I love hearing from everyone on a regular basis, but I'm going to be moving like Uncle Joe at Petticoat Junction again, real soon. As in kinda slow. Physical therapy always tires me out, and it's been prescribed three times a week until my arm gets better. Surgery is the last resort. Seems there is "very little tissue to work with," so I opted for steroid and pain med injections, along with physical therapy sessions first.
Now, please, be forewarned. I am supposed to start therapy asap. I want my shoulder and arm working again--pain-free and easy--like they did before the fall down those stairs. I want to stand at my easel and draw again. I want to pump my arms when I am on the treadmill. I want to write without ice packs, pain pills, and muscle relaxers. I want to run like it's recess, too, but we know it ain't happening. I can dream, and I can try for what's heppenable. And getting my shoulder and arm back is doable and happenable. Dreaming of running like I did when I was a kid and it was recess is good enough for me.
Please feel free to remind me of my preamble if I start to whine or wuss out after the first 5 or 6 PT sessions. The first two weeks are always the most difficult for me. I promise not to get mad or pout if you do.
I have a dwindling stack of letters to answer, and I will. I promise. And I keep my word. Do not feel obliged to write if you get more than one letter from me though. On occasion, I break a single letter into several responses. That means you don't have to reply to 3 if you get three. You don't have to write to me unless you genuinely feel like it. Seriously. A lovely writer wrote that he didn't have anything to say after a couple of paragraphs, so he was closing his letter. I felt/feel so bad for that. And I apologize for all the boring mail I might have written. I am not in training for the Iditarod or the Iron Man thingy; and Tour de France started without me. So, from now on, I won't write unless I have something worth writing about. :) I promise. No more dull Limner Mail!
I'll be able to share more photos of Katy, Houston, Galveston, and goodness only knows where/what else, once my shoulder/arm is back in shooting fettle. I blame boring letter-writing on not being able to use my tripod or drive very far. For real. There's more to Katy than the inside of my home. You all are so very kind, polite and generous. I appreciate your tolerance and your social grace. Thank you.