A glance at my calendar shows I should have a blog ready to post by tomorrow. Seriously? How has this happened? I have only a vague, ill-formed idea of a subject. It is my usual practice to write a rough draft about five days in advance of publication day. Then come daily editing, rereading, clarification, checking spelling. One would think SpellCheck would take care of that. One might be too optimistic. SpellCheck can’t do homonyms, for example. Final steps include (pointlessly) arguing with the WordPress program. To those of you who follow my blog, two weeks ago I sent out three duplicates of the same thing. Sorry.
So…I think I can cobble together two totally unrelated topics that might be of interest and of sufficient length to make reading them entertaining; and require more than 15 seconds to read. First, an illustration of why exercise is not necessarily good for you:
Last Thursday I was mid-way through a training session with the ever-patient Deon. I had finished 15 reps of lifting weights on the bench press station and intended to follow Deon dutifully to the next torture apparatus. The bench press I had just used has a T-shaped bar beneath it, so one can hook one’s feet there for extra leverage. I don’t hook my feet on that, but it is there for those that choose to use it. I guess I forgot the existence of the stupid bar, although I’ve uneventfully left the bench dozens of times.
In an uncharacteristic burst of enthusiasm, I sprang up and set out for the leg press. My body set out, but my feet were firmly anchored in place under the bar. A dramatic face-plant ensued. I skidded along the rubbery gym floor on my nose. Nose was skinned but not broken. Later, close assessment revealed very tiny scrapes on my forehead, right elbow, and right knee. Praise God no one was present except Deon. He heard the crash and whirled around to find me sprawled out in a graceless pile on the floor. Yikes.
I think it is instinctive to race to a fallen person to try to get them back on their feet. I would have none of that. Since I have some experience with falling, it is my practice to request a minute of peace so I can assess the damage. All OK. Time to get up. No harm done. My next worry was that Deon would have a heart attack. But he didn’t. We resumed our session slowly, then heard a strange beeping from my Apple watch. Mr. Apple apparently realized that I had fallen and might need help. Genius! I answered his questions and no first responders were summoned.
Some months ago, I fell into a ravine unattended. Since then, son Dryden has highly recommended that I get an Apple watch or other fall-detecting device. “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” So, that was good advice. Who knew. Now I think of the scabs on my nose as a badge of honor. If anyone is foolish enough to ask me what happened, they are treated to a lengthy explanation of the incident. Or, even better, I state “You should see the other guy.” This strikes me as hilarious, as it is the last thing you would expect an elderly white-haired lady to say.
Time for the next topic, unrelated to the previous anecdote. I have just rented an apartment in Brooklyn for a year! Both my children, and both granddaughters, live in Brooklyn. I rarely saw them before last (Covid-1) year—then I never saw them. If I were to go to NY, Governor Cuomo insisted that I self-quarantine for 14 days. If my children came to Atlanta to help me with my latest injury (it was always something) they had to self-quarantine on their return, unable to go to work or do much of anything for two weeks. My situation was far from unique, but I really longed for family to be closer. In retrospect I should have had a bigger family.
So, I count on a year of frequent visits to NY, with my own place to stay. My older granddaughter is currently in college in California, too late for me to have a geographically close relationship with her. But my younger granddaughter is a senior in high school, so I plan to take advantage of her company on every possible occasion. I kept no promises I had made to come to her volleyball games last year. Only one parent was allowed to attend, even for tournaments. The delta variant of Covid-19 is spreading with frightening rapidity. I so hope to see her play in the fall. If circumstances dictate there is quarantining to be done, I’m going to have it in Brooklyn. I’m thinking my New York adventures will be fodder for several posts!
My usual closing is for prayer, but prayers are needed now more than ever. Prayers and vaccinations.