• Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 547 other followers

  • “Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers” — Isaac Asimov

  • Recent Posts

  • Pages

  • Categories

  • Archives

  • Blog Stats

    • 151,026 hits

Remembering Molly

Ten years ago, I brought this furry bundle of joy home from my local animal shelter.  I’d fallen in love with her from the moment I’d seen her.

She’d been found living on the street and couldn’t have been more than seven weeks old.  She was tiny and simply adorable.

Molly was a force to be reckoned with, let me tell you.  From the moment she tore into the house, she decided that she wanted to be the boss.  Aubie took issue with that, while Pele cowed behind Aubie.  Molly instantly took to her new big brother and hounded him relentlessly.  The first night with her in the house was quite the experience, and I wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

She was pretty sick those first few weeks with some serious intestinal parasite issues.  The vet who cared for her told me not to hold out for much . . . that she probably wouldn’t make it.

What nobody knew at the time was that Molly had a stubborn streak that was a mile long.

We took her to a soccer tournament in Virginia because she was too little and too sick to board.  She was so small that she crawled under the seats separating the front and back sections of the car.  Rooster took such good care of her during the games so that we could watch Chicky play.

Molly proved the vet wrong and survived those first few, antibiotic-laden weeks.

She actually did more than survive; she thrived.

I’m pretty sure there was more than her attitude and the medicine at work.

She was experiencing the power of love, and she gave as good as she received.

Molly didn’t like a lot of people; it took her a number of visits with someone to accept the person.

She immediately loved us, though, and was a loyal and protective companion.

She and Pele had tons of fun in those early years . . . back when Pele had ruined me, and I was letting the dogs get on the couches.  Mind you, Pele had just come into my home six months prior, so he hadn’t taken long to rewrite the rules that had been firmly in place for Aubie . . . typical second-child syndrome, you know.

Molly and Pele used to fly from one couch to another during play time.  They chased each other hard and fast.  This play continued even after they were banned from the furniture.  Every time Molly got a bath, her playful streak would come out, and she and Pele would go nuts.

From the get-go, we suspected that Molly had some cat DNA in her because she imitated some feline mannerisms.

For instance, she used to walk on the back of the couches when she and Pele would play,  She also liked to rub against people’s legs when they walked through the house.  That’s something she never stopped doing, and with her thick, white fur, dark pants and dresses were not safe while Molly was around.  She also rubbed up against the sides and back of the couches.  I later grew to suspect skin allergies were the cause of this, but who knows.

After Aubie passed away, Molly immediately took ownership of the Alpha position, and she quickly let the other dogs know it.  Pele often got in trouble for getting into stuff when her short, sharp bark alerted me.  I used to watch as he would throw her dirty looks when I was reprimanding him.  They were siblings in every sense of the word.  She did the same thing to Gambit when he would go to the neighbor’s fence to smash his head through to try to get to their dogs.  Molly was the enforcer.

Notice that I didn’t say that she was the rule follower.

Not only was Molly sassy, but she was smart.  Wicket smart.

Molly and Pele were best buddies and got into some trouble together.  We firmly believe that she and Pele were the fur baby equivalent of Bonnie and Clyde.  Molly was the brains, and Pele was the muscle.

Molly loved to run . . . out of the house and around the neighborhood.  You could watch the two of them communicate silently, with just a look.  It was in that moment that they would bolt for the laundry room door . . . the one that led to the garage.  Pele would jump on the door handle, pulling it down as he landed, and the two of them would run out of the garage to freedom.  We started keeping a key in the lock because of this.  She knew when that door was unlocked, and shenanigans would ensue.

Molly hated thunder but, as the Mr. discovered one day, loved to play in the rain.  She got out of the house when it was storming, ran to the pond across the street, and looked back at the Mr. as he tried desperately to get her in.  Despite the loud booming, that dog was only coming back when she was ready.  Remember that stubborn streak I mentioned?  Yeah, it wasn’t so good during these kinds of instances.

Molly’s need for speed, coupled with her intelligence, led to one of the funniest escape antics I’ve ever seen.

Here’s how she looked from the other side of the fence . . .

