How many of you crab climb out of the recliner so as not to disturb the dog?
Category: Blogging
With the shoulder hating me, I am doing less Diamond Painting.
Meanwhile, the hobby that hurts the least is needle knitting. Even loom knitting hurts if I do too much.
I’m experimenting on two knitted hats. The one on the Flexee fine-gauge loom is an inch longer. I’ll need to make the needle hat longer to catch up. But each have the same amount of cast-on and stitches. Well, the Flexee one has two-by-two ribbing on the brim as opposed to one-by-one. Needle knitting is slower for me but I feel good about how it looks. I’m curious to see if they will be comparable in size when done.
I do have a couple pairs of socks in the works but they’re a bit too painful. It is the yarn and pattern I was using before the shoulder thing that is making it hard. If it were a good sock yarn it wouldn’t be so difficult.
I’m feeling better. I haven’t had to take Advil or use ice all day. And I could do 22 minutes on the treadmill. Not very fast for a mile but something, ya know? Lots of shows to catch up on.
Despite shoulder pain I’m managing 5-15 minutes a day.
I think that’s all I have for today. Yeah, typing here on the phone or on the computer hurts. As my friend Willowdot21 told me, ‘nothing last forever.’ I’ll take it! I think it’s getting better. If not there’s a doctor’s appointment in my future.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is โboard/bored.โ Use one, or use them both for bonus points. Enjoy!
When are board meetings anything boring. Yeah, leaving everyone stuff as a board.
Since my shoulder pain is stopping me from a lot of my hobbies -well, for as long as I usually ‘play’- I’m seeing how everyone else watches shows. Is boredom this antsy, can’t pay attention, feeling? Is my itchy hands not having something to do a bore? Like an awl boring into my soul. I can’t wait to be whole again.
Bored? Whittle this board. Oh, wait. I can’t. ๐ฅ
I’m having to go real slow in small bits on everything.
So much to learn. But healing first.
I don’t know how the day went weird. But here are some things that seem weird.
You may ask. We got a treadmill. But my watch didn’t pick up any steps because my hands were on the handles. Now maybe I’ll get a true reading. I’ll let you know tomorrow. Hey, do any of you have issues with burning from the sensors? It may be my allergies to metals. So far my ankle is fine.
I decided I needed to get back into needle knitting. It seems very new again. So my brain needs to rewire.
Oh, remember I told you about my sore shoulder? Well, I’ve been icing. I invented a way to do this. I have a hooded T-shirt. The icy container is in the hood and I can move it around to different parts of my back and shoulder. I’d give you a picture but can’t figure out how. Guess you’ll have to use your imagination. ๐
Guess I’ll go try and relearn my knitting.
Happy
On Rotation by Shirlene Obuobi
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Who recommended this to me? Thank you, whoever you are. I am usually not into romance novels, but I loved this all the way through! However, recommended, I do remember looking it up and finding it on Libby.
Mela Lee (Narrator) told the story with believable passion.
I’m crazy about medical stories; a Grey’s Anatomy fan from the beginning, Dr. Kildare, started me out when I was a child. So this story pulled me right in. That it included a younger generation of adults and another culture made it even more engaging.
I may come back to reread this when I need a light distraction again.
I kitted down for waterfall, then kitted up for Starry Night. I’ll never do that again. My right arm, shoulder, and back are killing me. I should have at least taken breaks to stretch. The annoying part is: I’m so addicted to Diamond Painting that I have a hard time stopping.
Back to the Aspercreme, Advil, ice, and stretching.
Per Linda:
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is โkey.โย Use it as a noun, a verb, or use it metaphorically. Have fun!
“Key!” she shouted. It made no sense to me. What key? What did I need a key for?
She was pointing down toward the table in the mud room. There was a key. But why did she shout? What am I supposed to use it for? I barely had the time to think. A huge man was behind my mom. Suddenly she was tumbling down the stairs. It took me no time to realize she was dead. Her neck bent sideways at a ninety-degree angle.
Without another thought, I took the key and ran to the car. Luckily, those keys were in my pocket. I wasted no time getting out of town. This seemed an impossible mission. But we’d had so many break-ins at home and work that I knew it had something to do with me. In that sense, I was a key. People were being killed. People I loved.
An old motel just out of town offered me the respite I needed. While sitting at the old bed, hoping the bed bugs would be kind, I looked at the key. Not house, not car, bank? Why me?
These questions would have to wait. A strange sound came from the bathroom. A toy wind-up monkey?
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