(Today's luncheon beets before roasting)
Margot has adorably bound her hair into a bun using a red plastic sword as anchor. No wonder I love this woman.
I had PT this morning with Eddie and Margot an observor. Because the room is rearranged for cohabitation, I did not have the black shelves as my usual handhold, so I was forced to get sitting upright in a different manner. To my pleasure, I managed it. Despite waves of deep vertigo and pain, I sat up for 12 minutes while Eddie walked me through resistance challenges to my core. Scout was in avid attendance, and Margot's face was luminous.
When it was time for me to go back down, I did so as smoothly as an able-bodied person, with that kind of fluidity and control -- my legs did exactly what I asked of them. A first. We all burst forth spontaneously into a cheer when this happened. and Scout streaked away into the other room.
I have been pushing water and rebuilding stamina since; I was left my usual depleted and shaky self. But with M here calling me a hero. After Eddie left, I wept on her shoulder. This is as hard an effort as humans face, my beloveds. And incrementally slow progress. Yet it is progress.
Yesterday M massaged my shoulders and somehow eradicated the pain in both: A miracle, as far as I am concerned. The rotator cuff problem in the left has this morning resurfaced, but my right is still fluid and unhurting. She has also renovated my feet entirely.
Dinner last night was spectacular: Massive portobellos stuffed with shallots, garlic butter, provolone, ricotta, and panko; a Romaine salad with paper-thin slices of fresh radish, grape red and yellow tomatoes, toasted pecans, and peppery hot radish sprouts; and for me a roux to into which leftover roast beef had been shredded. Lunch today is imminent: roasted golden and pink-striped baby beets with roasted potatoes, shallots, carrots and garlic; mustard greens; and more of the leftover roux. Plus for M the last of the homemade whole-grain mac-n-cheese I made for the day of her arrival.
Scout is blissed out by getting to sleep with the both of us, moving from one to the other during the night. Dinah is also a frequent presence, allowing M the kind of mush and contact nobody else dares impose on her cranky self. For those who wondered, the "Dinah-charming" song is Dinah won't you blow followed by Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah -- she knows it is about her and melts as much as she ever does when I croon it to her.
Scout does not as yet have a song. Are there any songs out there with scout in the lyrics?