To be sure, Molly kept us on our toes!

She eventually mellowed out as all dogs are wont to do as they age.

She began getting gray hair in her ears, although her face maintained its puppy appearance.  Her wide girth often had us singing, “I like big butts, and I cannot lie.”

Ha!

In the last few months, Molly had begun coughing.  We figured it was from the tree bark that she was constantly chewing out back as limbs always littered the yard thanks to the storms that Florida is famous for.  When I took her to the vet for her yearly checkup in April, I was given a couple of antibiotics for a small red spot on her gums and told that her coughing was most likely allergies.  This made sense given how she’d spent years rubbing against the couches in what I suspect was her attempt to scratch her back.

In early June, Molly threw up a few times, and one night, she pooped in the house.  Her appetite was also beginning to wane.  I decided I needed to run her in to see what was up.

The first concern was her weight loss.

The vet put her on acid reflux medicine, and a round of (very expensive) blood tests was ordered up.  The doctor was looking for liver and kidney issues; however, everything came back clean.  The vet warned me that she couldn’t rule out cancer, especially for a ten year old dog like Molly.  There wasn’t much more she could tell me without sending me to a specialist who could do more invasive and very expensive tests.

So, I gave Molly her meds and tried everything in the world to get her to eat.  For awhile, she seemed to be getting better, but when the Mr. and I left for his surgery, she refused to eat for the dog sitter.

I’m so very glad that we were able to come home, sans surgery (see previous post), because Molly’s health started taking a turn for the worse.

Her eating was spotty, and she just didn’t seem to be herself.  We chalked that up to lack of food = lack of energy.  She was still drinking.

When you don’t feel good, the water comes to you.

I tried feeding her pureed pumpkin and even baby carrot food.  This dog was not living to eat but eating to live . . . albeit unwillingly.

I bought a couple of tubes of high calorie gel and used a syringe to feed it to her.  She despised it.  I was hoping to trigger her hunger mechanism or at least keep her going until whatever she was fighting passed.

It didn’t work, and by yesterday afternoon, she wasn’t tolerating the mix of Pedialyte/water that we were giving her.  She couldn’t keep anything down, and she was having trouble walking outside to potty.

It was awful, y’all.  To watch my big, strong girl lay, confused as she worked so hard to make it to her bed was gut wrenching.

We planned on taking her to the vet this morning if things didn’t improve.  We had a lot of people praying for her, and we were praying too.

The Mr. just didn’t want to make the decision about putting her to sleep.  Doing that with Aubie had nearly done him in with the second guessing.  He just couldn’t do that with Molly, and I couldn’t blame him.

Unfortunately, by 8pm, she was really struggling.  She just couldn’t get comfortable for long periods of time.

I asked the Lord to take her gently, but alas, that wasn’t the road He led us to travel.

I got the Mr. up at midnight, fearing that she was about to go.  He sat with us for two hours, and we spoke words of love into her soul.

We told her how much we loved her . . . what a wonderful dog she had been . . . how much we would miss her . . . that it was okay to let go.

She was stubborn though, and she would not give up.  By that time, she could only lift her head, and she repeatedly looked back at the Mr. to make sure he was still there.

The Mr. went back to bed around 2am; he had to go to work in the morning.  I grabbed my yoga mat, a pillow, and a blanket, and I nestled close to her with my arm around her neck.  She was at eye level with me.

I dozed off for about 45 minutes, and when I woke up, she was still taking ragged breaths.  It was obvious that she was not registering anything though; she seemed to be in a catatonic stage.

I sat with her another hour before things suddenly changed.  I yelled for the Mr., and he came running out of the bedroom.

Y’all, it wasn’t long before she took her final breaths.  It was the hardest thing I have ever watched, but I was determined to be with her to the end.  I think that she became aware of us at that point.  I hope we brought her comfort in her last moments.

And then, at 5:15am, she was gone.

I can’t type this without crying, but I need to process it, and this is the only way I know how.

The loss I felt in the moment she let go was devastating.  Although I am glad that her suffering is over, and y’all, she really, really struggled, I immediately grieved her absence.

This furry baby had been a part of my life for ten years.

