dream inside the paper cup
i'm lucky there was no one around this afternoon to smack me. i've been feeling pretty good the past couple days. still a little sore, and dealing with blisters still, but in pretty good spirits with spurts of real right regular energy every now and again. so while alone in the house this afternoon, the stability ball caught my eye. it was just sitting there in the livingroom CALLING to me. "sarah! sarah, come PLAY with me! come see what you can do!"
now, you can hardly blame me. under normal circumstances, i'm not the kind of person who just sits around all day. i like to be up, moving around. i like to be outside doing things. i like to be working out a few times a week. so to be in the house since friday afternoon (only leaving briefly and then having to come home to rest) is kinda hard. i took my dog for a very short walk this morning, and afterward i felt fine, so i was thinking i was doing even better than yesterday.
so i walked over to the ball and started by just sitting on it. i started to kind of roll myself into a few semi-lunges. i felt fine. great! and then i did it. i got into a push up position with my thighs on the top of the ball. the position stretched my tummy just a little too much and i felt a sharp pain around my bellybutton. i stopped and went over to the couch to lay down. none of the stitches popped, but the muscles did do a weird spasm-y thing for a few minutes. apparently five days after surgery isn't quite the right time to start trying to do those things. lesson learned.
"i set myself up for, the greatest fall of all time..."
i'm thinking of writing my father a letter. i started one when i was in argentina, but after ten pages, just stopped. there are so many things he needs to know, but i don't know how well he's going to take any of them. it's really time for him to step up to the plate and deal with these issues though. the only one of his three children who he still speaks with (my oldest brother) tried to tell him that he needs to come out here and speak with us face to face, but so far, nothing. it'd be a shame if he lost that son also. sending it in a father's day card just seems a bit cruel though...i mean, not quite as cruel as calling your daughter up during her eighth birthday party to tell her that you're never coming home or anything...but it still might be a bit mean.
now, you can hardly blame me. under normal circumstances, i'm not the kind of person who just sits around all day. i like to be up, moving around. i like to be outside doing things. i like to be working out a few times a week. so to be in the house since friday afternoon (only leaving briefly and then having to come home to rest) is kinda hard. i took my dog for a very short walk this morning, and afterward i felt fine, so i was thinking i was doing even better than yesterday.
so i walked over to the ball and started by just sitting on it. i started to kind of roll myself into a few semi-lunges. i felt fine. great! and then i did it. i got into a push up position with my thighs on the top of the ball. the position stretched my tummy just a little too much and i felt a sharp pain around my bellybutton. i stopped and went over to the couch to lay down. none of the stitches popped, but the muscles did do a weird spasm-y thing for a few minutes. apparently five days after surgery isn't quite the right time to start trying to do those things. lesson learned.
"i set myself up for, the greatest fall of all time..."
i'm thinking of writing my father a letter. i started one when i was in argentina, but after ten pages, just stopped. there are so many things he needs to know, but i don't know how well he's going to take any of them. it's really time for him to step up to the plate and deal with these issues though. the only one of his three children who he still speaks with (my oldest brother) tried to tell him that he needs to come out here and speak with us face to face, but so far, nothing. it'd be a shame if he lost that son also. sending it in a father's day card just seems a bit cruel though...i mean, not quite as cruel as calling your daughter up during her eighth birthday party to tell her that you're never coming home or anything...but it still might be a bit mean.