Monday, May 31, 2010

Some Images . . .


Me, in a baggy t-shirt and a Bedouin headscarf, the day we rode out into the Sahara.





Literally, a panel truck FULL of oranges.












Olives . . .











Tea in a Berber home










Shopping in Marrakech

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Countless Bottles of Water Later . . .

. . . and I am back from two weeks in Morocco.

There will be photos - there will be stories. But right now, there is laundry. And jet lag. And needing to go to the Jewel for groceries.

Happy Memorial Day every one, and thanks especially to those who have served and do serve our country in our armed forces.

If you're still out there, stay tuned - just let me get the sand of the Sahara out of my clothes :-)

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Walking on Broken Glass . . .

That's what's in my head this early morning. As my friend, Michelle would say, an earworm. And well worth watching again - if for no other reason than seeing both John Malkovich and Hugh Laurie in period costume. Not sure why it's in my head - no former lovers in my picture . . . maybe it's my feet . . .

Some days they are feeling so much better, and then, out of nowhere, they hurt. I just keep going along, but having my time this regimented - and little time for anything else or even myself is taking its toll. The therapist relented and said I could ride my bike . . . but other than on the weekends, there is little time to do so.

PT three nights a week and the gym once - that leaves me one evening free, and I'm feeling a little fractured. Work continues at break-neck pace, and when I leave there, there does not seem to be much time left over for anything other than heading directly to PT, and by the times that's done, I have about an hour to see to anything else I might have wanted to see to. It's not enough. No time - no time to cook, poor food choices, take out daily in some form, not sleeping well, and not enough time or energy to work out . . . this is a recipe for disaster . . . and not in the making, already in process.

There are times in one's life where the effects of everything that is going on become visible - the last time this happened to me was when I got divorced, moved across the country, changed jobs, bought a house and my mom died. I can remember looking in the mirror at myself and wondering if I was ever going to look OK again - huge black circles from lack of sleep and the pain of loss clearly marked on my face.

I looked in the mirror yesterday, and I have aged appreciably in the last month. I guess all this foot nonsense and its concomitant parts have taken their toll. In truth - I have been dealing with this for about a year - the fact that it's only now showing in my face is pretty amazing.

Up so very early this morning because I woke up before 4 and just could not go back to sleep, and am in my workout clothes, but not actually going to make it down to the basement to work out - The stretching and exercises and icing . . . they take at least a half an hour every morning (and evening) and the car needs to go in for a checkup and maintenance today. Early.

Whiner . . .

This will pass and I continue on my path - but the graphic reminder now visible on my face that time is passing and parts of my body are not working as they should is a little sad. I can see why so many in Hollywood succumb to the plastic surgeon - one day you look like you've always looked, and the next - you look so very different. The allure of the knife and promise of what our culture prizes so much - youth - are strong pulls.

But this is my face and my body. I worked hard to have both, and I have no interest in looking like someone else - or a cartoon of myself. And really, it's quite likely after a few good nights of sound sleep that I will look and feel fine. And so I continue with good sunscreen and a hat. But it would be nice to walk without pain, and sleep through the night without a foot or leg cramp waking me up, and have enough time to fit everything in.

Speaking of which . . . I had better get cracking or I will not get to the dealership with the car in time to get back home and get on the train.