That’s a long time.

She and I had a strong bond that was forged from understanding.  She was a unique blend of cray-cray that I totally identified with.  She was anti-social, and I can be that way too.  She used to hide under the bed when she got scared, and there are a lot of times when I retreat to my home to get away from things.

Brokenness met brokenness, and love bloomed.

That was my Molly.

I think that’s why we took such good selfies together.  I’m often teased for the stuff I post on social media, but I am so thankful for all of the pictures I have.  They paint a picture of my life with Molly, our closeness, and how empty of a space her passing has left.

I’m grieving hard, y’all.  This pill is a bitter one to swallow.

Yesterday morning, I woke up, and most things were right with the world.  Today, mine is turned upside down.

I am so grateful that we had Sunday, which was her last good day.  She got outside and enjoyed the sun (and selfies).

I trust God through all of this, as I see His hand of mercy through the events that led to today.  It’s not a coincidence that the last vet to treat her wound up being the first one who saw her and gave her such low chances of surviving her initial health crisis.  She even remembered Molly after all those years.  God had brought us full circle.

Still, my heart is shattered.

So, if you see me, and I seem sad, please understand why.

I need time to adjust.

I don’t know how long it will take me to get used to only seeing two dogs at the door when I come in . . . not hearing her shrill bark when I pull into the garage after work . . . not having her soulful eyes stare back at me when I lean in for a hug.

She used to do this thing where she would put her front paws on your shoulders when you reached down to pet her.  She was the only one of our dogs who could sit back on her haunches.

Gosh, but I’m really going to miss that.

I am praying that God allows our pets to be in heaven.  I want to be reunited with my sweet girl one day.

For now, I’ll let myself feel the hurt of mourning, and I won’t apologize for it.

I know that time will dull the sharpness of the pain, but for now, it’s razor sharp and is cutting through every fiber of my body.

I thank the Lord for leading me to her that fateful summer day ten years ago.  I pray that I was as faithful a servant to her as she was to me.

And to you, Mama Girl, I thank you for always trusting me, even when you didn’t understand.  They say that a dog is man’s best friend.  Well, girlfriend, you certainly earned that title.

I’ll never forget you, and I’ll always love you.

Love,

Mama

Script Change

In my last post, I think I mentioned that I was going to be having a couple of busy weeks.

It started off with some packing on Monday . . .

On Tuesday, after leaving explicit instructions with the house/dog sitter, the Mr. and I jumped in the car and headed down the road.  Snacks were a must . . .

The Mr. drove all day while I made him listen to the pre-season episode of Rob Has a Podcast Big Brother.  The Mr. was not amused, and I was forced to listen to talk radio for the next two hours.

We hit some rain during our trip but finally arrived at our destination . . .

The sign is a little hard to read, but it says Mayo Clinic.

You may remember my post back in February when I described the health issues that the Mr. had been suffering from.  Over the last few months, he’d been back and forth to the Mayo Clinic for periodic testing.

In May, after another round of MRIs and other tests, he decided to push forth with a very complicated surgery.  This surgery would involve a team of doctors. Surgery was scheduled for June 29th.  He had a round of pre-op appointments on the 28th, which was why we left on the 27th.

The Mr. was very nervous about the surgery; the recovery time was expected to be six to eight weeks with a possible follow-up surgery.  Success was expected but not 100% guaranteed.

Let’s just say that those six hours in the car were not exactly what you’d model the perfect marriage on.  Tension was high.

On the 28th, I got up at the crack of dawn and visited the hotel’s fitness room to get in a walk.  I knew we had a long day ahead of us . . . hours of walking back and forth between doctor’s offices . . . lots of sitting time.

I didn’t plan very well, so we were scrambling to get ready in time for his first appointment, which had been scheduled bright and early . . . 7:30.

I can’t say that we showed our best sides to one another as we fussed.

Ahem.

It’s a good thing our hotel was right next to the hospital, though, which saved oodles of time.  Jacksonville traffic ain’t not joke, y’all.

I love the Mayo Clinic for so many reasons.  Timeliness is a biggie.  We have all experienced the horrors of waiting for hours while doctors deal with double-booked schedules.  This doesn’t happen at the Mayo Clinic.

