Dance, Dance, Dance All Night Long

I'm trying to do the math here and I think my last Zumba class was February 6th. The following Thursday was the night before Valentines, D Day for a florist and the  Thursday after that I was having surgery.

Finally, 3 1/2 months later I was cleared for Zumba.

Tonight was my first night back.

I danced, I sang, I swing my arms, I shook my booty and yes, I cried a few tears of joy.

I was back along with my usual Zumba partner who is wonderfully pregnant..She's 15 weeks pregnant. I'm 15 weeks out of surgery. Do you see a pattern here. No? Okay.

Anyhoo, that's what I was missing, I'd lost my sparkle, you know I wasn't the same. I needed to exercise.

For a formerly fit person, who loves to lift weights and dance till her hair is soaking wet, I have had only PT for all these months.

And while the exercises are more challenging every week, and the weights are continually raised, I'm now on 10lbs. for biceps and triceps, I'm weak as a kitten and have little resistance in my right arm.

There's still a hell of a lot of scar tissue that needs breaking up, and my time on the therapist table is unbelievably painful.

If I didn't love my therapist and trust her with my entire being I'd punch her in the nose.

But I do so I don't.

After an hour of vigorous exercise, I came home and made a delicious smoothie with spinach from my garden, mango, banana, cantaloupe and blue berries.

It was an ugly thing but it was delicious.

Now off to as hot a bath as I can take, then time with the ice pack.

Ahhhhhh.

See, I just needed some oxygen to the brain.

Why didn't we think of this sooner?

Thank you all for your encouraging, understanding and kick in the pants advice on my last post.

I love you all dearly too and would be lost without our connection.

So I'll blog when the spirit moves me and dance whenever the opportunity arises.

 No more naval gazing, promise.

xo J

 

Sometimes The Light's All Shinin' On Me

Other times I can barely see.

I think I've lost my blogging mojo.

It's not like life isn't full of material.

The cats and I dog sat for the Lab from Thursday till Tuesday and you know that scenario was ripe with opportunities to blog about.

But I wrote two different posts and if they failed to amuse me, I saw no reason to make you all suffer through them.

And I had a three day weekend filled with Vets on motorcycles for Rolling Thunder to hundreds of military men on bikes starting the 350 miles to Virginia Beach raising awareness and money for our wounded warriors. Ride 2 Recovery.

 And all this happens in my hood.

So perhaps I'm becoming an observer, not a reporter.

Time will tell, my friends.

But I've loved this gig.

And lately it occurred to me, what a long strange trip it's been.

xo J

Flowers In The House I Live in: May 2014

Today was a perfect spring day. And I napped away half of it.

Both my mind and body said no more. Six events on Saturday, including a Quincenera that cost as much as a wedding had done me in.

So Lucy and I crawled into bed and slept through screaming children and lawn mowers, finally awakening to a torrent of French from Elle's room at 3:00pm.

Flowers in the house flashed through my mind and ignoring everything we know about cutting in the morning not in the heat of the day I fled to the garden grabbing flowers, fled to the attic to unearth a vase or two, took an hour to rearrange the living room and clean out a few drawers in the bedroom.

 While cleanliness is next to creativity for me, a vacuum cleaner is anathema to the cats.

I filled the vases outside and debated taking all pictures in the garden but then I thought what the hell did I clean the house for if not to put the black and white vase full of climbing hydrangea, ornamental plum, bronze fennel, fringe tree, lambs ears, black elderberry, viburnum and one perfect white iris on the Chinese chest?

And a jar full of fragrant pink peonies, lambs ear, clover and lemon slices against a blue wall?

Don't know whether to sniff or sip, do you?

The bedroom got a toile mug full of little red roses, my gas station roses I call them, along with equally pedestrian sages and a few stems of oregano.

Common can still be charming,no?

Last but well loved, a green bowl with three peonies, two Red Charms and the first of the Festiva Maximus.

My work here is done and my house smells divine.

I'll go to bed early tonight so I can be well rested and up for visiting all of you tomorrow.

I have two doctors appointments in the morning but I'll be checking in.

Go ahead, make my day.

xo j

If You've Got It, Flaunt it

I know, I know, totally MIA.

Mothers Day with it's 12 hour work days. Garden on Sunday, Elle's grandparents visiting from France for a 4th of July dinner on Monday night, ribs and corn on the cob ( the word "bon" was used with wild abandon) a friends surprise birthday dinner on Wednesday brings me to the here and now.

Home. The house is clean (ish), the lawn is mowed and I 'm surrounded by vases of red charm peonies.

A big storm is predicted and I would rather they burst open in a firework display of petals on the table than be battered down in the garden.

This may be the last of them but more beauty awaits.

So let's do it. Monday the 19th. Flowers in the house.

Ca va?

Happy

From this florists perspective, what makes Mothers Day a more enjoyable holiday than Valentines Day is the month and the weather.

It's May, it's May, the lovely month of May.

Though we have rain in the forecast for Saturday, our busy delivery day, there is no possibility of snow, or ice or freezing temperatures. Today will be in the high 80's.

The shop is bursting with all shades of peonies,local lilacs, sweet peas, lily of the valley, ranunculus, spirea, bearded iris and the last of the tulips.

And I am able to start and end my day with a walk around my own garden, full of it's own beauty, birdsong and cats popping up in unexpected places.

This morning the first poppy burst open. 

Now mind you this blast of euphoria is brought to you at 6:00am. At work an overflowing box of orders awaits us. I might not be as optimistic at 6:00pm.

I'm bringing breakfast, lunch, snacks and my heating pad. I can always fill a corsage bag up with ice at the 7-11 across the street from the shop.

But right now, right here, with a glass of latte at hand and Lucy waiting at the door for her breakfast, all seems possible.

And that's a magical feeling.

All hail spring!

Game On!

With my next door neighbor Nelda  finally back from her year abroad, or rather Afghanistan, the garden games commence.

We are both competing with handicaps, my shoulder surgery and her recent flare up of tendonitis.

We both go to physical therapy, we both work slowly and we both buy too many annuals.

My hidden weapon is Elle.

Her mother is also a gardener, so Elle grew up reluctantly weeding and tilling the soil.

But she doesn't seem reluctant to get her hands dirty in the clay soil of Virginia.

Plus her father is a physical therapist so she's always being admonished to not let me do too much.

Lucky me. Double lucky.

Yesterday she showed her mother the pink lily of the valley opening in the garden.

 
Her mother was enchanted. And in the proper spirit of gardening, wanted some. Immediately.

Today, on both sides of the ocean we rushed off to garden centers.

We bought tomatoes and basil and other tender herbs.

Her mother bought all pink annuals, I seem to be on a white kick. Well, white with hints of blacks and greys.

 We all planted, we all watered. Then Elle's dog Denver ate all the new plants.

Who knew golden retrievers dogs were herbivores?

There's a damn good chance I will walk the garden tomorrow and find cats lolling in freshly planted window boxes or digging up cilantro.

That will level even the International playing field.

That and the collection of seeds I was recently given hot off the presses from Giverny.

 May 4th. We're off to the races. The Derby's got nothing on us!

Bonne chance.