The Third Thousand Days
I’m still all jazzed from bowling Thursday. Forced to take a break to attend Erics graduation this coming Thursday. Hope that it gives the callous on my thumb time to absorb 3 or 4 quarts of moisturizer. It’s all cracked & nasty looking. I’m afraid it’s going to split open and start oozing. That’s going to make gripping a ball awful difficult. (Minds – get ’em out of the gutter!)
I don’t know what’s gotten into the spin instructors this week but every one of them was really emphasizing the climbs. Another killer comes about 45 minutes into the class. The instructor will say “Last working song, then we’ll cool down!”, and you hear the opening strains of “Freebird” wafting through the speakers. That’s ALWAYS a climbing tune, and it seems to never actually end.
One thing I finally learned this week too – once you’re past 10 minutes into the class and you have to get up to grind through some heavy resistance, it’s best if you spread your towel across the handle bars and make sure the area over the flywheel is covered. If sweat drips on the flywheel, it lubes it at first, but it also cleans the dust off the resistance pad so it grips really, really well after one revolution. One time I had a nice stream of sweat drip right on the wheel and it almost brought me to a stop it changed the friction so radically. Proving once again that I am a slave to my environment, I’m finally catching on to that little trick with draping my towel.
Got a phone call from the nursing facility this afternoon. Bob’s not doing well. Didn’t eat at all today. We went in to see him and see first hand what the nurses were trying to describe. What we saw was not good. Bob hadn’t been out of bed all day, content to sleep. We were there for an hour and a half, he woke briefly 3 or 4 times. Without his glasses I think he doesn’t have a chance to recognize anybody, but it didn’t matter. It appears he’s had another stroke. No speaking in the last 24 hours, won’t or can’t get out of bed, won’t eat or drink. When his eyes ARE open, the right lid is droopy and both eyes are rather empty.
It’s kind of good that Cindy has this week off work. She prepared too. There’s a bottle of vodka stashed in the room formerly known as the family room. She got it before the call from the nursing home, so I’m guessing she was stocked up for her week off. Now with her dad doing poorly, that bottle may really challenge her resolve.
Ahhhh well . . .