Promises, promises, promises…..I make them to myself frequently and then fail to follow them. One of those promises has been to keep up on my blogs. Yeah, I haven’t been very good at that one, have I? It’s not that I have giving up writing; I do that every day while working on my first book. I am also big on posting my strangely perverted, happy thoughts on Facebook, so if you are “friends” with me you aren’t missing out on much. If you want to be my little friend, you can find me at my Happy Blonde Facebook page.
Life in Happy Blonde land has included a lot of snow lately; in fact we received about 13 inches with the last storm. That equals about 1.6 inches of rainfall according to the Snowfall to Rainfall Calculator or basically not crap considering the drought we’ve been going through. See this picture? This is our neighbor’s pond last spring. It is now completely empty. Who knows, maybe with 13 inches of snow it might pass as a cup of fish soup now.
Anyhow, I am going to try and keep up my goal to blog more instead of just writing. It’s good outlet that I should utilize more, maybe I’ll be less crazy.
Sometimes a smile and a laugh can take away a lot of pain. My daughter Amber gave me one of those moments this morning and it was really needed. Yesterday was my first visit to therapy for a consult. I was under the impression that following therapy would be basic Tai Chi in a nice, warm pool. Of course, this wasn’t the case. It’s never the case when it comes to me. If the weatherman said there was a one percent chance of rain, then raindrops would land on my head.
The day before my visit, I made sure to take a long bath and shave parts that haven’t seen a razor in quite a while. I even used the scraper on my feet and painted my toenails. Didn’t want to wear a swimming suit and frighten the therapist. I’m sure they have seen worse, but I do have some pride left. After going over paperwork with the front office, I was slowly whisked away by my therapist Susan. She was a very nice lady and explained that they treat a lot of patients with fibromyalgia, so I was in good hands.
Then the torture started. Susan needed to have me move in every direction possible to determine my range of motion and the level of pain. This only lasted for a little while, but seemed to go on forever. I can’t blame her for the pain, she was only doing her job, but oh my! I’m not doing that again for a while. Susan was very sweet when she was done putting me through agony, she brought me heat packs to lie on. Those packs almost made up for the misery.
This morning was like another round of torture thanks to therapy. Every muscle throbbed with pain. Now, mornings are tough for me anyhow and it takes a while for me to get going. This morning was unbelievable though. It took me three hours to get moving. I woke up at seven, took 800 mg of ibuprofen, then went back to bed, and just snuggled with my dog Foofers. He is old, so hopefully through his doggy dementia he had a little bit of empathy for my struggle. Probably not though, because he was busy snoring until I finally crawled out of bed at ten.
Amber called not long after and that I told her it took me three hours to get out of bed. She made some weird noise, huffed, and informed me I better get my butt to the emergency room. It seems she had the impression of me trying to sit up for three hours. That was definitely the laugh and smile that I needed to get my day going.
I have been told on more than one occasion that my life should be a sitcom. I have always wanted to write a book to test this fact, but never get farther than a couple of chapters. I know that I have way more humorous stories in me than a lousy two chapters. So maybe a blog is the way to go. So many interesting and unbelievable things have happened over the years that I need to get them out somewhere. This lets you, the reader, decide if my life is sitcom worthy or not.