I am happy to report that my progress is ongoing and rather seamless. There seems to be only one snag - all the abuse that was heaped on the other hip/knee/leg has made itself known. As one side strengthens, the other side goes south. At least I will know what to expect on the next bionic implant. Pfft.
|Slimmie is aces at ignoring winter.|
My attendance at PT sessions has been steady and, according to Ashlee, my 12 year old therapist, I am making great progress. Her preternatural perkiness and sweetness hides a will of steel. If I start to whine, she grips her clipboard, dimples and says, "let's just do eight more."
I have taken over all my outdoor chores - and I am certain I heard shouts of joy coming from the direction of my neighbor's house. The sheep looked at me suspiciously, the llama was happy to hear my voice (graham crackers) and I am starting to feel like normalcy is within reach. Whatever normal will be. Now, if the snow would just stop falling. Yesterday was my first full day - sheep feeding, chicken tending, post office visiting, and trash hauling. I was exhausted but happy.
|Lovey wouldn't mind an early spring.|
In a conversation with a friend about our retirements - she and I both retired last year - she, willingly, with lots of foresight and planning, while mine was foisted upon me, with lots of whining and fussing and little planning - we both agreed that, thanks to Covid, it was hard to distinguish between retirement and quarantine. Or, at least, it was hard to grasp that we are retired. I still have dreams about forgetting to clock out or in at work. I'm placing all my hope apples in the spring basket, so to say. I've gone through all my seeds and have started making lists. Lists always make me feel so organized and in charge. Ha.
|Peanut just wants to know |
if it's time for dinner. It's not.