I Might Have Overdone It

You might say I got carried away with snowshoeing this week.  See, last winter we didn't have much snow and I was terrified I was going to reinjure my ankle so I probably wouldn't have gone anyway.  Plus I was putting on weight like it was an Olympic event and earning a gold medal at worrying about Durwood so, no, last year wasn't a snowshoeing year.  At all.  This year, this week to be precise, is made for snowshoeing, at least in my books.  We got 6" of perfect snow on Saturday, not too wet, not too dry, not too much so when I ventured out into the backyard on Sunday for a practice tromp conditions were perfect.  I wasn't overdressed, I didn't fall down or even lose my balance, and having lost over 20# and been doing daily yoga for months I felt like Wonder Woman.  Maybe the Snow Queen.  Anyway, I got drunk with being able to snowshoe.  The weather cooperated too.  Monday it wasn't sunny and I thought maybe a day off would do my ankle good because it was a little achy Sunday night.  Yesterday, however, I threw caution to the winds and went out twice but stayed in the neighborhood.  I did wear a little ankle support though.

Today all bets were off.  I had to zoom to Aldi to nab some drumsticks for 69 cents a pound, available today only, so I tossed my snowshoes into the van along with one pole, put on the boots that clamp into the snowshoes well, and parked at Colburn Park pool (2 blocks from home).  I semi-bundled up (you can't wear too many warm clothes because then you sweat too much with the exertion and get a chill) and took off along the trail heading toward the tennis courts across the park, maybe half a mile.  I was a good snowshoe-er and stepped over the cross-country ski tracks I came to instead of tromping over them and ruining them, and mostly I paralleled them figuring they'd pick a decent way to go.  I even stopped on a bench near the tennis courts to download the geocaching app so I could have a purpose and not get too tired.  I got to within 7 feet of the cache but didn't find it.  I did see this tree with a perfect hiding place but thought maybe it's too obvious.  I don't have a lot of luck finding caches.  I wish I had someone to go with me, more eyes would probably be a good thing.  Sooner than I think LC and OJ will be old enough to go with me.  Isn't that a sobering thought?

Anyway once I got home I realized that I'd probably overdone it in my enthusiasm and called the chiropractor for an appointment tomorrow morning.  She can rearrange my ankle bones when I goof them up so it doesn't ache so much.  *sigh*  I know I'm 66 and am no spring chicken but I want to do fun things and not be limited by the parts of me I've spent a lifetime abusing.  Perhaps a little moderation is in order.  But I am eternally grateful that JJ lent me his snowshoes years ago so I could try the sport and then Mrs. & Mr. Boss gave me $100 for Christmas that year which I took directly to Play It Again Sports and bought my own pair.  I do love it and was an object of admiration on Monday when I said at lunch with my 8th grade classmates that I'd spent the day before out in the sunshine on snowshoes and planned to go more.  Evidently I'm supposed to be sitting around... nah, not gonna do it.

 


This evening I made the thumb on the first of LC's wool mittens.  I should have cast on the second one right away but decided to cast on February Preemie Hat #3 using a different pattern in a smaller size and got the thing all done in just over an hour.  It seems unthinkable that this hat would fit a live baby but it will and even more unthinkable is the fact that it'll be too big for some of them.

February 7--Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Girls Picking Flowers in a Meadow.  The fruit trees were in bloom.  The lilacs were blooming too.  Bees flew drunkenly from flower to flower, the pollen sacs on their back legs trailing golden dust as they flew.  Marie wished a breeze would come to sweep away some of the overpowering fragrance than hung so heavy in the air.  Her basket was full of lilacs, their purple flowers lay as if exhausted by their own exuberance.  She cut some apple branches, thin supple ones, to pin around her straw hat like a band to wear to church tomorrow.

And that, my dears, is that, the end of my whining and complaining and bragging for the day.  It's past time for me to tuck myself in.  Nighty-night.
--Barbara