Limping and Blinking

There I was, on my way to bash that pickleball, when my sneaker hit the ground at an angle, my ankle did an unpleasant turn, and my knee was suddenly unhappy.

          And here I had just been thinking how great my knees had been feeling since I’d bought new sneakers. I played a bit more, and then had to call for a sub to jump into the game for me. Fortunately, I do enjoy just watching, and I got in some good chat time on the bench with the rest of the gang who were waiting for their turn to play.

          With two retired physical therapists and any number of retired nurses in our group, I received plenty of advice; one PT even manipulated my knee a bit. So, the rest of the day and on Saturday it was ibuprofen, rest, and ice. I even felt well enough to take a slooow walk around the complex. Sunday I hiked around the grocery store, and Monday I strapped in my over-the-counter knee brace and played.

 Yeah – not a great idea. I guess quiet walks and the movements on the court are two different things.

And of course, because I had a brunch to go to on Monday, I woke up on Saturday with an itchy, swollen eyelid. My family being of the don’t-worry-until-the-bone-is-actually-sticking-out school of treatment, I figured it would go away.

Nope. Since that brunch involved me bringing food, I figured I wouldn’t be super welcome arriving with conjunctivitis. So off to the urgent care people Sunday morning. No, it wasn’t pinkeye, it was probably a stye, but an antibiotic treatment was prescribed anyway.

Still, Monday morning I did try calming it down with a little ice, and when I arrived no one gasped and told me to leave, so I guess my secret was safe.

                                                                     

For Peg

   What with food prices on their alpine climb, I’m determined to eat down whatever we already have before the next trip. I’m one of the probably select few who doesn’t mind a trip to the grocery store, it combining two of my favorite things – shopping and food.

Clear-conscience shopping

          For the rest of the year, I live in a small town in Massachusetts that while lovely, isn’t close to much of anything. We have a couple of nearby good restaurants, but eating out usually means a drive of 45 minutes or an hour.

First came the goats . . .

 

I’d played pickleball for two hours in the morning, but then spent the afternoon just sitting, so it was time for a walk around the complex.

Mystery solved

 

Yesterday meandered by – up later than my usual leap-out-of-bed-at-7:00 to rush off and play pickleball. This meant comfy time on the couch with my cup of tea and latest mystery. Then a walk of two times around the complex, more reading, then to the pool to lounge and chat with people. Hedonist heaven.

          Like other days, when I didn’t actually have a book in my hand, I had one in my head. I truly love my airpods. I can listen while I’m changing beds, walking, making dinner, or for more of a challenge, while I’m also completing a crossword puzzle. I use them so much, and they and their case are so small, that I’m careful, careful about where I leave them.

          So, I came home from the pool, fiddled around with a few things, and then fixed dinner (Roasted shrimp & asparagus, caprese salad, box noodle mix), all while still listening to my book.

          When dinner was ready, I unplugged my head and then couldn’t find the case to put the airpods away. After dinner the search began in earnest: countertops, bedroom dresser top, beach bag, purse, bathroom counter. Twice. Then under chairs, bed, dresser; inside underwear drawer, kitchen junk drawer, office junk drawer, box where I throw my sunglasses after walking. Repeat. Nothing.

Homeless

          I finally ended up ordering a replacement case, knowing in my heart that that would ensure that the original case would magically appear. Except it didn’t last night.

          Today I poked around in the freezer, wondering what to make for dinner. Wasn’t there a chicken recipe I wanted to try? How many cans of tomatoes did it call for?

          Off to the office to pull out my big loose-leaf binder of clipped recipes.

          When I opened it – you guessed it – out fell the missing case.

The Loaner

 

My Guy needed my car for a lone day trip, since we thought it would be nice if he actually got to where he was going. His car, which we leave here in Florida, used to be my car.

Four out of four

 

If only I could say that the reason for this latest surge of images on the blog is that I’ve used up all my words through my writing.

While I did make some inroads on book 5 yesterday (finally!), accomplishing a couple of scenes and giving some thought to tying various characters into the happenings,

for the past several weeks I’ve been incredibly lazy. Fortunately, I’ve found one way to outwit myself: Get so far into the book that I can’t possibly walk away, leaving it unfinished and abandoning all that work I’d put into it.

          But never mind all that – in lieu of some deep thoughts on my part, here’s what My Guy entered into the latest modeling society competition. (A reader had expressed interest and requested more of these the last time I posted one of his entries, so here ya go.) 

       

 Usually not much taller than 4 or 5 inches, these are what is known in that world as “flats.” 

He buys the sculpted figure and then paints it, sometimes creating a backdrop for it. I think it was the backdrops that brought him into his other love - painting on canvas. 

This one of Robin Hood earned him a silver.

He won a bronze with the milkmaid:

This one earned him a silver:

And this brought home the gold: