Why I Love Life: Reason #1

If you know me at all from reading this blog, it won't surprise you to hear that I ride the bus like I'm running for Mayor.

I like to know the names, the faces and the stories of my fellow ART 42 bus riders.

And even if you insist on thinking my name is Sandy, I'm still happy to be greeted by a big "Hello Sandy" and have a seat saved for me.

If your younger sister just married your father's best friend, and you refer to him as the pedophile, I wanna know.

If your brother died last weekend and you feel inclined to give me all the details of the upcoming funeral, you have my complete attention and sympathy.

And if you're another blogger, I'm thrilled beyond belief. Another blogger on my bus!

And then if you go to work, read this blog, and send me a lovely email, entitled Blog Appreciation, and say I've inspired you to start writing again and to smile and appreciate life a little more....well you have made my day. Maybe my week.

Now we just have to get Lora to join in Flowers In The House come September, then she can meet all of you too.

It's a small world after all.

Move Like Jagger

Dear God, I didn't intend my brief lament to turn into the long goodbye.

But I hadn't realized how sad I truly was and I guess I took the week to process my feelings. Like that's ever fun....

But I'm back and almost raring to go.

I just did a half hour of PT stretching, then some yoga and crunches.

It's always amazing to me how much better I feel, inside and out, after some exercise.

It's like gardening or reading. There's a 100% guarantee I'll totally tune out that annoying voice in my head and just focus on what is in front of me.

I also had a brisk uphill walk after a fast shopping trip. I went for underwear and came back with two pair of workout pants, a  pair of jeans and khakis, the NYT times and an iced latte.

I am a good hunter and gatherer. Though I wished I had bought an extra hand to hold my umbrella because it rained on me all the way home.

There's an article in the Times Style section today on how walking is becoming a hot new thing in LA.

According to an Australian study each additional hour of TV a person sits and watches increases her chance of dying by 11%. What?

The "prescription" is to start and keep moving. They're calling it "walk therapy".

And if I sound like I'm gently making fun of this of course I am. After all it's Hollywood.

But do I believe in the healing powers of getting our muscles moving and blood pumping?

Absolutely.

And how did I work my way out of my doldrums this week?

Walking and exercising.

I rest my case.

But not my body.

All this exercise and talking about it has given me an appetite. I strongly feel mahi- mahi and mango salsa are in my future.

Gotta run.

xo Jane

A Brief Lament

I just realized I have 12 days until I go on vacation.

I leave August 24th to go to the Cape and stay with my friend Susan. 

Susan with the beautiful house, the most comfortable guestroom bed, so comfortable I have been known to sleep till 9:00am, the 3 little dogs, one of whom I am madly in love with, the big sunny kitchen from which she produces delicious meals and an airplane or two in her hangar.

What's in your hangar?

Then I have a few surprises up my sleeve.

They might include Boston and New York.

More will be revealed.

I'm a combination of excited and sad.

Excited to go and spend some time with friends.

Sad because this is the first time I've vacationed without GG since 2005.

We've been to so many beaches, from Massachusetts to California. I loved our road trips with lots of lattes, containers full of cherries and bags of nuts to snack on,  GG behind the wheel, the Lab in the back seat ready for adventure and me in charge of the music.

Those days are done and I feel their loss.


There I said it.

Better out than in.

So a quick count my blessing time: a fabulous roommate who will take care of the cats and house, a wonderful friend, Margo, with whom I'l be roadtripping up to Falmouth, laughing and talk, talk, talking all the way, lobster rolls to eat, books to read, beaches to loll on, shells to find and long deep sleeps.

Better now?

 Better.

Sunday Sweet Sunday

Possibly my favorite text to receive on a Saturday night:"Do you want to go to the gym in the morning?".

"Yes", is always my response especially when the farmers market is mentioned as a follow up.

Yes and yes again.

Then come home and fix brunch for Mr. Baby and his mother?

What a perfect Sunday morning.

By noon all is quiet. Gym friends out and about their own lives. Mr. Baby taken home for his nap.

The pineapple sage sits patiently waiting to be planted.

The eggplant and zucchini are waiting their starring roles in ratatouille. 

NPR plays softly in the kitchen and there is a big bowl of ice cold cherries in the fridge.

There is much I can do.

But Gus and Lucy seem to have a better idea how to spend a Sunday afternoon.

I think I might just join them.

 Thank you all for your responses to my last post. If you knew how shy I was about writing and posting it, then you would know how touched I was by your stories and support.

Who would be interested in this I think, as I am driven to write out the details.

You are the wind.

