No, I’m not talking about the lock down. Here in Rhode Island businesses will be allowed to open–sort of–tomorrow. Golfers can use carts. We have to wear masks. Restaurants will open, but only at 25% capacity. It’s a start.
But one month from today we will be at the lake. I will spend Monday, June 8, gazing at the mountains and the bay and the beautiful world I’ve missed so much.
It will be heaven.
But today? Not so much. I started physical therapy with a new therapist this week. Today will be visit #2. Otherwise known as “torture”. But because I want to be able to run up and down the hill to the beach with my grandson, I am willing and ready to endure things like “cupping” (something to do with suction cups and a bit unpleasant) and “dry needling” (like acupuncture but with bigger needles and real pain).
This new therapist has a different theory as to what is happening in my hip and leg and for now I am willing to endure her experiments. I really, really want to walk and sleep without pain–who doesn’t?–so I will stick on a mask, pretend to be cheerful, and endure the treatments.
Wish me luck.
In the kitchen: As rumors of a pork shortage (say it isn’t so!!) hit the news this week, Banjo Man donned a mask and ventured into Walmart for the the first time in months. I begged him to buy a pork tenderloin for me, one of my favorites either grilled or slow-cooked, but always with a balsamic sauce.
We had it for dinner last night. For the first time in a year, I went back for seconds.
It’s time to unpack the summer clothes, not that I have many. Maybe next week I can limp into Marshall’s, don my mask, obey social distancing and score some summer tops and shorts for life on the lake. Oh, does that sound like fun!
Summer is coming, people!
Time to come out of our caves and enjoy the world again.