As school winds down, my grandkids check in. These are my Tomball children with their mom, Lisa (Colin's family). So proud of them. They are fortunate to go to a school in Tomball where their mom teaches 7th grade math. Morgan will be 12 over the summer and going into—oops, I’m not sure. Sixth grade, I think but maybe seventh. Kegan is ten, and going into fifth grade. Didn’t hear a report on Morgan’s grades, but Kegan made straight As and Es—I assume the latter is a behavior grade.
He’s my long-haired grandson. When I was in the rehab facility, he came to visit, and a nurse asked, “Is that your granddaughter?” (In addition to the long hair, he is slightly built and has fine, almost delicate features). I replied proudly that he is my grandson. Colin later said Kegan is used to that misidentification. He is a dedicated and talented soccer player and wanted to grow his hair out so he could have a man-bun, like the European soccer players.
Morgan hasn’t shown such dedicated interests, as far as I know, but she is great in the kitchen and apparently likes to cook. She’s a neat mix of half tomboy and half girlie-girlie. I’ll find out more about both kids this weekend, because that family will come up for Maddie’s graduation and take me to Frisco. I haven’t seen the Tomball Alters in quite some time, so I’m really excited about their visit.
I had my last physical therapy session today. Walked around the cottage—I can make a circle from my desk, down the hall to the bedroom, over to the kitchen, and back to my desk--it's not very far. I held on to the therapist’s hand, and she insisted on the cane. I can walk almost normally with the walker; without it my legs are stiff and awkward as though I had some muscular condition. Really frustrating, but I guess the only thing to do is keep at it. The therapist bragged on the progress I’ve made since she first saw me, and when I suggested it was due to her, she said, “It’s yours. Own it.” We had a sort of sentimental parting—the kind where neither of us were going to show how touched we were. Why do we do that to ourselves?
It's been a social week so far and promises to continue that way—lunch today with a longtime friend I don’t see often. We went to a restaurant on Magnolia, and I had lobster bites. Which meant I thought I shouldn’t have lobster sushi roll tonight at the Tokyo Café. Betty and I went. It has long been a favorite of ours, and we missed it when fire closed it. I have only been once since they re-opened, now several months ago, so it was good to be back. Food and service are always good, but the main dining area is high-ceilinged with lots of slick surfaces—hard to hear.
A good day but nothing spectacular to report. I’m working myself up to a blog on how I feel about all the people who saw 45 has irreparably damaged the country. Meantime, busy days and a family weekend are on my horizon. I’m filled with anticipation.
PS. Just after I wrote the above, Jordan, Christian, and three friends descended on me, with four dogs--Sophie, the two Cavaliers, and a 12-week golden retriever puppy. Sophie gets so excited she tears around the cottage frantically, and she and the pup barked and barked at each other. The pup kept barking at the Cavaliers, but as Jordan said, "They don't play." It was delightful pandemonium and brightened my evening.