The dentist called me yesterday.
He told me he missed me. Of course he does. I bring him good money! Then, because he missed me so much, he called me back. So it was established that The Sir's jeep fund should in reality be called replacing Deanna's teeth fund. I love expensive CT scan's they reveal so much ... as in I have enough bone to replace the teeth that are now barely hanging in there .... I am such a superstar!
Yesterday was the first day back at the Stroke Group. I was excited to be back, and yet highly reserved to think that I was going to be unhappy at the end of the day. Well, truth be told, I was happy.... the whole right side of my body wasn't. So I told it to fuck off. That worked till later in the night when I was continuosly telling the body to fuck off, and it wasn't slicing the mustard.
So I got my hair coloured last week. It has taken on a bit of a red like appearance .. not really super red, but red enough indeed. AND, my bangs are still missing. The hairdresser lady has put the fear of gawd into me that I am not to go near my head of hair with a crappy pair of scissors and chop at my bangs. So far, so good. Yesterday I spent an undeterminate degree of time and equipment to recreate the freshly coiffed look and appeal that I left the hairdresser ladies home with. Despite magicals oils, big brushes, flat blow dryers and smoking hot straightening irons, I still wasn't able to achieve what the hairdresser lady was in a matter of moments, and a single blow dryer. It made me laugh. A lot. Yesterday .. and now today. The truth of the matter is ... I am home alone ... laughing by myself. We might have a situation here ...
I have a make believe list of the great details of what I wish to do today are ... and again ... I am troubled by which to go about my great imaginary list. I most definitely have a problem. Albeit a very manageable problem, but a problem all the same. I am perplexed by the very notion of what to do, and what not to do. Today the foot is kinda stinging like a vinegar bath, with an ache as big as frying pan thumped upon a log. Do I weather the feeling, and carry out my mundane tasks with some frivolity, or do I simply say ... ok .. fuck it, forget it ... just do nothing, and rest it. The conflict remains the regular source of confusion, ... as in "use it, or lose it" ... Trying to regain some mobility and stamina for carrying out routines of the day ... however ... that inflicts a certain amount of trauma .. and I can't seem to balance out pain between perservence, vs extending the length of time this foot remains wounded.
Well .. I will move into my exercise room and unleash my fury on my exercise aparatus. Oh wait ... that is non existant. Although ... I did have the great revelation from the exercise rehab physio that I found how to tie my arm exercise pulley system to a door handle, without it smacking me in the face.
So as much as The Sir explained his huge dis-satisfaction with his lack of space for his jeep like repairs and the fact that he needed a garage built to sooth his car addicted soul ... I pointed out to him a couple small things ... that which I did not have, or which my inner artistic soul has not been tapped into, nor replensihed in a very great number of years ... the fact that I once was a painter, and I used to draw, as well, I used to sew, and then along came scrapbooking, which as nice as that is, is far too big (the end product being the albums), for this tiny house (we do not even have a bookshelf - apart from my closet!), and the new onset task of enjoying to knit (despite what my facebook posts depict), as well as a scaled down version of scrapbooking, but card making .. I enjoy that as well, along with taking photographs..... which in all it's smallness still takes up space. So while the Sir complains about lacking of his great passions ... I pointed out that all my great passions were neatly (and haphazardly) tucked away in closets awaiting their turn for a revival.
No Sir, you are not alone in your wants.
And that's what we have for today!
He told me he missed me. Of course he does. I bring him good money! Then, because he missed me so much, he called me back. So it was established that The Sir's jeep fund should in reality be called replacing Deanna's teeth fund. I love expensive CT scan's they reveal so much ... as in I have enough bone to replace the teeth that are now barely hanging in there .... I am such a superstar!
Yesterday was the first day back at the Stroke Group. I was excited to be back, and yet highly reserved to think that I was going to be unhappy at the end of the day. Well, truth be told, I was happy.... the whole right side of my body wasn't. So I told it to fuck off. That worked till later in the night when I was continuosly telling the body to fuck off, and it wasn't slicing the mustard.
So I got my hair coloured last week. It has taken on a bit of a red like appearance .. not really super red, but red enough indeed. AND, my bangs are still missing. The hairdresser lady has put the fear of gawd into me that I am not to go near my head of hair with a crappy pair of scissors and chop at my bangs. So far, so good. Yesterday I spent an undeterminate degree of time and equipment to recreate the freshly coiffed look and appeal that I left the hairdresser ladies home with. Despite magicals oils, big brushes, flat blow dryers and smoking hot straightening irons, I still wasn't able to achieve what the hairdresser lady was in a matter of moments, and a single blow dryer. It made me laugh. A lot. Yesterday .. and now today. The truth of the matter is ... I am home alone ... laughing by myself. We might have a situation here ...
I have a make believe list of the great details of what I wish to do today are ... and again ... I am troubled by which to go about my great imaginary list. I most definitely have a problem. Albeit a very manageable problem, but a problem all the same. I am perplexed by the very notion of what to do, and what not to do. Today the foot is kinda stinging like a vinegar bath, with an ache as big as frying pan thumped upon a log. Do I weather the feeling, and carry out my mundane tasks with some frivolity, or do I simply say ... ok .. fuck it, forget it ... just do nothing, and rest it. The conflict remains the regular source of confusion, ... as in "use it, or lose it" ... Trying to regain some mobility and stamina for carrying out routines of the day ... however ... that inflicts a certain amount of trauma .. and I can't seem to balance out pain between perservence, vs extending the length of time this foot remains wounded.
Well .. I will move into my exercise room and unleash my fury on my exercise aparatus. Oh wait ... that is non existant. Although ... I did have the great revelation from the exercise rehab physio that I found how to tie my arm exercise pulley system to a door handle, without it smacking me in the face.
So as much as The Sir explained his huge dis-satisfaction with his lack of space for his jeep like repairs and the fact that he needed a garage built to sooth his car addicted soul ... I pointed out to him a couple small things ... that which I did not have, or which my inner artistic soul has not been tapped into, nor replensihed in a very great number of years ... the fact that I once was a painter, and I used to draw, as well, I used to sew, and then along came scrapbooking, which as nice as that is, is far too big (the end product being the albums), for this tiny house (we do not even have a bookshelf - apart from my closet!), and the new onset task of enjoying to knit (despite what my facebook posts depict), as well as a scaled down version of scrapbooking, but card making .. I enjoy that as well, along with taking photographs..... which in all it's smallness still takes up space. So while the Sir complains about lacking of his great passions ... I pointed out that all my great passions were neatly (and haphazardly) tucked away in closets awaiting their turn for a revival.
No Sir, you are not alone in your wants.
And that's what we have for today!
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