Apparently, there was too little bone for even the smallest of small pins and my finger surgery really didn't solve my problem. My finger might be straighter, it probably will hurt less, but as to creating a permanently connected joint....... that remains to be seen.
On top of all that bad news, I waited 45 minutes to be seen. Sometimes the fact that I've been shot turns out to be a good thing; it certainly put this event in perspective.
Today, my Ulysses teacher took a passionate piece of the text and turned it into burnt toast. Drier than dry, defining the terms but not touching the heat, I listened to him read aloud as my eyes fell on one of my margin notes, a quote from the Cornell professor with whom I studied the text in 2001. "Is this not a great book!?!?" appears beside that same paragraph.
A good teacher makes all the difference.
I received 30 Lessons for Living as a gift from the Dean of the College of Human Ecology last month. GRIN fits right in with this gerontologist's distillation of the combined wisdom of approximately 1000 experts - the very, very old. It's fun and funny and totally delightful while dispensing the kind of advice I wish G'ma were still able to dole out.
I read it just a little bit at a time. It's like visiting with my mom..... a decade ago.
The USDA has released a new plant hardiness zone map. I am now in Zone 9b.
It's not even a capital b. I'm not sure how I feel about living in a subset zone.
My new physical therapist was full of wonderful ideas and, since she agreed with the physiatrist that I will continue to make progress, I loved her a lot..... right up until she told me that I should go dancing.... take tango lessons.... and get TBG to go with me.
He's been a stalwart supporter of my rehabilitation efforts, but this was too much, even for him.
She adopts a whole body approach to the work. For now, instead of dancing, I'm going to be doing some Phoebe running on Christina's path this week.
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