I have lost maybe half a pound this month, since I resumed exercising. That’s OK; muscle weighs more than fat. And my goal isn’t to be svelte. It’s to increase my range of motion and my stamina. Any measurable weight loss is just lox on the bagel [since I’m not crazy about maraschino cherries, and I’m the one who gets to choose the similes around here].
When I first came to work in my office, I parked a good distance away from the elevator in the parking garage and took the stairs up. After I started my skincare business and had masses of product to lug upstairs for women in the building, I started using the elevator. And after I phased out that side business and took up knitting, I continued using the elevator, because I was usually carrying my big red tote, my knitting bag, and either a basket with my lunch in it, or a plastic bag from the grocery store that served the same function. Something like 40 pounds of stuff, all told.
When I learned last year that I had been walking around on a broken leg for two months, I started parking closer to the elevator. [We are too soon old, too late schmart.]* Now I’m beginning to develop a new routine. On the days that I will be going to the Natatorium right after work, I park close in. I have one hour exactly from when I shut down my switchboard to when I need to be in the water. Every minute helps.
On the days [I was going to say “that I have no class”, but that’s not exactly the image I wanted to convey] that my evenings are free, I’ve taken to parking about halfway between the elevator and the farthest reaches of the parking garage. My legs get a little extra stretch; I doubt that it will add up to more than a mile or so by the end of the year, but it’s a dozen or two more steps in the right direction.
*A digression. I googled that phrase to see if it was attributable to one specific author. I saw it on a pseudo-German sign in a gift shop some time back. There was a related link to this book. And the second review [the one by Eugene A. Jewett] contained this phrase in its synopsis of Chapter 5: “Any relationship … is controlled by the one who loves least”. Can I get an Amen? I think of that in terms of my first marriage, where I was the one who loved the least, and in terms of my second, when it proved to be the other way around.
So what’s the antidote? Brother Ray Charles would say it was “One Drop of Love”. I can’t believe there’s no YouTube for this song. If you can get hold of his My World CD, it’s on that, right after “Let Me Take Over” [which is my favorite song for East Coast Swing].
And now for some small people with big changes. BittyBubba is sitting up:
He looks so much like his mama did at this age. And here are the two Bitties, together:
Both photos by Secondborn, and used by permission. She says that she just knows that once he figures out how to crawl, her life is going to get very, very busy. Can you believe that he is six months old today?
I am easing my way up the calf on Firestarter. I think I’m going to like the designer’s transition from heel flap to full-blown ribbing.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!