We did have to wait a very short time, but we’d been told that the doctor we were seeing . . . the urological surgeon . . . had a surgery that morning.  He was popping in to see us before he went to that surgery.

Now, let me tell you.  We have talked to a couple dozen doctors, at least, since the end of January when this ordeal began.  Many of them have not had good bedside manners.  Most have been knife happy . . .  as in let’s do surgery right now kind of happy.

We don’t like those people very much.

This doctor was not like that at all.  He was very approachable and talked at our level.  He began by going over the risks of what he would be doing.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Every surgery has risks.  We weren’t really worried about those too much.  I mean, we were at the Mayo Clinic, for heaven’s sake.

Then, the doctor sat back in his chair, and he said, “I’m not really sure why you’re having surgery.  In fact, the GI doctor and I were talking about your case yesterday, and we don’t know why you are having it.”

Now, imagine for a second that from January 23rd, you’ve been told that you’ve got to have surgery . . . that you’ll die without it.

Every single doctor had been telling us that.

Then, this much-educated, very respected doctor sits and tells us that he doesn’t know why the Mr. is going forward with it?

We were majorly confused.

I cocked my head to the side . . .

Accurate

The doctor went on to explain that the Mr.’s most recent MRI had shown . . .

Wait for it . . .

That he was GETTING BETTER!

Double accurate

The doctor, in turn, looked confused.  He told us that typically, patients are completely on board with surgery, but to see us so confused was a signal that surgery did not need to be happening.

The Mr. then shared some of the things that his GI doctor . . . the doctor we started out with and the one who specializes in Crohn’s patients . . . had told him in May.

Well, Mr. Urological Surgeon rang up Mr. GI doctor right there in front of us, and they had a brief meeting of the minds where we learned that the GI doctor had not made the Mr.’s situation sound quite so dire the last time.

I looked at the Mr. and said, “I guess this is why I need to come with you to these appointments – so we have two sets of ears.”

Apparently so.

But I was still confused.  Were we talking about canceling the urological part of the surgery or both parts (the GI part too)?

Both.

I looked at the doctor and said, “Well, now I won’t have to take care of a sick man!”

He genuinely laughed at that.

Y’all KNOW what I’m talking about and don’t pretend that you don’t.

The doctor said that the Mr. had been showing fewer symptoms the past few months (I attribute this to God answering prayer and to the Specific Carbohydrate Diet, which the Mr. has been following pretty religiously since February), so they don’t like to operate on asymptomatic people.

Now, to be sure, the Mr. still has a messed up intestine from the 30 years he’s been dealing with Crohn’s, but we both know that surgery won’t cure it.  Crohn’s can hit multiple parts of the intestine.  Getting rid of one affected section won’t guarantee that it won’t reappear elsewhere.

The doctor assured us that if the Mr. takes a turn for the worse, he can always reschedule surgery.  He also put the Mr. on a plan to visit him in three months for tests to monitor his progress.  His abscess isn’t fully healed.  A new MRI will check on that, as will some other tests.

The doctor walked us back to the GI doctor’s nurse, gave her instructions to cancel the rest of the day’s pre-op appointments, and then sent us off with his blessing.

Y’all should have seen us walk out of there.

We were shell shocked – dazed looks on our faces.  Our brains could not process this change of events.

We started texting people immediately.  His parents had to be notified first because they were about to drive several hours to be with us for the surgery.

I had to let my friends from home know.  There’s a small group of us who are really close, and they had been praying non-stop.

I let Rebecca know.  She and I had been texting for days.

Then, because we didn’t know what to do, we got breakfast in the wonderful cafeteria at the hospital.

Crazy, eh?

The Mr. ate with gusto, let me tell you.  I don’t think you could have wiped the smile from his face if you’d tried.

When we finished, we went back to the hotel, loaded up our stuff, and checked OUT!  We took a selfie (which I posted on IG and FB with the update) in the parking lot and began our long drive home.

Gosh, y’all, but we were still so confused!

