Jane’s hematology report was ace, except for two things: blood pressure and weight gain. So she’s supposed to walk. I volunteered to join her—I’ve got muscle pain like you wouldn’t believe, with a lot of the symptom-pattern of fibromyalgia. This is not good. They do say walking is good for that. And our neighborhood while excellent does have a few stray-ins from the not-so excellent area a little further on, so two is better. So…we walked. I felt pretty good. I even volunteered to keep walking, and then volunteered for one more really long block. And then I began getting tired, so we shortcutted a wellkept alley and headed back. Well, Jane’s complaining;  I’m complaining, both of hip-muscle pain.

We get home and the pastor of the church across the street overtook us, just to chat; and I went indoors to collapse, while Jane undertook another tour of progress on the garden; and we gifted the pastor with another 20 lbs of iris roots—they’re raising money to do a house-build in Mexico, a church to church thing. So, well, I was exhausted, went in and collapsed.

An hour later I could hardly get out of my chair and walk. Walk Idid, to the medicine cabinet and the Advil. Those nice trainers we wear—the Reebok Easy-Tones that we use to keep our feet in shape for skating?  That cushion your feet so nicely and make walking very soft and fast?

They also give your butt a heckuva workout. We are applying ice, and wondering whether we will be able to get out of bed tomorrow. Ow. Ow. Ow.