Sweetpea’s favorite new snooze spot doubles as her favorite squirrel-spotting spot.
Three PT sessions per week with time to rest has been kicking my ass for about a month. Next week: back to work, less rest and down to two sessions per week, thus I am expecting an ass-kicking of comic proportions. I will make every effort to avoid drooling, but no promises.
This morning, I planted nine cartons of herb, spinach and lettuce seeds that will later fulfill their leafy destinies in the raised garden. Next: hanging planters and tomato anarchy.
Spring! It’s fucking spring!
A recent yarn donor asked me to make a lap blanket for the place where her mother is receiving cancer treatment. Of course, after all my panic and speaking in tongues, it turned out fine, if slightly smaller than expected, because knitting ain’t rocket surgery unless Georg is doing the ballistic stitchery.
Actual dimensions: 30″ x 44″
Today, I’m six weeks out from hip replacement surgery and I can’t say enough about HSS, which I know because they keep sending me surveys. Also: I’m up to 29 minutes on the stationary bike, which – survey says! – should be unpossible!
During today’s six week visit to the surgeon’s office, doc said I can begin lifting weights again. Neglected 10 lb. body bar says, “About frigging time.”
This morning, I walked to the nail salon, had a pedicure because I can’t touch my toes and someone has to, then walked home and passed out for an indecent interval. Spring is nearly upon us. Wake me when it arrives.
Poor Impulse Control 