Just A Twitch

My left foot is twitching as I write this, probably in anticipation that tomorrow morning starts my physical therapy.

Gee, it brings back a ton of memories, going to physical therapy.Yes, I was one of “those” children, that is, I put my hand through a washing machine wringer**ask your parents or older siblings what they were if you have no clue what I am talking about** among other things.I have gone through ice and heat and ultrasound and back again.Tomorrow brings no really surprise for me, in regard to what is in store for me.

It’s another chance to appreciate 30 years of health care that I worked to earn with my union, to heal this old body of mine.

Maybe the twitch will go away.

Living out of a suitcase…sort of

Our home of twelve years was sold last June.

I’m not due to retire until this coming January, God willing.

I’m living at my late parent’s house. it is truly transitional housing.

What does this spell?

My handbag is my life.

Women accessorize.It’s a given. Fashion’s fifth avenue has more than enough magazines where you can blink and you still won’t miss the newest handbags on the editorial fashion pages, if not the ads.We are taught that it is an extension of ourselves. Sure it is, until we have our first chiropractic visit or physical therapy trying to regain a normal state in our shoulders, arms or back.Yes, you, reading this rubbing your sore shoulder. You know what I am talking about.

Most working women have their lives, to some degree in a handbag.After all, we carry them, we keep our transit fares in them, our building passes in them, house keys in them, make-up in them, cell phone, e-reader, and so on, and so on…you catch my drift?

Well, being between two houses, I am in a constant state of,” Oh, I might need this:I’ll put it in my bag.” That’s starts one thing, and as Jim likes to call it, you end up having an avalanche effect.For example, as soon as I post this blog, I have to figure out to get a few pounds off the handbag.**chuckling**I know many women, myself included, who could clean out their handbag twice weekly and still wake up in the morning wondering what gremlin got in and throws even more stuff in our handbags.

I thought I was saying something when I went to a Vera Bradley bag, thinking cloth has to be lighter than leather.Yeah, right.The material doesn’t matter,when you put your belongings into it.

I am going to post this, and then,well, my handbag is not the fabric of the picture below but it is of this style, which of course, is so serviceable that Vera Bradley discontinued it!**sigh**
I will go and try to lighten the load.Of course, it goes without saying that I look forward to the time I’ll be living in our new home and won’t need my “stuff’ clogging up my handbag.

Feel free to share your handbag stories with me. I’m all ears.

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When the cat’s away…

Our instructor for our Flip Fitness class is on vacation for two weeks.

Whoo-hoo…well, because she gets to have vacation, naturally.

We had Jessica as our instructor tonight and it really was funny. Our instructor Jackie is infamous for not liking odd numbers of repetition for exercises. She tens to make us do ten and then tries to slip more in, We imagined her at her shore hang out, and we joked that we were sending vibes down to her every time we changed the count amount.**Don’t tell her, but we did actually do ten most of the time, but she doesn’t have to know that**.

The problem was we were tweaking some different varieties of exercises so, for example, the position might have been different but you had the same, if not better end result. Well, I was kind of getting into it, and hope I won’t be too sore when I have physical therapy tomorrow.

**fingers crossed**

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PT tying me up in knots

I had physical therapy again today and it is getting rough.

Evidently,there’s a point of strengthening your muscle and then we are to the point where we have been working this week-control of my hip muscles.

Ouch.

The key, and probably starting exercise reminds you either of driving school or a DUI maize.There is a line of small neon orange cones, and all ten are laid out in a straight line.Evidently either my hip is so week or balance so bad that I actually have a cane in my hand while I am doing this because when I didn’t, I almost fell. The idea is to raise your leg over the cone and basically with the cone spacing out between both feet, you slowly are putting one foot directly in front of the other.Sara, my therapist, laughed,as said I didn’t leave the line too inebriated.***translation -only a few cones were out of line***.

What is going to make things rougher is that I am scheduled for surgery on August 15th and as of tomorrow, I can no longer use my post-therapy partner for cure all liquid Aleve. I have to go to Tramadol or extra strength Tylenol.

This getting older business is definitely not for sissies.

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Daily Public Transit-The Good,The Bad, The Ugly

I am climbing on my soapbox again to talk about my daily commute.

Back in my prior life, when we lived two blocks away from the train station, life was sunny. A nice morning train, a brisk walk to work;in short, no worries.

Then our house sold and we moved two miles further from the train.There lies the rub: the bus.

I honestly hate the commute. In order to get into the city I take the bus onto an expressway, where I lose forty-five minutes to an hour one way.It irks me because it is time I’ll never get back again in my life.Traffic usually sucks.If you aren’t entertained by someones’ blow by blow description of how their life is going, how their **fill in the blank here: sex life, date life,third marriage is going, well,I know, I know, read or something** Well, there’s only so much to read or listen to. I refuse to be chained to Verizon and use my hot spot to be on-line. Then, when the bus reaches center city, I get off the bus and wait for a second bus.

Did I mention I hate personal trivial conversations on a cell phone on public transportation?
**Sigh**

Fortunately, I hope to God I get through this last stretch before I retire taking public transit. Pretty sad when I get to “treat” myself, thanks to my Flip Fitness class and physical therapy,and walk to the train station to get on a train that spares me the expressway.The indignity is I have to get OFF the train to get back on a bus to get home.

I won’t miss this at all.

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Keeping moving

Between physical therapy and my flip fitness class and getting to and from work, plus walking the girls, I try to keep moving.

Jim added a wee bit to that today.

He cleared out the cottage that we lived in every weekend for five months and actually set up my recumbent bicycle for me. I have been warming up in therapy on it for ten minutes before going on to my exercises so I actually used mine today.In therapy it is on slight tension, and I replicated it here, so hopefully I won’t be too sore tomorrow.

It feels good to have done the ten minutes today, and just as a thumb to nose gesture to myself,I did an extra thirty seconds, well, just because. Hopefully this is a step in reclaiming a home life that isn’t quite so depressing, a home life that will put us back in lockstep with the life we had at our old house that was pretty damn good.

**fingers crossed**

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Blech, blech..complaining again.

In the office today getting ready to see the physical therapist again.

With my leg. The leg that wasn’t hurting me until this past Monday, AFTER I finished physical therapy.

I went to my flip fitness class last night and what a difference when you gently do something and when you did 10-20 repetitions of something that wasn’t that strong to begin with. I am hobbling around and am getting bummed out.I am walking like I need a knee replacement…oh yeah, I had two already.

I can understand the premise behind physical therapy and have benefited from it in the past. After the initial go round this time though, I can only wonder.

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