That's all I seem to be doing these days. Sit up in bed until my tush goes to sleep. Lie on one side until my hand goes to sleep. Sit out here in the dining room on a hard chair until my legs go to sleep.
Today is my sixth wedding anniversary. It's been a lovely, calm day, dampened only by the fact that I kept my germs at home instead of going to church. Two of my kids have posted photo memories on Facebook.
I've knitted, colored, listened to classical music, taken a long nap, and figured out things to eat that won't make me cough. There really has been minimal coughing today, and very little drainage. While I'm still not fully recovered from this flu, I feel infinitely better than I did a week ago today, when I dragged myself to the after-hours clinic and came home with an Rx for Tamiflu.
I just want to be well and stay that way for a good long while, if that's Heaven's plan for my growth. My parents have been popping up in my dreams with increasing frequency. They're typically reproving me when they do. And they weren't picky-picky people in mortality. Maybe the next time I'll have sufficient presence of mind to ask if this is a big hint from the Universe or if they're just there to remind me that I need to do more family history research.
Willing to do that, absolutely. (The latter, not the former.) I need to be able to sit with my legs and feet down long enough to make it happen.
- Six 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!