Ten-Finger Exercises

WInding down, or is it up?

Last spring, before or maybe just about the time Bill retired, my life was feeling pleasantly full. Not overly busy, as some retirees claim --or is it bragging?--but enough regular events on my weekly calendar that I usually knew what day it was and had something coming up to look forward to.
I did grouch about needing to drive to the next town six days a week and occasionally more than once a day. And I wanted something bigger to anticipate, like a cruise planned or a trip to Ireland or something. But I was doing pretty much just what I wanted.

Three days a week I went to the Y for water aerobics, MWF. On Tuesdays I had a staff mtg at church. On Thursdays I helped sometimes with the soup kitchen and had watercolor class in the afternoon. I usually took communion out to a lady on Friday, and Sunday was church. In between, I had time to write poetry, practice painting, work in the garden.

When Bill started being at home every day, I cut out the Y frequently because we slept later, and I figured I'd have our own pool to do that in as soon as the water warmed up. The art class stopped for the summer, and I've only gotten out my paints a few times since then. I did write a bit, when I could find some quiet time to myself, and worked in the garden where I'd never be interrupted. (Funny about that, isn't it?)

I began to plan possible trips for us, but Bill's budget for retirement took a while to get in place and he had a lot of obligations with CAP and the ambulance board that he chairs. Besides, I wanted to do exactly what I was doing. I wanted a week with the twins visiting and a few days with BIll's sister in Seattle when we went over for his year followup to prostate treatment. I wanted a few days with my son and his family in the Portland area, and we did that too. I wanted Bill to get his flight medical back so we could go flying again, and it happened!

I've made zucchini bread and homemade salsa, marinara sauce to freeze. I've figured out a better way to garden next year, God willing.I've had some poetry accepted at an on-line site featuring poets from the inland northwest (as opposed to the Seattle and Portland areas.) I made a skirt and scarf for my granddaughter while she was here without even using a pattern. I'm not a very accomplished sewer, so that was a big deal for me, and she liked it well enough to wear it on the first day of school. She's in 7th grade this year.

The one thing that has made me sad is that our poet/workshop leader is leaving town. She was a great help, an encouragement and also a good critic with useful suggestions.

Now it's almost time to start the art class up again--two more weeks. I'm not very good at it, not enough to please myself even, but plan to do it again anyway. As for the poetry group, I don't know if I will continue with it or not. I don't trust the expertise of the members to give constructive help, and I don't want to hear a lot of vacuous praise. Snob, aren't I?

The one other bad thing is that my left knee, which I've been protecting for years, barely made it though the Portland trip with a jet boat ride and a day at the state fair. It had been hurting anyway, and I'd claimed plenty of rest time for it. Shortly after we got home, I could hardly bend it. Getting in and out of the car and the little airplane had been tricky, but it became next to impossible.

I couldn't get in to an orthopedist with first seeing my own doctor, and couldn't get in to see him for two weeks. His nurse advised me to go to the immediate care clinic and get the referral from there. That doc gave me an 8-day course of Prednisone as I wait to see the knee doctor on Thursday, and it's done wonders. Flew with Bill to Spokane Saturday and went shopping with Lenore. Today we spent several hours in the church kitchen getting soup started for the new Tuesday soup kitchen we'll be hosting. We'll be busy with that all day tomorrow. I did miss out on the poetry workshop today though, and an email this evening from the teacher announces that that will be her last workshop with us. I'm really sorry about that.

One funny thing happened in Spokane while I was in Costco with Lenore. We were emptying the cart as the old gray-haired gentleman checked us out, and we heard him muttering to himself in a sing-song way that sounded a little odd. We looked at each other, and then suddenly realized what the words were that we had been hearing him say: "Once upon a midnight dreary as I pondered weak and weary over many a volume of forgotten lore..." We finished it with him, to all our enjoyment, and Lenore said that was her favorite pickup line.