After my last massage therapy appointment for my foot (which, by the way, holy shit, yes. My foot is so awesome now) I scheduled myself another appointment for a ... you know, not just my foot kind of massage. The whole kit and caboodle. Top to bottom, soup to nuts.
I set that up for Wednesday but due to work chaos rescheduled it to this morning. Knowing Doug was out of town, Geoff at work, hey. Do something nice for yourself, idiot.
I forgot to set an alarm, the way you do when it is Saturday. Geoff left for work at 8-ish, and I heard him feed the dog and let her out. She got back into bed with me and we both went back to big sleep land.
I woke up at 9:50, just enough time to stumble around and do the 9am steps, stop and take my blood sugar, and do 10am steps. And then I remembered I had scheduled this 11:30am appointment. Doh. Shower. Ready. Dog in kennel, leave house at 11:10 because parking is stupid downtown. Made it to the appointment with 10 min. to spare.
Early, the way you like it. The way I like it. The way it should be.
My brand new massage therapist is Lawrence, he's a very tall, fit, athletic, black man. When I reached out to this group, recommended to me by a co-worker, I thought I'd be placed with someone else, but Lawrence was interested in how I had described the problem with my foot.
"You don't have plantar fasciitis," he told me last week. "You just have two knotted spots, one in your foot, one in your calf, and I'll relieve them both."
And he sure did.
So I had scheduled this knowing that OMG work, and OMG life, and ... treat yourself. I miss my massage therapist from Massachusetts. In fact, I sent her an email after I got home to tell her that it had been basically 4 years since I'd seen a massage therapist, and I missed her. She retired, and when I was in town a couple years ago she cleared her schedule to see me.
I love her.
So Lawrence worked magic on my foot, and I felt like okay. Let's do more.
Today was a 1 hour of Swedish deep tissue massage. I showed him my bruise and he said he'd avoid the area, and we talked about my hands and the Duputryen's Contracture, he said he had a couple patients with that, and said if I was going to have surgery for it, about 6 months later massage therapy is a great thing to do, to keep things limber.
It was so nice to spend this hour just .... not doing. Not thinking. At one point he asked me how I was doing.
"I have to remember to breathe," I replied.
"Are you forgetting to breathe?" He asked.
"No, I just kind of find myself so relaxed, not like I'm asleep, but I should breathe in deeper? Maybe?" He laughed a little and said, that's a good thing to do. Remember to breathe.
He is not a talkative person. My old massage therapist in Massachusetts, Sue, and I would talk the whole time through my massages about everything from pets to plants to gardens to God. Lawrence doesn't say much. So it was very quiet through the whole appointment.
After the massage and out to the car, I checked texts. My neighbor had texted me to ask if she could bring the puppy over to get her some energy out. Of course! Yes! Bring her down.
We sat and talked, just the two of us. She's in her early 40s, and mostly what we talked about was music and musicians. I had put on a Guster playlist and she asked who it was because it sounded familiar. She said she was at NYC summer stage around maybe 2011, she wasn't sure. But she remembered the "lead guy" putting a hat on that looked like a disco ball and twirling around with lights shining on it.
"Yeah. That sounds on brand for Ryan Miller."
I told her about our Summerstage experience when it rained like a mofo for 5 minutes and the concert was canceled, how Ginger's flight from Florida landed in VA and they were put on a bus to do the rest of the trip up and it was an epic shit show.... but somehow, we all had so much fun. Ginger & her son, Linda, Jess & Liz, Sara & Sean, and our friend Spicy V had a waterproof poster tube and saved all of our posters from destruction. Joe and Debs were there, we had pizza after ... while completely soaking wet. My hotel room became the ground zero for all the wet humans.
It was truly a weekend to remember.
Meg and Toffee played but also just hung out - not doing too much. Maybe too hot? Meg seemed a little scared of Toffee today, and we tried to get them to engage and play tug of war with the ripped up fox but Meg preferred hiding.
The goal was to tire Meg out, but Toffee did the bulk of the work and zonked out cold when we got inside. I hope Meg got some of her puppy energy out. She has to be in the kennel for a while tonight while mom and dad go to a party. I offered for her to just stay with us until they got home but I don't think they're ready for that.
I sat out on the patio for quite a while and came in to make dinner for me and Geoff. He got home around 6, and everything was ready for us to chow down.
Jess called around 8pm. We talked for hours. I miss them a lot sometimes and they were in a very talkative place. We had a lot of fun. Catching up on all the haps. Jess is going to be house sitting for one of my colleagues for a MONTH (whaaaaat?) and I didn't know it. I guess I recommended them to the coworker through our pets channel. So. That's kind of exciting. Closer Jess.
Anyway. I looked at my fitbit and it was at 9200 steps so I said "Oh come on. You can get to 10k before bed" and we did. The dog ran around the house chasing me. And we were done before 11:30.
That's a big full day, friends.
Pictured here is me post massage therapy. I always feel like someone beat me up, or as mom used to say "you look like who did it and ran." yup. Digits below.
digits
exercise: 12/12 hours. Inside walk, 29 minutes. I swear it was longer by at least 2 min. but OK, fitbit. 10k+ steps by bedtime
blood glucose:
10am: 163
5:30pm: 131
11:30pm: 154
food:
coffee/water
11am: Metformin
1:15pm: grilled ham & muenster on 647 multi grain
white wine (approx 3pm day drinking start)
6pm: white rice+chicken tikka masala (microwave meal from Target); metformin+jardiance
some more wine.
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