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Yesterday was one of those strange days when nothing spectacular happens and yet a whole lot of stuff gets accomplished. You know what I mean. Without really planning it, you get the whole house cleaned (that’ll be the day!). You really do call the dentist, the eye doctor, the carpet cleaner, and that guy who’s been leaving business cards for Tree Service and Landscaping—Senior Discounts. You finish the short story, the novel, the epic poem.

One of those days.

Yesterday was that kind. I drove to the market by myself, my first foray behind the wheel and out in traffic since I broke my leg in July. I took a chance and got down on hands and knees (with a little help from my handy garden kneeler) to pull some weeds that have become rather smug about grabbing my veggie plot while I was disabled. I’m walking now without wheelchair, without walker, even without a cane. I wobble a lot, but I manage to stay on my feet.

I finished the short story in tine for critique group next Saturday.

I can’t say that I’m completely pleased with the ending. Why is it that the first few thousand words seem to jump onto the page when I’m not even paying attention, and then it comes time to wrap it up and I can’t put three words together? It’s kind of like the walking thing: I hold onto the fear until it’s more trouble than it’s worth to delay any longer, and once I let go, I find that I really should have done this ages ago!

It’s pretty easy to look ahead from here. Even without my help, my narcissus bulbs have erupted again, promising blossoms by Christmas. Now that I know I can safely work in the garden I can start planning where to put the cabbage plants and the perfect spot for sweet peas. In California, there’s still time to make it all happen.

I’ll post some really terrific blogs, or at least some mediocre ones. There’s another short story to write, I’m sure. Well, I’m pretty sure. Our prompt group on Saturday will no doubt give me some good strong ideas for a starting point, and with any luck another one of those marvelous, strange days will come along when I need a first-class ending.

In the meantime, I’ll wobble along. Hubby won’t have to be beside me all the time because I need his strong arm, but just because we like being together. I’ll cook up some nice beef stew instead of a pre-packaged, pre-frozen pizza soggy from the microwave. The bed will get made on a regular basis. Life, as we like it, is ready to  resume.

I’ll see you again, after the commercial.

 

 

 

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