Slowly, ever so slowly
I’m walking around at a reasonable pace with crutches. Haven’t used the walker in a week. I do the exercises faithfully. The stairs still make me a little nervous, but I go down and up regularly. The three male cats are vying to defend me. Each one thinks he is the only cat who should be permitted near/against/on me. There is a fierce competition going on. Puck usually wins but not more than 60% of the time. They freely push each other off the couch or out of bed in order to enjoy the monopoly of my attention. Nature is wicked. Here I am unable to harvest, unable to can, although I’ve done some pickling and freezing. Outside the garden is belching forth enough produce to start a farm stand or even a green grocers. We have haystacks of zucchini, piles of yellow squash and pattypans, cukes, the extremely early, unheard of, never even dreamed of early peppers and cherry tomatoes. The garlic will be ready to dig tomorrow but of course no digging for me. Woody is harvesting and using the “snakes” from the garlic. They have to be kept cut. I’m still in constant pain but I do more than I could. I get to my desk computer for at least 45 minutes every day now. I’m finally all caught up on email. I do the necessary things and ignore fFacebook. It looks so beautiful outside, I would love to go out but the sun porch is as far as I can get. That’s almost like being outside, minus the direct sun and the mosquitoes and black flies. This is a bumper year for all kinds of flying, crawling, leaping, and buzzing buglife. Even in the house I am seeing beetles I cannot name or recall ever noticing before this summer. No way to do any writing. I learned long ago my imagination doesn’t function in a useful way on opiates. Last night I had the chicken soup I made and froze before the operation and it felt good. Not only tasted good but felt therapeutic. I’m still not able to cook, but I can chop, act as sous chef. Woody is learning to his surprise and dismay that all those dishes I make constantly are not as easy as he assumed. Woody took down the birdfeeders for the summer two days ago because the squirrels were climbing in them and swinging against the window and Mingus, Xena and Puck were going insane. Xena hurled herself against the window so hard it’s amazing it didn’t break. The squirrels actively like to tease the cats. Now that the feeders are stowed till fall things are quieter in cat land. I’m reading the new edition of Roxanne Dunbar’s 2nd memoir, OUTLAW WOMAN, The War Years. So much of it is a trip down into my own memories. Roxanne gave it to me at the Women’s Liberation conference in Boston that I took part in – very late March. I knew I would need something compelling to read while rehabbing so I saved it till I got home. It’s especially good to read when pain wakes me sometime between 2 and 4 a.m. and I take another pill and Woody makes hot milk with nutmeg and wraps the ice cuff on me. I have about 35 minutes to kill and it’s a great time to read something riveting.