D'Oh, HeHe, Ouch

Update on the latest spinal tappings.
After an X-ray that revealed a neck problem - gee really?- an MRI was ordered. This was my first experience with the "scary tube". I'd heard many stories of claustrophobic horror. Men reduced to little girls when trapped inside this cylindrical tomb of terror. Well here's my take; good grief, grow up Nancy. Besides being louder than I thought it was 30 minutes of peaceful rest. The occasional angelic voice asking if all is well made things even more delightful.

So the resulting image prompted a meeting with a neurosurgeon. Here's where I say it doesn't matter how small the problem, when someone says "we're setting you up with a neurosurgeon" it just doesn't sound good. "You'll have to see a neurosurgeon to pick up your ice cream cake and balloon animals". See? still disturbing. But this was a pleasant enough visit which brings me to Homer up there. When he (the Doctor, not Homer) showed me the MRI it looked and reminded me of this picture so I had to chuckle. After I thought about the absurdity I really wanted to laugh out loud. Sadly because my brain looked very similar.

All of which brings us to today. Day 1 of physical therapy to try and alleviate the slipped disc in my C-5-6 region. Alot of boring stretches and movements that most certainly will make me a pilates instructor down the road. I was really hoping for some sort of medieval device that would stretch my spine and allow things to re-adjust. Perhaps after a while I could yell Freedom!! as King Longshanks passes away(sorry, obscure Braveheart reference)
So we'll see how well this works. Hopefully it does the trick. I'm tired of taking it easy.
Besides, I've got that pilates class to teach.

Treadmill Faith

We recently finished the evangalism series at church entitled "Every Believer a Witness". Real world, hands-on application of how to get out of our cozy little worlds. Perhaps it was the freshness of the subject matter that prompted this post as I was a sweaty, exhausted mess. I like to run. I run several times a week. Depending on the time and weather I alternate running on a treadmill and outside. While cruising along on setting number 8 the other night some issues from the church series collided with some running issues. If you've ever run on a treadmill you may know that it is much easier that actually running. I'm no physicist but Im sure the basis for this is the fact that you're not creating any inertia or momentum. You're simply running in place while the road moves under your feet. Sound familiar church? Then there are the surrounding factors. Usually while I'm running there is no one else around which may or may not be worse than when those around me are doing exactly the same thing, dressed the same and concerned with little more than how they look or who they can impress. We're all making great strides (pun intended) doing alot of work, sweating, grunting and the like. But when it's all over, I'm still in the same spot, seen the same people and experienced nothing more than the last 12 times I ran on "the mill". Contrast this to when I get out and hit the road. Yes, I deal with the elements; head wind, water, pot-holes, searing heat and humidity that requires Gatorade injections. All of which make the run a little less comfortable not to mention that the road is not moving. I have to supply the energy. I have to make things go if I want to get somewhere. But when I do I experience all sorts of things. New sites and sounds. Other runners, people gardening, crazy dogs and crazier kids. Sometimes there are hills(very small ones-Lowcountry remember), sometimes curves. Who knew the road wouldn't be straight? Strangly this doesn't make me stop or turn back. It's the hills and turns that make it all the more fun. All of these "diversions" also serve to make the time go by quicker. No clock or odometer to deter the eye. Just the real world. Just me covering ground, working hard and getting out there away from a sterile environment. Maybe this correlates with the Church and our fear outside our comfort zone or maybe it doesn't. Either way, we should all strive for dirty shoes.

Welcome to Hollywood, Dog

Name: Chloe (a.k.a. Tenacious C)

Age : 3

Breed: Cockapoo

Bats- Right

Throws- Left

Hobbies: Chasing Lizards , Staring out window, Reading, Battling

Squirrles for acorns on deck.

Books: Scooby Do anthology, Anything by Stephen Hawking

Quote: "If I could only reach the gas pedal."

Christmas Eve

12:50 am Christmas Eve/Day and here is my first gift of the year. A new blog site! It brings me such joy to give so much to those around me. Ok, so my inaugural post is wrought with sarcasm. I was moved to create such literary greatness by fellow wrongdoers Chip and Cliff. And since they are the only bloggers I know here I may as well refer to them as, you and you.
The thought of compiling a "year-in-review" was considered. But that's just too much nonsense. So I've settled for a "night-in-review": Lovely Christmas Eve service at church (boy did I Bring-it on the Halleluja chorus!) Fine crowd, about 1200. As if the festive season hadn't reached a creshendo our dinner of choice was home-made Nog pancakes. That chef can sure burn in the kitchen! The yule carb loading was followed by a tradition that some have found generic but I still embrace. Jimmy Stewart's "It's a Wonderful Life". It has the warmth, feel and love that we look for this time of year. And that Donna Reed is just delightful. And of course the 24-hour Christmas Story marathon attracts my wondering eye from time to time. (like now, No Ralphie!)
So as I finish my milk and cookies- yes I'm completely cliche' - I'll try to remember to come back here. Merry Christmas to all.