I was never a cheerleader. I would have said, “Jus’ sec’,” after the captain yelled, “Ready?”
That, and the fact that I can dance, but I struggle with choreography. I took Beginning Jazz Dance at 7:30, my sophomore year of college. I got a good grade based on attendance. The tiny instructor watched me dance and screwed up her face and after a second’s pause, shrugged and moved on. All the steps were there, it just didn’t… Len Goodman would call it “not a bit of musicality, whatevah.”
Join me at the Cowboy Bar, Len. I’m calling you out.
Who am I kidding? I haven’t been in the Cowboy Bar in 22 years. I’d prolly be scared to death. What with all the children playing those games.
I think I’m coming out of the fog. The pain, exhaustion, and stress. In addition to an anti-inflammatory and physical therapy, one of the fantastic little pills I got from the doctor is “non-habit forming”. And sleep, I have. Every night for a week.
Without getting ahead of myself, I am starting to take an interest again.
A week ago, I couldn’t make a list. People know I’m not myself when I can’t make a list. Not a “To-Do”, not a grocery, not a “desperatelneededchorelistforthesekidswhothinkthisisacruiseship” list. Even if I can’t follow it, I do derive an unnatural amount of pleasure from making it.
Yesterday, I made two lists- financial tasks and chores .
Today, I’ve already been stalking Pinterest for blogging tips. Since BlogHer, there are
millions hundreds a lot of “how to have a better blog” posts. I am planning on using several them to create a plan of attack. For me, that means another list.
Yesterday, the doctor’s office called and said, “Keep taking that vitamin D. Do you want to go ahead with the anti-depressants?” I asked them to give me until my follow-up appointment to decide. I guess this means I have to start doing all the things that keep people from feeling depressed when life is good.
I’ve been putting it off since 7th grade.
It’s not the remembering, it’s the stopping what I’m doing when I do remember.
Eliminating cane sugar. Altogether. It works.
With husband and kids in the house.
Already underway. We went to “half-caff”Thursday last week. And I’m drinking fewer cups.
Perhaps, I have come full circle in that the “sleep” med is in the anti-depressant class, but no longer prescribed for that because there are so many other more exciting anti-depressants, now. I’m cutting them in half*.
It’s the same one I took 22 years ago.
I asked for relief and I got it.
Now, it’s time to get back in the game.
“I think so!”
*still sleeping and a little pissed that she’d prescribe something in that class when we agreed to wait. At the first sign of inability to feel the funny, I’m out.