Lots and lots of happy typing at work, stuff flying off my To-Do list into his outbox, through the postage meter, and out the door. Today my other attorney, the one for whom I transcribe, is taking his legal secretary, his paralegal, and me out to lunch. I am not sure where we are walking, but we will have lovely weather for it.
Early on in the Book of Mormon, the prophet Lehi is speaking to his young son, Jacob, explaining that there is a good reason for opposition in all things, and that it is part of the plan for our happiness. Taking it down to a personal level, if I had not sweated and slogged through the summer [now hopefully] just past, I would be nowhere near as appreciative of this cool front as I am, or should be.
Not a lot of knitting yesterday. A little before work. A little more at lunch. After work there was the mad scramble to drive from BigD to far west Fort Worth for my massage. After that, my body wanted protein, specifically fish, specifically the grilled salmon at Black Eyed Pea. And then I came home and answered a few emails and went to bed.
I slept fairly well and woke up about 4:30. So, somewhere around six and a half hours of sleep, and my ankles look good this morning, and nothing obviously aches. Which is amazing after the massage session. Two weeks is too long for me to go between massages, at least for now. I have another one scheduled for Friday week, which puts it at ten days and is just about right.
I asked if she thought we could get the whatever-it-is straightened out, that I did to my right knee on that long, long car trip twenty years ago when Dad died, that makes it exquisitely painful to drive for much more than an hour at a time. (I can take far longer car rides as a passenger.) She said yes, but we have a lot to do before that happens.
Well, I probably have another 40 years in which to do so, and if not, the resurrection will take care of it once and for all.
In other good news, I am breathing almost freely. I barely coughed yesterday. I had one coughing spell a little earlier this morning [and it was rather noisily impressive (think 1812 Overture), but my eyes are still in their sockets, and my pancreas did not come flying out of an ear].
I think this calls for some celebratory knitting.
- Four 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!