Six weeks ago, we went on a camping trip where I re-sprained the ankle I injured in the spring. I wasn’t doing anything exciting, just taking a step down on a hike. It caught me off guard. There I lay on the ground writhing in pain with my family, equally surprised, staring at me. The injury sent me down a 4-6 week path of limited exercise. I spent two weeks in a boot and two weeks in an intense brace. It wasn’t my favorite, but it also wasn’t that terrible. I got creative with my workouts and stayed pretty active and so far am on a great path to recovery. Probably not coincidentally, that time period also coincided with a bout of introversion. Maybe it’s because I’m an ambivert, but I don’t have a problem allowing myself a social break once in awhile. (Especially when it’s the social media variety.) I kept busy in other ways, reading four books (which post-children is a lot for me), shuttling my kids to various extracurriculars, and enjoying small moments with small groups of people. It’s been mostly nice and I only entertained thoughts of moving to the desert and cutting off contact with the outside world a few times. Today, it’s snowy and awful out and for some reason, that makes me feel like picking up here again. Or at least dumping a bunch of photos from the last six weeks anyway.