So out of shape!

A couple of weeks ago, when a broken pipe caused a change of venue for a luncheon, I arrived almost tardy and had to park in the upper lot. The walk down was fine. My estimate of the upward climb, primarily stairs, is that it must be the equivalent of four or five stories.

Next day, and for several thereafter, every bone -- well, that would be muscle, I guess -- hurt with every movement.

After yesterday's little hike up to Big Whiskey from parking at the bottom of the hill, I'm back in the same boat. Every inch of me hurts.

Instead of declaring to my sister and sister-in-law that I gotta get in shape, that I need to start walking, blah, blah, blah (and then I only walk to meals on my five-days twice-a-year at quilt camp), if I declare here that I am going to walk, or ride the stationary bike, will you hold me accountable?

Will I hold myself accountable?

I have one other question for you. Does your cat talk to you?



Objects in mirror are closer than they appear


See you tomorrow.

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