Had another lovely Third Saturday with the ladies of our church.

This month’s theme was a Garden Party and Basil. We were all dressed up– hats too– and one of the older women led a small devotional based around the gardening and growing metaphors in the bible.

Alternating with her was our master-gardener/hostess, talking about the physicality and uses of the basil she’d collected (at least six different types).

These were passed around and I marveled at how they were each so unique (Yes, I know “So unique” is redundant, but like “Learning by osmosis,” incorrect has become better understood than the correct. *sigh*)

We each planted some basil to take home, than came back inside for salad (garnished with our choice of the basils) and two different basil pizzas. (Desert was melon chunks, and, in keeping with the theme, someone had put a branch of basil on the mound of fruit in the serving dish. That collected several laughs.)

The morning was good time of conversation and encouragement (Somebody actually called me “perfect” today. Poor dear. I think she was a little over-eager to soothe some assumed hurt. But it was nice to hear anyway ;-) )

I was away until nearly 1p.m., and came home wondering how much Jay would have been able to do with the kids.

Coming in to a peaceful living room and catching his eye before the children noticed I was home, I must have been too eager to shut the front door, because I didn’t realize my finger was still there.

Jay saw what happened and was by me in a moment, looking at the mangled skin. I have never been a screamer, so he asked me (while lifting my hand above my head), “Childbirth being ten, where is this on the scale?”

He was mostly serious, and I wanted to laugh, but I was too busy slowing my breathing and trying to look at the damage (skin torn, mostly, and bruising). “I’m feeling light-headed,” I said, feeling a bit surprised.

“Yeah,” said Jay, swallowing and trying to keep my hand out of both our sights. “Me too.”