We tried to figure out how we’d gotten things so wrong!  What the heck?  We talked back through the series of appointments, but honestly, I think we would have made the same decision!  The Mr. was trying to figure out what the GI doctor wanted him to do.  The doctor couldn’t tell him explicitly what to do because things were not clear cut.  Thankfully, the urological surgeon gave it to us straight, God bless him!

We listened to praise music the rest of the way home, let me tell you.

We did make a pit stop to see the Mr.’s parents.  We also visited with Chicky’s puppy, who’d been visiting the grandparents for the past two weeks while Chicky traveled.

We got to see Chicky as well.  She arrived about an hour after we got there.  She’d flown into her city the night before and had made the drive up to retrieve her fur baby.  The original plan had been for her to go to the Mayo Clinic so she could be there for the surgery, but with the cancellation, she adjusted her plans.

It was a blessing, in so many ways, to get to go home.  Our fur babies needed us . . .

Molly had been refusing to eat (she’s been pretty sick).

We were eager to resume life.

I have to credit Rebecca for the title of this post.  As we were texting, she said that it was like God had called for a script change in our plans.

In my mind, the summer had been split in half . . . the first being one of luxury, and the second being one of care giving (i.e. not relaxing).

Waking up LATE on Thursday, in our own house, made the Mr. and me smile all day. It was a relief to partake in normal activities without the stress of a looming surgery hanging over our heads.

All Photos-505

I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I took a two-hour nap in the recliner that afternoon, despite having slept in past 9am.

We were able to attend the reception for a precious young couple who just got married in May.  They are the children of dear friends of ours.  I’d RSVP’d no, because of the surgery; my friend eagerly told us to come when I texted her that we were going to be home.

As I said in the update I posted on Facebook, although surgery could still be in the Mr.’s future, we are celebrating the miracle of TODAY.

Isn’t that what life is about – finding joy in each moment?  Heck, it’s been my hashtag since November 13th.

I know that God doesn’t answer yes to all of our prayer requests, but there’s nothing wrong with asking for things.  His no’s are for good reasons because He sees the whole plan for our lives.

But, when He does say yes, hello world, but you just can’t deny that it’s Him.

A friend commented on how good we looked after I posted a selfie from the reception.  I told her that gratefulness is a good look for us.  It’s one that we should wear every second of our lives, because we have so much to be thankful for, good times and bad.

The Mr. and I have certainly had some difficult days in recent months.  We are thrilled to be able to bask in the sunshine of a good day for a change.

When Distance Ain’t a Thang

I love the interwebs.

I love how friendships can grow and distances can be bridged.

My friendship with Rebecca is one example.

This girl and I have been friends since 2006 when we started reading each others’ blogs.

I do truly count her as one of my BFFs.

It’s because of her that I started doing virtual races.  I won’t lie.  I thought virtual races were weird.  At first.  Then, I started signing up for the HRC races, and wham bam, I was hooked.

You might remember the Halloween race we did together . . .

Then, there was the BFF race we did a couple of months ago.

Well, last Saturday, we did another BFF race!

I loved seeing her picture when her medal arrived at her house . . .

It’s so motivating to have a friend you’re accountable to.  Knowing that she was doing the race in her little corner of the world gave me the extra oomph to go out and walk my own miles.

I got my distance in first.  I think she might have actually cleaned her house or performed some other super-amazing domestic duty before she got out.  Here in Florida, you’ve got to go before it gets too humid.

I was seriously sweating, y’all, when I finished.  Even walking at 9am was brutal!

I’m tough and pushed through.

I sent Rebecca my selfies, and when she finished, she put our pictures together . . .

Her shirt was just fabulous!  She has the best workout apparel, y’all!

Totally borrowed this from your blog, Rebecca. Hope you don’t mind!

I hung up this medal beside the last BFF medal we got.  I’d sent her the half that made the heart whole because I sometimes manage to plan well.  Even with my teacher brain on vacation, I did something okay, eh?

It felt good to add my race bib to my collection (I use a bib holder that I ordered from Gone for a Run).  I know that the medals might seem kind of childish to some people, but to me, they are symbolic of perseverance and a determination to push myself beyond what I sometimes think I’m capable of.