Doctor Who ( Warning: This Post Could Contain TMI)

A Homage To Physical Therapy

I'm a migraineur, I have been for 13 or 14 years.

At first I thought they were sinus headaches. but one day I was in a doctor's waiting room and took a little test I found in a pamphlet entitled " Do you have migraines".

Lo and behold I did. And being a huge fan of self diagnosing I reported my find to the doctor and he wrote me a script for Imitrex, a medicine that has served me well.

Until the rebound headaches started and I had to take one every day. By the time the big gun headaches hit, my system was so used to the meds they didn't immediately work, leaving me in big gun pain for many hours, sometimes a couple of days.

So against my will I went to a neurologist and she prescribed a 6 day course of steroids with no Imitrex or even Advil to relieve the pain.  To start the next day. ( Insert laugh track here, this would be a last resort for me).

I asked for a script for Physical Therapy. My right shoulder and back were chronically sore and doing what I do for a living, repetitive motion with a knife, hauling 5 gallon buckets of water and flowers around, plus what I do for fun, weeding and digging, just made it all worse and I would feel my shoulders and neck get ultra tense and then came a headache.

She wrote it and off I went. At PT we discovered that I basically had no lat muscles on the right side of my back.(maybe having to do with dislocating my shoulder while two stepping one night?) And my pecs and neck muscles did all the work for the lats.

2 months into it and I go 6 or 7 days without a headache, 1 day with a migraine, easily stopped with a pill, then another 5 or 6 pain free.

They massage my neck and shoulders, give me luscious heat wraps and then I stretch and work out with bands and weights to build up the missing muscles.They also play great music, have a steady flow of fun chatter and understand how the body works. And there are no drugs involved.

It's working, it's a miracle, and I haven't had to take the steroids.

If we listen to our bodies and believe what they tell us, there can be happy endings.

Or at least gardenias.

One Moment In Time

I'm at a loss what to do with my morning.

My entire garden is mulched.  And for one brief moment in time, weeded.

Insert bells ringing, children singing choruses of Hallelujah.

Superman asked what I would do with my time now.

Like it's a forever thing.

He mulched then edged the front and side beds last week, GG came over on Sunday and after a trip to my Tiffany's, Home Depot, finished off the potting area , then mulched the back bed and the berm.

Now I have flagstones to stand on, pots to plant in ( momentarily holding grasses that will go on the berm, and a coating of mulch.

You can run but you can't hide. Ask anyone who's ever been in a long term relationship with me.

Membership has it's rewards and it's responsibilities.

Today's cuteness brought to you by Lucy.

That Ain't My Truck

A week? It's been a week since I've been here?

Since you asked: gym,physical therapy, weeding, coffee and lunches with friends, weeding, work, the library, weeding, eating food Superman has prepared, gym, physical therapy, cleaning up mouse vomit. Same old, same old.

But I did promise you a potting table.

I haven't  put it to work yet but Gus is getting quite a bit of mileage out of it.

It's a great perch to spy a moth or a low flying bird, or just pose prettily for a picture or two.

 While the fig tree lay in a great lump on the weeds lawn, I would gaze forlornly at the expanse of brick and wonder what would ever replace the glory of the fig tree that was planted too close to the house.

I thought maybe a funky yet functional potting table and I wondered if I could make one. 

Then I laughed and laughed and went on Craigs List. Daily, for weeks.

This one was too far away, this one was too expensive and one day I had my Goldilocks moment:this one was just right.

So I called the number and spoke to the builder.

She had put it together out of pallets ( of course), had painted it my favorite color and would deliver it later that day for $50.00 total.

Done deal.

She arrived in a big black pick up truck, hauled it in the back yard, ran to get her electric screwdriver, put the two pieces together, complimented the garden and told me about her boyfriend. Dammit.

I immediately ordered one for my boss, it was done last weekend and delivered to my house on Tuesday.

Now I need two whiskey barrels to plant on either side on the table, edge and mulch underneath and I think we've got ourselves some garden cuteness.

I'm all about the cute, and pickup trucks.....

Back to Craigs List.

P.S. Marie, if you're reading, my neighbor just left town and gave me the potting mix. I  put it here to add to the flavor of the pic. Not mine, won't use, pinky swear.

PPS: I just got home from Zumba and  am reading the comments and LOL. I realize I didn't make myself clear. Earlier yesterday Gus tried to bring me a small mouse. i thanked him kindly( with a scream) and off he trotted. When he came indoors a bit later there was the vomiting incident. Even Suoerman wouldn't clean it up, that's how bad it was.Sorry, clearer? Though I love the idea of me cleaning up after a little sick mouse...