time to buckle up
by Bella Rum
It’s been rainy and cold here this week, that raw kind of cold that penetrates the bones and leaves you shivering and chattering. Outside activity is impossible. I’ve had no exercise for a very long time. It’s time to start that process, slow though it may be.
I had lab work yesterday and we arrived about fifteen minutes before the lab opened. We gained entrance to the building and a very long and maze-like hallway presented it. We were the only people there. I walked back and forth at a fairly brisk rate for ten minutes. It was perfect. I plan to dust off my walking DVD today and see where it leads.
The frigid rain turned to freezing rain and eventually to snow overnight. The world is soft and white and almost soundless this morning. I never tire of the beauty of it, but of course we don’t get this often enough to become hardened to its charm. I wait for it like the children do. I long for it and anticipate it and it’s new every time. Now that I think about it, few things have retained the same innocent wonder for me as waking to the delight of a fresh snow.
A fragment of a memory is playing at the edges of my mind this morning. I’m about four or five. My mother and I are standing at the front door. I’m waiting impatiently as she bends over me to buckle the belt on my coat – my brother’s olive-drab, hand-me-down coat. The bigger kids are already out there playing in the snow without me. Fidgeting impatiently, I only want to get outside. She only wants to make sure I’m buckled up and hatted and scarved and gloved. Mother’s always wanting to protect and children always wanting to fly free, our respective jobs are inherently opposite in nature.
Yet, during recent weeks, I must admit that I found myself acknowledging the need – accepting and even desiring – for someone else to buckle my belt, make sure I was scarved and hatted and gloved in the world. It’s a childlike response and only temporary, but it was necessary and even comforting to comply with those who would take up the task for a while. These feelings are fleeting, thankfully, for as soon as our two feet are once again on the ground the spirit tells us to buckle our own belts.
Here’s to a day filled with a little snow-gazing through the window, a little exercise and some high-fiber food. One needs high-fiber foods and exercise after prolonged inactivity. That right there is more than the Internet needs or wants to know about my constitution.
Here’s a high-fiber recipe for Hoppin John over at Sidewalk Shoes.
Prune juice–hate the taste–hold my nose to drink it–but it works. When I can’t get outside, I walk up and down the length of my house–back and forth–400 steps. Not fun, but–it is 17 degrees here–nose hair freezing day.
Hi, Judy,
It’s hard to believe, but I’ve eaten stewed prunes, dried prunes and prune juice everyday. I’ve also eaten oat bran muffins, which always work. I’ve taken a few different across-the-counter remedies, and I’ve eaten a big bowl of All Bran for the past couple of days. None of my tricks are working… not even M of M… so far.
LOL Can’t believe I’m writing this, but you know what I’m full of.
Water! Drink lots and lots of water. You’re inside, in a dry environment – if you’re at all dehydrated, the body claims water from any source it can find. Voila! Lookie here what it found in the nether regions! If you rehydrate, things often start working as they should.
Make sure to drink lots of water with all that!
Enjoyed your post….I feel the same way about snow, and am still waiting for some to appear.
westcoastauntie,
Oh, yes! Lots of water. I hope you get some snow.
Oh! I should read all the comments before I get all enthusiastic with my advice. Good to see the water-drinking on the agenda, too.
How I remember that routine when I was in grade school! Layers and layers. That was only slightly a joke, what they showed in “A Christmas Story” with Ralphie’s little brother bundled up in his winter togs. Remember the long string with clips on each end that ran through your coat and kept your mittens in the neighborhood? One of the smells I always can conjure up is wet wool on school radiators – mittens caked with snow and left there to dry.
Hmmmm… if I keep blogging as I age, who knows? I may change the name of my blog to “The Prune Juice Chronicles”! Good gosh – there’s a thought. Geriatric bloggers. Is the world ready?
After I had my hip surgery I ended up having to send Mike out for a suppository. And that’s all I have to say about that!
I love the idea of someone taking care of me. And frankly, I’ve had that for most of our marriage. It’s only recently that I’ve been forced to actually fend for myself somewhat (and, as a by product, take care of him!).
Oh, & I love snow! Now that I know how to drive in it I don’t even mind that in Ohio you still have to go to work. Don’t like ice though!
I love how quiet the world is after a snow. We get so little here, I always forget about it until it happens, then wonder at it.
That post was so evocative…the comfort of snow, the thrill of snow as a child and the desire, when really sick, to allow others to run the show for you.
I’ve been worried about you and I’m glad to know that you’re moving on to the more mundane worries of recovery, like BM’s.