Recovery

I am up.  I am mobile!  I am craving dill pickles!

The last, I think, is because I spent most of the past week going from fever to chills via copious sweating and I may be salt depleted.  Anyhow, a crunchy, juicy, tart pickle is just what I want right now.  We have a big jar of what we call, "Green Lurkers" because the brine is sort of cloudy and you're never sure how many pickles are left.  They sort of lurk in the gloom at the back of the fridge.  They are damn fine pickles, though, with enough garlic to fry any bacterium or virus.  YUM!  I may even have two.

The weather in this part of Oregon has been halcyon - sunshine, light breezes, shirtsleeves temps.  It aids the recuperation quite a lot when the invalid can sit outside in the fresh air and hear the small birds making melody.  (Spell check won't let me spell like Chaucer.  I just might disable spell check.  What's this world coming to if you can't spell like Chaucer when you want to?)

Kyle has mown the front and back yards, and deserves praise and cold beers. I am caught up on the laundry and deserve another bottle of Gatorade (I'm so dehydrated that I'm dizzy half the time.)  We took a walk around the block yesterday.  He is SO kind and patient with me.  I have to get back in shape for all those Volkswalks coming up this summer.  I was up to 10 K.  My left foot is still a bit gimpy from my fall on the stairs, but getting better all the time.











I cancelled knitting this month because I just don't have enough starch to pull it together. Besides, I didn't want to share the kennel cough with anyone else.  But next month . . . Oh, I have ideas!

Cheryl of Acorn to Oak had a contest which I won, and the prize was a pair of wonderful hand-knit cotton washcloths.  Who doesn't love these?













But before I could use them, Bucky claimed them as his.  He says they are his "sheeping bag." Groan - even my puppet makes puns.