Thanks, Rebecca, to always being open to doing these races with me!  ❤

Week 32

Here we are at almost Tuesday, and I’ve failed, once again, to post a timely update.  That summer sun must be doing something to my brain!

So, let’s talk about last week and my continued recovery from my trimalleolar fracture and subsequent surgery.

Last week was a big milestone – 32 weeks (i.e. eight months)!  It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?

When I last left you, I’d had a rough weekend, and my ankle was not looking its best.

I went to physical therapy on Monday and, after completing all of my exercises had a long chat with my therapist.  It was, after all, my last visit for a month (remember the insurance issues I mentioned a couple of weeks ago?).

First of all, he was shocked when I told him about my time for the Superhero 5k I’d walked the Saturday before.  He told me that he knew people who couldn’t run it that fast.  He’s a good cheerleader, let me tell you.

Then, I told him about my leg workout the next day and the exercise I did that I probably shouldn’t have done.  I expected to be properly chided, but he actually told me that it wasn’t the move that had done me in.  It was, most likely, the fact that I’d done a lot of yard work the previous Friday, walked the 5k at a brisk pace the next day, and then had worked my lower body out that Sunday.

He explained that I should have rearranged some of my activities.  For instance, I could have done an upper body workout on Sunday or gone much lighter on the weights for the leg routine.  He said that doing so many things that required a lot from my ankle in such a short span of time led to the swelling and pain.

I also told him that I’d had a lot of tightness in my right knee when I’d done the 5k.  I figured I’d walked too fast, but he told me that it was lack of strength in that leg, which is what my exercises and therapy will continue to improve.

Ultimately, he said that I still need to give myself time to heal.

There goes that word again.

This process has hammered into my head the fact that I am not a very patient person.

Those who know me best would probably agree.

Ahem.

I feel like Ariel, when she sings Part of Your World . . .

Flipping your fins, you don’t get too far
Legs are required for jumping, dancing
Strolling along down a – what’s that word called again?
Street.

Up where they walk, up where they run
Up where they stay all day in the sun
Wanderin’ free – wish I could be
Part of that world.

That’s me.  To a T.

As J and I talked, I got a little teary.  He reminded me of how far I’ve come since January 23 when I first walked into physical therapy.  I was on crutches still, unable to walk properly and in so much pain when I tried.

Now, I’m lifting weights, walking 5k’s, and mowing the grass without the aid of a self-propelled mechanism.

I want to be able to do these things and run again . . . without pain.

Time.

J and I talked about what I can be doing during my PT hiatus.  The Mr. has been very concerned that I’m doing too much.

Ya think.

<insert sarcastic look>

J told me that he wants me to walk as much as I can . . . every day even.  He wants me to be more cognizant of how I’m lining up my activities.  He wants me to stretch my calf muscle on that right leg every day.

He promised that when I get back in there, we will start working on my jogging.

He gave me hope.

Then, he worked on the back of my leg again and actually got two tools out to get the knot out of my tendon.

Some things do NOT change.

I felt sad as I left, but I knew that it was a temporary goodbye.  I’ve already got my next appointment set for July 24th, and I’ll pick up where I left off.

Meanwhile, I started PT at home, following the exercise regimen that he gave me.  I’m supposed to do them at least three days a week, incorporating them into my workouts when it’s convenient or doing them separately if it’s not.

Did I mention the stretching, my favorite (not) exercise?

The rest of the week went okay.  I continued to have good and bad days.

I walked a little over three miles on Thursday.  My pace was a lot slower than the 5k I did the weekend before, but that was okay with me.

I always feel accomplished when I’ve moved my body . . .

I spent time watching the rain . . .

All Photos-468

I thanked the Lord for sending the sun . . .

I had a little buddy on Friday . . .

And a different book  . . .

I literally sat in the water the entire time I was at the pool (thanks, Megan, for the suggestion a few weeks ago) and let my ankle do its non-gravity thing, which made it feel better.  Call it an excuse.  My physical therapist chuckled when I told him my game plan.

The sun cooperated on Saturday . . .

I even managed to sneak in an hour of pool time on Sunday before the rain paid another visit . . .

