So, the e-mail/picture situation never sorted itself out and, frankly, I find myself channeling Lt. Col. Nathan Jessup when I say, "I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!" I'm kidding, of course. I love my readers. Both of you.
But the truth is, I'm sufficiently fried and I'm pretty sure Kate is getting beat up by both Emily and Paige right now while I sit in the coffee shop downstairs with the free wi-fi. So you'll pardon the tone and lack of originality.
What can I say? Emily Conquest Tredwell is a champ. Tougher than everyone you know. We finally got the band back together about 4:00 and, when we first saw her, she was talking away like she hadn't just been unconscious for several hours while stainless steel pins were drilled into her leg. She is now in her room, demanding gatorade, movies and giggling every time she presses the button for more pain meds.
Everyone's exhausted and certainly thankful to have cleared this hurdle. Unfortunately, this was the easy part. NOW we get to start four months of daily PT. And, yes, it will suck.
Keep those positive vibes coming. I'll keep you posted as best I can. And someday...pictures. Promise.