|Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
Ack! I've resorted to posting on my own blog as a way to avoid the $$Paperwork$$. Can't find 3 month's bank statements! EEEK!
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Saturday, January 21, 2006 I think, if I weren’t in love already, I’d fall in love with the physical therapist. It is the most amazing thing to be touched by someone whose skilled hands understand anatomy. This particular therapist is a very understanding sort and lets me babble on like a mountain stream, about me me me me and me and my neck and my arm and my head and the spot where they all join and the tingling and that floppy feeling I have that I’m about to fall all the time, not because my head is swimming but because all the muscles that are supposed to hold me together have turned into cotton string.
And then he nods and says, “right.” And then presses his thumbs against the vertebrae between my shoulder blades and things go pffff. And then my arm stops tingling. My goodness. What a miracle.
He also gave me some anti-floppy exercises, strict orders to stay off any gym machines and to go into the pool only for water aerobics and only if I promise to not lift my arms above my head.
So I am full of confidence and also glad I can get back to the gym. Not just because I like going there, but also because the county pays half my membership fee if I go 8 times a month. It comes out of my paycheck and if I don’t meet the requirement they take the entire monthly fee out. It’s only about $26 but my goodness, it’s the $26 I resent spending the most. This is usually because I just was too lazy to make my twice weekly visits. There is an arrangement whereby the monthly fee can be excused, but you have to set it up fairly early in the month or have doctor’s orders. But - in that case, you can’t go that month at all. And I never think I’ll be sick enough or gone long enough to want to forfeit access for a whole month. Besides - I really want that $26.
Especially today - when, after a reiki session from a very dear friend who’s working on her level 3, I plan to attack the $$Paperwork$$. And have TheTalk with BD. And get a handle on our $pending. And be a Betterrrrrrrr Person. Or at least, a person who knows how much of her paycheck goes to Walmart each month.
And spin a tad. Maybe.
I will gladly report back about The New World on Monday. The local paper trashes it, but most Virginian’s get pretty huffy with the Pocahontas story anyway. “Don’t they even know she married John Rolfe?!?!!!!” That’s the muttered refrain you’ll hear on the sidewalks of Richmond, Norfolk, Bedford, Charlottesville, Wytheville, and Warrenton. Even Yankee come-heres pick up that particular allergic reaction to the entertainment world. Mostly that’s onnacounta they didn’t learn anything about Virginia in school and think the first Englishmen were pilgrims in Massachusetts - like everybody else in America. They like to show off that they know this little secret historical tidbit, that Pocahontas didn’t marry John Smith, when they talk to their Yankee kith and kin. It’s always fun to deconstruct history. It makes people feel so smart.
So - I’m ready to ... well, I’m ready to see the beautiful Chicahomony River on wide screen. posted by Bess | 7:55 AM