Turning a Corner

When I left therapy on Monday, I could barely walk. My knee locked with each step and refused to bend for the next. My therapist had to help me across part of the floor. At the beginning of the session, my therapist had smeared a mixture of beeswax and mineral oil over my scars and preceded to inflict the Graston technique.

Basically, he took a dull scalpel and rubbed it back and forth over the scarring as quickly as he could. I'm sure you're wondering if it hurt. Well, none of your beeswax! I mean, of course it's your business because you're kind enough to be here, reading my blog.

Yes, it hurt! Then he instructed me to lie on my stomach while he scraped at the back of my knee. Apparently, this is a very ticklish spot for me. Despite the also-present pain, I could not keep the giggles in. I was able to keep from kicking him in the face, but that was about it. "Okay," he said, "that's not going to work."

Hmm .... maybe I'll laugh every time to get out of it.

So we did the normal workout after that and I limped home. But Tuesday I could walk almost normally. In fact, several times I would move without remembering I'd had surgery. Wednesday was even better! By the time I went back on Thursday, I was dreading the treatment while hoping he would do it again because the results were so amazing.

I warmed up on the exercise bike, he scraped and I tried not to laugh or cry, and we did the normal workout. Then he handed me a weighted ball and took me over by the trampoline. What??

I balanced on my "bad" leg, threw the ball toward the middle of the tipped personal trampoline, and caught it without touching the other foot to the floor. I was quite proud of myself.

Scott started sidling across the room. WHAT?? Next thing I know I'm scooting sideways from one end of the building to the other as if I was guarding someone in basketball.

But when Scott walked over with a jump rope, all I could think was DOUBLE WHAT?? Despite my body not jumping even once in the last seventeen weeks, I was able to remember how. After a few tries. Then he made me try again--this time holding the rope!

I grabbed those plastic handles, positioned the rope behind me, arced the rope around my body, and--I couldn't jump. Ooohhhkkaaaay. I smiled, flipped the rope back again, and repeated the prep. But it hit the front of my shoes since they never left the floor. I wished I could have asked everybody to not look, but I decided to try again. This time my brain was able to put it all together!

From limping to jump roping! Thanks, torturous Graston!

Rotten Reviews & Funny Views

Robin Johns Grant is giving away a copy of Rotten Reviews and Rejections over on her blog. Head over, leave a comment, and tell me if you win.

I've also got to share a funny YouTube video I learned about while on our writing weekend. You may have already seen it, but, personally, I think it gets funnier each time.

Charley Bit My Finger

Make sure you have your volume up. You have to watch at least twice. The second time, you know where to focus your attention. So, so many lessons on human nature!

Writers' Weekend at the Beach

Want to see what I look like without makeup, unshowered, and in my pajamas? Of course, you don't. Too bad. I think goals are very important in life. My goal on Saturday was to shower by 5 PM. And you know what? I made it.



Donna Fleisher brought a mix of unpublished and published authors at the beach this past weekend. We arrived--with WAY too much food-- Friday afternoon and didn't depart until late Sunday morning.

From the left: Kristin Johnson, Mom, me, Donna, Judy Gann, and Miriam Cheney. Hmmm, four of us are in the Redeemed Writers' Critique Group. Coincidence? I think not.

We had a fabulous time full of plotting, critiquing, advising, mentoring, eating, hot tubbing, beach gazing, etc ...

Speaking of the beach, we stayed at the Sandcastle Beachfront Motel.

When we first walked in, it felt as if we'd boarded a boat because the only thing visible through the picture window was the ocean. The name really means it with this motel!

Donna is the only person I know who has a category solely concerning me on her blog. About my knees, no less.

BTW, I need to send a BIG thank you to Timothy Fish for sending me the link to the official banana string name: phloem bundles. Not knowing was driving me bananas!

Name that Banana Thingy!!

My Grandpa Smith is one cool guy. He's still active in the Coast Guard Auxiliary. He skied the slopes around Lake Tahoe until they moved here. He tried to teach my children how to start a fire with flint and pocket lint. Yep, he's one cool guy.

So one day when he pondered a deep question, I told him I would find the answer. "What," he wondered, "are the strings on bananas called?" I went into action, surfing the web, posting notes on fruit bulletin boards ... even emailing Dole directly. No one answered. It appears that the strings are nameless.

This quest began a while ago, but recently Grandpa brought up my failure to find THE ANSWER. "Due to your utter inability after a year of diligent searching to find the scientific name for the shreds that develop from peeling a banana I have decided to take care of this matter by self declaration. I hereby declare the shreds to be named 'Banana Chads.'"

Use your new knowledge for good. :-) If you have a better name for banana strings, leave it in the comments.

Lighten Up

I had the privilege of critiquing an unpublished book recently. See, despite my never mentioning it on this blog, I am still working almost everyday. Really! I was almost ready to send my full manuscript on to an interested editor when my agent suggested some changes, so that's been pushed back a bit. Also, I'm spending this weekend at a writer's retreat. I'm hoping I can fix what my agent feels needs fixing then. :-)

Anyway, back to this book I critiqued. It's amazing. It's life-changing. It has a powerful message without any preachiness. And it's chick lit. I'm thinking I have to get over my aversion to the label and admit that I enjoy the genre. Hah.

Angela contorted my body into strange positions when we met two years ago at OCW. She led a workout class as a night owl. A terrific way to work out the stress of the day. We hit it off and found many similarities. Young children, common themes during our marriages, writing for about the same amount of time, and more. We exchanged manuscripts and--this is only my opinion; I don't know that she'd agree--found we were at the same level in our craft. We both signed with agents soon after and our career paths have continued move at an equal rate since. We've both finished second novels and edited our first ones to death. I can't wait for her to land a contract because it means good things are coming my way. ;-)

Check out her blog post about Lighten Up. She has an idea for a book trailer. A genius idea. A brand new way to hook a reader's interest into the plot. And I love that such a mature, wise book would use a child-like method to explain the plot. Leave a comment and let her know if you agree.

Have a Party ... Change the World

This afternoon I picked six giggly girls--and one giggly boy--up from school. Andrea celebrated her birthday almost a month ago with a charity event, but she really wanted a sleep over, too. I hadn't felt up to it until this weekend. The plan was to sing High School Musical karaoke, which the girls fully embraced while Joshua played Legos. After eating Mickey Mouse burgers for dinner and playing Barbies for hours, they're finally all asleep downstairs in the theater.

I have no idea how early the first one will rise. And, like a virulent disease, she will pass her wakeful state to her neighbor. Who will pass it to her neighbor until they all are wide awake and begging for pancakes. The horror!

From the World Vision party: This is a picture of Andrea with her best friend since toddlerhood, Annika. We were getting ready to sing "Happy Birthday."

This is a shot of how many kiddos showed up. What a turn out! I'd been worried that no one would remember because the party was on the last day of Christmas break. I kept having to give my worry to the Lord and say that no matter how few people came, no matter how little money was raised, the party was already a success because our children were learning how to give.

Boy, did God blow my mind. $335 dollars! It a remarkable amount for two nine-year olds to raise, but it's even more remarkable what World Vision can stretch it into:

~two chickens
~a malaria prevention kit
~a share of an alpaca
~two shares of a treadle pump
~care for a sexually exploited girl
~AND a pond built in a village and stocked with tilipia, a rapid growth fish. It can feed up to 50 people indefinitely!

This is a shot of the play structure in Scotty's Playhouse. If you follow that link, you can read all about how a little boy touched so many people's lives before God took him to heaven. An inspirational place to have an inspirational party.