My handicap tag quietly expired 9 days ago, marking six months since my knee replacement surgery. The last time I hung it on my rear-view mirror was a few weeks ago when I had to make a quick stop at a shop with no parking spaces open nearby except the handicap spot right out front. I tried to look a little crippled when I edged out of the driver’s seat in case anyone was looking, but I’m not handicapped that you could notice. Here is a six-month progress report. Continue reading
I have always been a morning person but recently it’s been taking me most of a morning to get fully charged.
I start with coffee but Vic complains that I’ve been drinking more than I used to, i.e. more than my share. Yet I still drink a bit less than he does. Why is this a problem? Can’t we just make more coffee? Well, the system we’ve adopted to make our artisan pour-over, deliciously strong coffee makes no more than 700 g of coffee at a time. (Yes, we weigh it.) If one of us needs more than our established share, we have to make another pot or partial pot. That’s too much bother first thing in the morning.
But coffee is just the start. I’ve been needing more than my established share just to do the next parts of my charging routine. Continue reading
I used to breeze by the exercise classes for seniors on my way to an intermediate yoga class or the swimming pool or the resistance trainers. Silver Sneakers, ha. I’d never be one of those oldsters doing their exercise sitting down, at least not for a long time.
This was not so long ago. Before the wrist pain made Downward Dog impossible and yoga less enjoyable. Continue reading
After my post about knee pain I got lots of sympathy and encouragement about eventually replacing these achy knees. Everybody knows somebody who has been through the serious surgical ordeal and most have come through it well. But I got a somewhat different story from an orthopedist. Continue reading
Two things have disappointed me greatly since our move into the Pink Lady: my left knee and my right knee.
With the move, I looked forward to walking everywhere. So much is within walking distance. Walking distance used to be easily three miles for me, each way. Three miles from the Pink Lady would take me to the Notre Dame campus and nearby shops and restaurants, a long trail along the St. Joe River, homes of all of my friends who live on the north side, and a number of parks, to say nothing of all the downtown shops and restaurants. Continue reading
Gap years are the thing. My great-nephew hasn’t figured out whether he wants to do political science or biology in college, though he knows which college he’ll attend and has already been accepted. So he’s taking a year to work and figure that out. It seems that for an 18-year-old he has figured out a lot already and a gap year is a sensible part of the plan. Continue reading
A few months ago my husband was diagnosed with a non-aggressive form of prostate cancer. The doctors assure him this “little bit of cancer” is nothing to worry about; it just needs to be monitored for now. “My advice to you,” his primary care physician told him, “is to forget you have cancer. Live your life. At this rate you won’t die from prostate cancer for at least 15 or 20 years and something else could get you first.” Continue reading
It is the first morning of Wood Thrush song, so loud and close I don’t recognize it at first. The flute-like whistles sound shrieky up close, but up close you can also hear the quiet churrs and burbles that follow the whistles. It is stunning. I sit on the porch and start to write but I can’t write while that is going on.
As I write that I can’t write, the song stops and then takes up again much farther off, as if the thrush is respecting my territory. Continue reading
In which I learn that change comes with two steps forward, one step back; that obstacles are often best overcome by going around, taking a different route, rather than plowing through; that the biggest obstacles are internal; and that the most limited commodity is willpower. Continue reading