I've watched my share of Olympic coverage from Milano Cortina, Italy, over the last two-plus weeks. I mostly enjoy watching curling, but also figure skating, snowboarding, and ski jumping. I love the winter Olympics. It's been a nice distraction from our dysfunctional country. I was in a curling league two years ago and became fascinated by the sport. There is so much strategy involved. I still have much to learn about it.
I've been going to the gym (Planet Fitness) 4 to 6 days a week. It's nice that it's less than a ten-minute drive from home. I've been working on strengthening my quadriceps muscles in my surgically repaired knee, but I'm also focusing on my core—something I've neglected my entire adult life. I'm pleased with the progress I've made. I see the gym as a regular part of my workout routine for years to come. It's such a good value, too, at only $10 per month. I wish I had begun years ago, but better late than never.
I was putting on my socks recently when I noticed I had a nice bend in my surgical knee. I took a photo of it, then used an app on my phone to measure the flexion. It was around 127º. I recall my doctor telling me, after he performed a manipulation under anesthesia (aka an MUA), where he got my knee to bend to 130º, that I would be doing well to maintain 110º to 115º. I left physical therapy last March with a maximum bend of 117º. Achieving 127º makes me super happy. But there is a problem with my knee's alignment. The portion of my leg below my knee isn't lined up with the upper half, and is off by about 7º (it flares outward). I brought this up with my doctor at our one-year follow-up. He acknowledged its misalignment, but seemed unconcerned. He felt it would improve when all of the swelling had subsided. My concern was that it would lead to hip issues over time. Again, he seemed unconcerned. It's not as though there's an easy fix for it.
We got to see Rachel, Drew, Cliff, Jenny, and PJ on Valentine's Day. Our Christmas get-together was the last time we saw them. Rachel is good about Facetiming with us, usually every week or two for thirty minutes. Surprisingly, at a little over two years old, Cliff can recognize that it's Grandma GG and Grandpa KG on the phone. A few weeks ago, he was showing off to us his ability to jump on the couch, something he hadn't done before, Rachel said. He has a pleasant, curious demeanor. I love it when he calls me Grandpa. It's the sweetest thing.
He loves playing with his trucks and cars, and I love getting down on the floor with him and rolling them around. He's talking a lot. We can't always understand him, but he's working on it. I like to say I will never tire of him asking me questions, as I'm told little ones do. We're going to have some good talks together, and I can't wait for that to happen.
The photo of us from last weekend has Cliff's face turned away from the camera. For now, Rachel would like to avoid posting any photos of him online due to concerns about AI. I get that. I'll post pics of him if her sentiments change, but for now, this will do. His smile melts my heart. You'll have to trust me about that. We're loving being grandparents!
Our democracy is in peril. All the guardrails we rely on to keep our three branches of government in check and prevent them from running roughshod over one another are, for the most part, gone. The most troubling part of all of this is seeing how Republicans have rolled over and allowed this to happen, essentially removing all the guardrails that are necessary for a democracy to withstand a president who goes rogue. Heather Cox Richardson, the historian I rely on to help make sense of what's happening, has been reluctant to say we're under fascist rule, but she's there now. (Please see the video below.)
I've been wearing t-shirts to the gym with short statements of resistance, such as "Resist fascism," "Support democracy," "Resist," "Just say no to fascism," and so on. A woman at the gym stopped me a few weeks ago and thanked me for wearing them. I commented that I'd rather not feel the need to bring this sort of thing into the gym, but that I need to continue this small act of defiance for as long as necessary. She came up to me last week with a big smile. She wanted to show me her t-shirt, which said, "I run to support democracy." That made my day! But for every person who appreciates expressing concerns through t-shirts, there's probably someone else who disapproves. I can't concern myself about offending those who either support fascism or those who don't realize yet that that's what they're supporting.
It's Easter Sunday. In my previous life, I would have been rubbing elbows with the faithful at Hosanna this morning while listening to a condensed sermon from one of four or more services they would hold to be able to accommodate the demand of the C and E (Christmas and Easter) crowd. I used to love Hosanna—the convenience of its location, the meaning I would take away from the sermons, and the grounds (I used to mow the lawn at the church). I knew it was the right place for me at that time. I wrote about what I felt, and still feel, was a God experience the first time I attended a service there. It's an interesting read if you have the time. But it wouldn't last. Many years later, I would have a falling out with the lead pastor , and that left me disillusioned with organized religion. It's where I remain today. It too is an interesting read. I still see Easter as a time of renewal; a time to reevaluate my life and consider changes I can make to be a better person. I ...
We had a scare, but I'd like to begin by saying that Tammy will be okay. She woke me up at 4:35 on Saturday morning (11 days ago), saying, "I can't breathe, call 911!" She repeated it at least twice more. I hurriedly called 911 and explained to the dispatcher what was happening—what little Tammy could tell me and what I could observe. They continued to ask questions about Tammy and her condition. I explained the best I could, having only just awakened, while pleading with them to please hurry. Time seemed to crawl as we waited for help to arrive. I paused the 911 operator and ran to disarm our alarm and prop open the front door to save the arriving help whatever precious seconds I could. A Lakeville Police Department officer arrived shortly after Tammy appeared to lose consciousness. He announced his presence at the front door, and I yelled for him to come up the stairs. He hurried up the ten stairs to our bedroom and stood assessing the situation for a few seconds. ...
Rudy and Oscar have been with us for 11 months. Because they were strays, I sometimes wonder how they came to be abandoned. The scenario I've thought makes the most sense is that their original owners moved out of wherever they were living at the end of May and turned Oscar and Rudy loose when they left. They may have been on their own for a week or two before some kind person was able to get them and take them to the Humane Society. They were initially adopted by a woman, but she returned them after five days. They were probably too much for her. That's when we were contacted. Because I'm curious about where they were left to wander, I asked the Rochester Humane Society if they could provide us with an address for where they used to live. They're unable to divulge that information. I get that. It was worth a try. I've been a member at Planet Fitness for not quite a year. It's such a good value, and it's never overly crowded when I'm there. It feels grea...
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