The Thought of You ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l21H63Y-O1o
Although I don’t feel it… record high temps today!
So I’m pretending it’s cooler outside than it actually is…I made soup yesterday…I bought Iced Spiced Pumpkin Latte…and Im trying a new seasonal brew, Victory Festbier. It’s pretty tasty! 👍🏻
Weather guys say tomorrow starts those coveted cooler temps.
Alright then. I’ll camp out inside and wait.
Tomorrow will be two weeks since I went under the knife --
my total hip replacement.
And my amazing surgeon is this month's hero.
Maybe this year's ... the way this country is headed now...
Hip replacement? Me?
Yes, they said, showing me the X-rays.
My cartilage had deteriorated in two places, bone on bone, with spurs.
What the heck?
It happens to all ages, they say, as early as late 40's to 70s, 80s.
It's nothing I did wrong.
Disintegration happens.
My activity level BHS (before hip surgery) had slowly crumbled over the last two years.
I went from an active late 50s something, going to the gym 3-4 times a week
to going not at all;
from brisk walking once or twice a week
to walking once a week - if I was lucky - for 10-15 mins,
and in Tim-Conway-Oldest-Man mode.
Remember Tim Conway, Oldest Man skits?
That was me.
Then. BHS.
(thank God I was under anesthesia -- no feel, no see, no hear)
walking very carefully at first with a walker,
then a cane,
to "Look at me! No hands!"
I'm now walking pretty much unassisted, normal gait -- not brisk, but not TCOM mode.
In fact, I have to walk twice a day for 20-30 mins a day
as part of my ongoing recovery and PT.
I'm encouraged jacked!
The pain has been quite tolerable, the incision pain being the worst of it,
and that has been only the last few days, as the nerve endings surrounding the incision
begin to wake up, reconnect, and heal.
I still cannot tie my shoes or put on my socks or paint my toenails
or anything else with my left foot.
That will come, they tell me. Be patient.
I am patient. Sort of.
Well, okay. Not really.
But I suck it up and follow orders. Because that's something I DO do well.
I follow orders.
How do I get from A to Z in the most efficient manner?
Maximize and optimize all experiences.
Give it 100%.
That I can do.
Oh, but I feel so lazy at times, this recovery phase.
I wake up, eat a light breakfast, skim social media,
skim Real News headlines,
read my Kindle book(s),
and once every hour I get up and walk and stretch for a few minutes.
Wash, rinse repeat.
I'm down from two naps a day to one.
If it weren't for the required walking outside,
I'd be much further along on my way to
feeling like a blob of Play-Dough.
Good things come to those who wait...
and follow orders.
After my two-week follow-up visit tomorrow, I anticipate that my surgeon will give me the blessing
to spend the rest of my four weeks of recovery
at our lake house
(promising him I'd get out and stretch every hour on the drive there)
as opposed to being cooped up in our tiny, third-floor apartment.
(I was wondering how in the world I'd manage those stairs up to our apartment after surgery)
Sure enough, they had me doing stairs HOURS after surgery, just before discharge.
No slacking allowed, they said.
I miss my lake house.
My sanctuary. My happy place.
And Benaiah.
New Year's Eve was spent with dear friends of 30+ years in a dimly lit, local fine dining spot. A quiet gathering, lacking the characteristic gaiety of New Year's Eve gatherings. But 2020 was not your typical year, so it should rightfully end without fanfare and crowning glory. Wrap it up -- no, wad it up -- tightly, and throw it in the garbage can.
Beginning with the birth of our very first grandchild -- a sweet baby boy, born on January 4, three days later than his parents were expecting him, but exactly when God had planned. He is a miniature cherub. Truly, the sweetest angel baby face I've ever seen.
I flew to see him a week after he was born, spending 4 short days with him, holding him, singing to him, rocking him, kissing him, talking to him -- it was almost impossible to steal my eyes away from that precious face.
And oh, does he rock his hats! He has lots of beanies and little knitted pom-pom hats, my favorite being this one... HOW HIS NONNA WANTS TO KISS THOSE SWEET CHEEKS AGAIN!
I sobbed when I kissed his sweet face at the airport. And every time I turn on the classical relaxation Pandora station now, I'm taken back to those precious but few moments with him, and tears begin to fall. A love so fierce, so indescribable. When will I see you again, little one?
Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me
Reflecting on blessings ... SO.MANY.BLESSINGS ... I never want to take for granted the many blessings that God has given us.
This time of year will always be my MOST favorite time of the year. The color, the smells, the weather, the festive and celebratory energy of the season, it leaves me reeling in rhapsody!
We've finally gotten around to putting our plans together for our lake house remodel, and it's beginning to take shape. They laid our new wood floors last week -- I won't be able to see them till next weekend, the start of Thanksgiving week, as I'm working in WV this week and next. But a sneak peak of their rich loveliness, the view from our sunroom.... and a few more pictures taken of the season's glory.
In this never-ending lull of nothingness, boredom, restlessness, concern for the future all brought on by this 
In later years, I've become -- well, less patient. I'm pretty sure it's a vitamn D thing. The older I get the more I need. My deficit accumulates, and I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of suffocation. Immobile. Fuzzy-brained. Apathy and indifference to things that normally captivate me.
So in the freelance world of court reporting, we transcribe everything we write, unlike being an official in the courtroom, where only appealed cases are transcribed for the most part. Transcribing every single word of every job shapes one into a better reporter for so many reasons. We see steno that we need to write shorter (for speed) or a different way (for speed and accuracy). So every day becomes a game, sort of. What will my accuracy rate be today? How many steno strokes will be perectly written? More today than yesterday...than last week...than last month. And on it goes. And part of that insanity involves daily practice, over and above what we do on the job. So we commit (those who strive for excellence) to practice every single day, no exceptions, even when we're sick, or have company, or plans, whatever, we fit it in somehow. That accountability is the ticket. As a result, our writing gets better and better with each passing day. We compete against ourselves. And this is incredibly addictive, as boring as it sounds.
It will take me the rest of my life
