Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Meanwhile, back at the cottage , , , ,

I’ve been so wrapped up in recounting our four glorious days in Chicago that I’ve overlooked posting about the doings at home….and there are doings to report.

In a development really exciting to me, I was measured for an ankle brace. I will get out of the dreaded boot, though I’m not sure the brace will be a lot better. It too will come up almost to my knee, and I must wear a shoe at all times. So that means in the night I will have to put on the brace and the shoe if I want to use the restroom. Also I don’t know how it will fit with pants. But it is a step forward. I will have to get a larger shoe to accommodate the brace.

I admit I have not been good about the exercises the physical therapist gave me, and I’ve been maybe halfway good about walking with the walker instead of scooting around on it. I saw clear evidence this weekend that I’ve lost strength and probably muscle mass, and I must make myself work on that.

Much as I loved the Chicago trip, I was glad to get home to my cottage. It has passed its occupancy inspection and is officially good to go. One thing that means is that I can cook. Last night, with Jordan doing most of the work, we sautéed a loin lamb chop, and I ate applesauce. Tonight I scrambled a couple of eggs, using my New Wave induction burner—piece of cake, and they were good. They cooked quickly but I got them at the soft stage, which is where I like them. Now I’m anxious to cook and will start exploring recipes and ideas. Next week, when Jordan and Christian unpack their belongings, I expect to get the fancy toaster-oven that Megan brought me. When they remodeled their kitchen, that was all they had to cook with. It’s lovely to get the least little bit of feeling for cooking again.

Sophie is apparently glad to have me at home. Greg said when he’d come up here to check on her, she was all droopy and depressed. He’d take her outside and instead of jumping and running as she usually does, she’d plod along. He kept telling her, “It’ll be all right. She’ll come back.” According to him, there’s no question about whose dog she is. I’m not sure I’ve ever had that strong a relationship with a dog before, and I love it.

It’s good to be back home, viewing the world from my cottage, once more involved in my various writing chores, and always savoring the memories of one of the most significant trips I’ve taken. It ranks right up there with ten days in Scotland.

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