the Walnut Diary

I watched the videos the kids posted of our Thanksgiving Day walk.  There’s this pale, stiff, sick-looking old guy around the edges of the action.  Much thinner than before, though.  That’s because of the walking.

Bet quickly realized that I would grow bored with the driveway as an exercise track, so she headed off through the plantations of walnuts with the lawn mower, creating trails.  To my amazement she failed to hit a single rock. We now have a variety of routes with a choice of interesting foliage or panoramic views.  The entourage (Bet and the dog) accompanies me on most expeditions, so all are exercised on one-mile hikes, two or three times per day.

That part of my recovery is fine.  Legs, heart and lungs work well.  It’s the rest of the day that causes grumbles.  I can’t really do anything but walk.  This morning I tried to dry the dog and felt a sharp pain down the incision on my chest.  Oops.  Can’t stretch.  Yesterday I moved my Porsche out of the shop to its parking space.  Sore pecs for the remainder of the day from steering an SUV with power steering into a parking space!  Two days before I tried a little run on the Kubota equipped with a belly mower and hydraulic everything.  Sore pecs.  I literally can’t steer anything.

Of course any sort of housework is out if I can’t handle a steering wheel.

On the other hand, yesterday’s turkey and pie were outstanding, and we had a great time with Charlie and Roz and baby Ada, even if Bet had to do all of the work.

So far my bride still seems glad to have me around, but I’ll have to tread carefully in this area.