This is my last day of home convalescence. While I'm still a bit wobbly, it's time to reopen the shop and build up my strength with purpose. I've been something of a slug these past two weeks, making at least one daily gesture toward exercising which isn't really enough. My Savior was Peggy, my Physical Therapist who made me cry (in the beginning) with her relentless insistence that I gain flexion in my knee.
The exercise video mailed to me pre-operation didn't have any of these tortuous flexing execises. Peggy didn't really care if I could stand on my toes: more important to flex at 105 degrees.
So, thank you Peggy. Thanks for that ugly/beautiful hot pink mohair jacket you wore that made me smile when I felt like crap. Thanks for being a lapsed Triathelete. Thanks for being from a giant family in Minnesota with community values. Thanks for loving wine maybe more than I do. Also, thanks for the wine! Thanks for telling me you're getting married in February, so I can make you a beautiful bouquet, and for all the great stories you told me while shoving my knee just a little further back.
Tomorrow, FLOWERS. All fresh and beautiful. And for Peggy, I'm guessing pink might be your color.