Not a grand finale — alas — I didn’t make my 3 mile goal. The furthest I journeyed on foot before the six weeks were up (yesterday) was about 2 and 2/3 miles.
However, I got to check in with the whole neighborhood. Mary Catherine Lamb’s house is getting a grand renovation, with new solar panels on the roof and lots of mysterious workers carrying two-by-fours around. The housing stock on my walking route is still its wondrously mixture of old Portland styles, a few ranch houses, “motel-8” apartment complexes, some wonderful old apartment complexes, tons of pre-war single family houses, one assisted living complex, one church, one elementary school, and plants beyond belief, most just verging on out-of-controlness (like the ones in our yard). There’s even a mansion or two, one of which (The Harry McCormick Mansion built in 1907–1910) that’s up for sale for something like 1.5 million. Mercy!
This is not our house, nor the for-sale mansion, but a place that was derelict a few years back. It was bought and flipped just before the crash, and the new owners seem to be taking great care of it. I like it in part because just beyond it is the only madrone (arbutus) tree I’ve found on my daily journeys.
But back to the Hip Replacement: I am now wearing my jeans, having given over the wrap-around skirts, ditched the cane, and taken up sleeping in my own bed upstairs. I’m brushing my teeth in the Big Bathroom, also upstairs, a boon I hadn’t given a thought to prior to doing all my ablutions in the beautiful but tiny downstairs facility. I think I brush my teeth like I talk — with my hands going in all directions.
I have worked in the studio once (earlier this evening) and hope to do a plein air painting stint tomorrow with Willa. I can pick things up off the floor provided they aren’t too flat, but I had to make Jer dig out some paper from a low cabinet where it was hiding. I even trimmed some Cotoneaster in the parking last night; it was threatening to eat the commuters who like to park on our street.
So with any luck, this is the last report from the hip replacement saga. From here on out, I have few excuses not to do art, help with the gardening, produce reports from this part of the world, and generally behave as if I were a whole person. Which I am, even more so now that part of my anatomy has been replaced with titanium. The bionic woman, at last.
Oh yes, our magnolia tree is blooming, a mixed blessing, since it scatters its petals in Jer’s pristine garden room, and will shortly be throwing down its seed pods on unsuspecting passersby. But right now, it’s heavenly.