First, please know that the breast lump my doctor found last month was nothing more than a fatty deposit. May as well get right to the point about that. Just when I was imagining how wonderful life would be if I wasn’t hauling around these low hanging mangoes. You guys, most of you don’t deal with aging breasts, so you don’t know how irritating it can be. They are always in the way. Require additional support. And when you get older, it’s a lose-lose proposition. Bras are uncomfortable, but so are globs of fat sticking to your ribs. Can’t win.
Gotta admit, the only creatures happy about a collapsed Sleep Number bed are the cats. It’s one of the horrors you hope never happens to you. Absolutely, you dread the day you could ever imagine it happening. And then one day the doctor says you have a lump in your breast . . . and that was sooo last month. I am fairly calm and collected about it. Not like I envisioned. No big deal. But what is a huge f-ing deal is when you have to sleep on a collapsed Sleep Number bed.
Have you ever thought about this? Hey, never thought our bed would deflate. Leaving us bed-less, basically. I mean to say to my younger self, what did you think when you bought a mattress that was filled with air? That it would always work? Ha, you would not think that if you listened to the hokey noises the pump makes. Like something out of 1960. Unlike a waterbed, it is not likely to spring a leak. But at least back in the days of leaky waterbeds, you could patch them.
My husband was pleasantly surprised when I suggested a lazy Fourth of July in Old Sacramento. His first words were, you’re gonna make me drive somewhere. Too many drunks on the road. But no, see, I had predicted that would be his objection to venturing out of the house on the Fourth of July. Seemed to make sense that we instead walk. Get exercise.
From our home in Land Park, we logged 6 miles round trip. I had to rest next to this fellow, but darn, he had no whiskey in that jug.
My neighbors seem flabbergasted when I describe how we walk downtown or to Midtown. You WALK? They exclaim. Yeah, like one foot in front of the other. Nothing fancy.
Even though it’s the same old birthday that happens every year, I don’t always plan something for it. Staying in Sacramento this year. This year is the birthday I was supposed to retire. About 10 years ago, I circled this date on my calendar and promised myself I would retire when I turned 66. Plans have a funny way of not always working out. For one thing, I’m married to a guy who is almost 11 years younger than me. At 55, he has no urge to retire. It’s all my fault anyway. I should not have urged him to get a job, and if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have this problem right now.
This is not where the marriage proposal at Half Dome summit occurred (that photo is below) but it’s the only horizontal photo I have from Josh, and it’s too beautiful not to include in my blog today. What you see before you is Bridalveil Fall, and if you look closely, you can spot the rainbow at the bottom of the fall. It’s a short hike, relatively speaking, maybe a half hour at most, and it’s very wet along the way. Spray and mist feel great when it’s hot in the summer, in the spring I imagine it’s a bit chilly.