I got a referral for physical therapy to work on my back and hip. The therapist I have seen (after the first visit, which was just so-so) has been fabulous. She seems to have correctly identified the muscle / tendon / tissue groups that need to be strengthened / loosened. The good news is that I am now motivated to do the exercises she gives me because I can see their logic. The bad news is that I have found that leg lifts make me sore exactly in the 30-year-old C-section area. Since it was probably the C-sections that caused the muscle weakness that caused the back problems that have plagued me for 30 years, that makes sense. Which doesn’t help the soreness, but does mean we are on the right track.
I bought a new batch of jigsaw puzzles for my iPad. Guess what they are of?
Even though my new-to-me vintage 2011 computer has enough memory to play iTunes while Chrome and maybe Word/Excel/Photo is/are open, I now don’t need it unless I want to rock out. We have a surplus of bookshelf stereos around here, some dating back to the early 70s, and I now have one of them in my office. It used to be in the kitchen, then was moved to live by the treadmill (but was NEVER even plugged in there), and now it resides on a shelf behind me. Best of all, it has a remote, so when I want to listen to something on YouTube (or in one of Kym’s posts) I don’t have to get up to turn it down. It is tuned to public radio 24/7, so there is always classical music playing.
Last spring I eagerly planted heirloom sweet peas in a half-barrel on my deck. When they were six inches tall I built a teepee from branches clipped in the woods for them to climb. And I waited for sweet-smelling blossoms. And waited. And waited. Finally, last week, one blossom opened. Tragically, it lacked the lovely scent that the seed packet had promised. Now, the fact that I didn’t manage to get those seeds into the dirt until June 1 may have had something to do with the stunning lack of blossoms all summer; May 1, maybe even April 15, would have been better. But the scent-less blossom? Phooey.
Did I ever tell you how we nearly burned the house down? Misha knocked over the halogen lamp next to my bed, and it landed on my down comforter. She had been tied to the bedpost while we went out to dinner (re-potty training after several accidents), I had neglected to turn off the lamp, and she knocked it over in her excitement when we came home. I smelled something burning as we came up the stairs; when we walked into the bedroom the comforter was smoldering and smoking. There is presently a six-inch charred hole in my comforter, waiting to be patched. If she had knocked the lamp over while we at dinner we would have lost the entire house, both dogs, and both cats. Needless to say, I never leave that lamp any more on if I am not right there.