I’ll take this backward. I went to town to sign and retrieve my tax return. I picked up the armload of mail on the way home. I defied the weather when I left, in a sweater. Go ahead! Rain! Get colder! See if I care. It actually was snowing as I came up the steps, three or four hours later.
My phone rang. I could reach it, and did, fingers dropping a bill while fumbling for the house key. It was my drug insurer, and my opiod paid med denial is reversed. This is day fourteen of tooth sucking, bird flipping pain. I do wish an autoimmune disease on every person involved in the opiod crisis they made. Plus degenerative arthritis. It could bring about the resolution, that’s for sure.
Let me run with that one. A semi-automatic loosed on the halls of congress could bring about a solution to the excess of guns crisis. The best solution, though, is voters loosed on the halls of congress. Check your representative’s bank account.
I have three, two senators and a representative (from a blatantly gerrymandered district). Two have taken no money from the NRA. Nada. Zero. Zip. One is awash in a cool hundred plus grand. In the same order, two are Democrats, one a Republican. Listen to what your representatives have to say, and vote accordingly. In November, vote.
Today was gym, with Greg. He’s thirtyish, and vaguely recalls, from week to week, that I’m probably in pain. I generally don’t mention it, unless there is something I cannot do. The final routine today was a new stretch. Visualize: on my back. Left foot flat on the floor. Right ankle on left leg. Both hands around left thigh, fingers interlocked behind. Pull left leg to chest.
My fingers do not interlock, they barely meet. I can pull back my leg and suppress the moan of pain. I am pleased. We switch to same action, right leg. This is the totally trashed leg, but I’m game. Fingers do not interlock, they do not even meet.
“That’s OK,” Greg says. I can help. A firm hand on my knee sent my leg chest ward. Half the gym must have looked to see who yelled. I sat straight up. “Guess we’ll rack up that one,” says Greg. “Yea, I’m burned out!”
I’m becoming fluent in gym lingo. I can apply it. We are burned out with Congress. Time to rack up senators and representatives who won’t tackle the gun horror in our midst. Vote in November, and November and November. Never overlook voting. This is your country. Voting is your duty, as well as your right.
The kid gym; moms can leave kids here. I am impressed with tykes zipping around the room.