I probably won’t post weekly updates until I return to therapy next month.  We’ve got a lot going on in the next two weeks; it’s going to be all I can do to fit in my PT exercises, and I’m not sure if I’m going to see a drastic improvement in that time (fingers crossed that I magically become pain-free because we know that miracles can and do happen).

Please continue to pray for healing.  This journey is still frustrating.  I am beyond ready to be normal.  I’d love to be able to teach class, come August, without pain.  Maybe that’s a little unrealistic, but one can always dream, eh?

National Selfie Day

Did you know that Wednesday was National Selfie Day?

Yeah, I didn’t either until I happened to switch the TV from the DVD to the cable mode after I worked out that morning.  The Today Show was on, and they were talking about how much time we spend taking selfies . . . seven minutes for each one!  It is estimated that we will spend over 200,000 hours over the course of our lives taking selfies.

Unbelievable, eh?

I’ll admit that I am as guilty as anyone else.

Hello Snapchat, which has the BEST filters, y’all!

Disney, anyone?

I am one cool cat.

I always match my ears with my workout clothes.

Weighing the pros and cons of doing anything productive during my break.

 

Of course, Instagram had to get in on the action.  Their filters are okay . . .

If you need me, I’ll be hibernating until August.

Queen – of Everything

When I’m not sleeping or working out, I’ll be driving . . . to the beach . . . if the sun will ever come out again.

So, what is this obsession with fish-lipped selfies?

I really don’t know except that they are fun, and they give people a glimpse into our whimsical selves.

They allow us to be silly without taking ourselves so seriously.

Life isn’t always pleasant, so indulging in a bit of fun, seven minutes at a time (cause you know you’ve got to delete fifteen photos before you get THE perfect shot), can be a much-needed pick-me-upper.

Selfie on!

Sunday Shopping

Last Sunday afternoon, the Mr. and I headed out to run a few errands.

One of the places I wanted to go was Best Buy.  Rooster had called me a couple of days before to tell me about a purchase he and his girl had made.  The pressure was on.

I wound up indulging my inner geek when I purchased this . . .

It’s the Apple Watch 2, which was on sale for $70 off.  What girl doesn’t like a sale?

The newest Apple Watch can be worn in the pool or beach!  That was the main reason why I had asked for my Garmin watch a couple of years ago.  I’ve loved it too!

But the Apple, y’all.  I have had an iPhone for years, and my laptop is a Macbook Pro, so I’m all about Apple stuff.  I bought the smaller size.

It didn’t take me long to find a watch face I liked . . .

All Photos-558

When you tap on the center of the clock face, Minnie tells you what time it is.  She’s adorable.

Now, I’m not going to lie, making the transition was a little overwhelming.  Although it immediately synced with my phone, I still had to figure out how to navigate, which buttons to push, etc.  I had to change a few things in my setup (I’m using Apple Health now, which integrates with MyFitnessPal).

The good news is that my Under Armour Record app works seamlessly with my watch.  When I start a workout on my phone, my watch automatically starts up, so I can look down and see my calories real time without pulling out my phone.

I was able to use it to track Monday’s physical therapy session.  I had been curious about how many calories I’d been burning during these sessions . . .

Apparently, I work hard.  Crazy, eh?

I also love that my watch tracks my heart rate.  That was the biggest drawback to my Garmin.  I didn’t have the HR model.

By the end of the first evening, I’d even learned how to set up the watch as my alarm clock.

One less-than-ideal thing is the battery life.  It’s something like 18 hours, so it needs to be charged each night.  My Garmin lasted for ten days without a charge, unless I was using it to track runs.

I still have a ton to learn, but I can honestly say that I’m in love with this device.  I can use Siri on it (and actually did while I was getting directions, and it even connected automatically to my car and started talking through those speakers while I was driving to a new place).

Happy Summer to me!

After we finished at Best Buy, we headed to Kohl’s.  The Mr. had some Kohl’s cash that had to be used that day.

I had not been feeling well, so the plan was to run in, quickly pick out something, and leave.

I wound up trying on a few tops that had not been on sale the week before.  I really liked the tank top in the picture below.  It made me think of my Rooster boy.

