Confessions in Postcards 4

1980: Mission Beach Plunge, They won’t let me take a picture at the Y. I’m the middle top lady in red.

I have to confess, I truly hate to get out and to the pool in the mornings. I’m such a lazy old lady. If given a choice, I will stay home and vegetate over my computer or a book. I’ll make endless excuses, I’ll complain, find perfectly logical reasons to stay home, and finally I jolly myself downstairs and into the car or truck.

I’ve been very careful with my endless excuses this week. I want to keep my blood sugar down in normal range. If I don’t get my rear out of the computer chair and into the water, I’ll get out of the doctor’s comfort range at lightning speed. Care because of last weeks excuse, that torn muscle. So I walk slowly. I do all the stretches gently. I keep moving for the first twenty minutes, then I join the aerobics class. Gently. By the time I am headed to the hot tub…twenty minutes before the rest of the class, I’m beginning to feel good. By afternoon, as the sun slides down through the fog bank, I’m feeling guilty about my morning self-centered laziness.

It’s evening now. I’ve read two good Journalists articles about Trump, G took me out to dinner, where I ate too much, and I have a new book next to my bed. I’m feeling really good. Silly me. I get to fight myself again tomorrow morning.

• Himself: Did a little of everybody’s jobs today. He ate too much dinner too. Fridge still leaking. He’s not happy. Printing tickets and passes for our LV trip.
• Herself: Massive book donations. Thank you all. Three incomplete libraries some damp and moldy books mixed in with the good stuff. It took more than four hours to get them all unboxed, and I never did get them all priced. I may go back today.
• Reading: ”Tag Man,” A Joe Gunther mystery.
• Gratitudes: That once today I almost ran up the stairs.