I loved the next top.  It’s a sweater material and wine colored.  It is so soft.

By the way, I have no idea why I felt the need to flex my muscles in both pictures.  I guess the weight training I’ve been doing each day has gone to my head.  Ha!

I liked the next top as well.  Blue is one of my favorite colors, and the Mr. thought this top would pair nicely with a pair of flowered shorts he had picked out for me (I didn’t pose with those though).

After all of that shopping, I had to go home and take a nap.  Who knew that spending money could be so exhausting!!

Shelling Out Answers to Hodgepodge Questions

Joyce cooked up some fun summer-themed questions for the Hodgepodge this week.  If you want to play along, answer on your blog and link back up with her.  Thanks for visiting!

1.  The first day of summer rolls in later this week. What are ten things you’d put on your list of quintessential summer activities? Will you try to manage all ten this summer?

Oh summer, how I love thee!  Let me count the ways.

  1. Reading . . . so much of it.  I just finished this bonus novella after someone on Facebook told me about it.  It follows up on one of the characters from the book, Wonder.  I will admit that I did not like the novella nearly as much as the first book, but that could be because I’m used to books geared for high school students.  This one felt very juvenile in nature.  I did enjoy Wonder though.
  2. Sunbathing
  3. Baking
  4. Napping – Every day
  5. Cleaning – Staying caught up for a change
  6. Knitting
  7. Pup-Loving
  8. Shopping
  9. Selfie-Taking
  10. Exercising

2.  Do you collect seashells when you’re at the beach? What do you do with them once you get them home? What’s your favorite place to comb for seashells? How many of these ‘best beaches for hunting seashells’ have you visited? Which one would you most like to visit?

Calvert Cliffs State Park (Maryland), Jeffrey’s Bay (South Africa), Sanibel Island (Florida), Shipwreck Beach (Lanai Hawaii), Ocracoke Island (North Carolina), Galveston Island (Texas) and The Bahamas

I live very close to the beach, but I do not collect sea shells.  Weird, huh?  I’ve only visited the Bahamas.  I’d love to go to Hawaii though!  With Rooster and his wife living out on the West Coast, it would be so easy to combine a trip to Hawaii with a meetup with my kiddos.

3.  At a snail’s pace, shell out money, come out of your shell, go back into your shell, drop a bombshell, happy as a clam, clam up...which ‘shell’ phrase could most recently be applied to some event or circumstance in your life? Explain.

At a snail’s pace would fit my ankle recovery.  This past weekend, I was reminded of how slow the process is.  My physical therapist and I discussed some of the issues I’m having, and he reiterated that time needs to do its thing.  It’s a long, slowwwwwwwww thing that frustrates me to no end.

4.  What summer activity do you dislike? Why?

Although yard work can be extremely gratifying, it’s so physically draining that I can’t say I enjoy it as much as I used to.  Plus, it’s time consuming.  I’d much rather be sitting by the pool.

5.  What’s something you see as quickly becoming obsolete? Does that bother you?

I had a really hard time coming up with an answer for this question.  I guess I can answer lamely by saying that DVD players are becoming obsolete.  With the onslaught of streaming services, the need for DVD players is dwindling.  We used to have a large DVD collection; however, the Mr. got rid of most of our movies the week I had my ankle surgery and was off my feet.  He was cleaning up for Christmas and purged.  I was not happy, but he kept telling me that I could find most of the movies online.  Still, I love having these things on hand.  So yeah, it bothers me.  As much as I love technology, I am sometimes still set in my ways.

6.  My Random Thought

I started a new P31 Online Bible Study last week.  This summer, we are reading through the book, Me, Myself, and Lies.  It’s all about combating the lies we speak to ourselves.

We’re up to Chapter 4 and man, it’s as though Jennifer Rothschild has been inside my brain all my life.  I’m trying very hard to process everything; there are so many things I need to re-think.  I love that much of what’s in the book is stuff that I can use in my classroom.  Teenagers are so hard on themselves.  They are very unforgiving and internalize everything.

It’s not too late to jump in on the study if you’re interested!

%d bloggers like this: