Yesterday I biked out into the country to visit a friend. I hadn’t done anything physical and was crawling out of my skin. I didn’t mean to bike eleven hilly miles and I wasn’t ready. No water and too much clothing were the least of my problems. I am just not in shape. At least I was atop an easy pedaling machine.
When I got to my friend’s house, he wasn’t home. Painters were, though, and they let me in for a drink of water. Fortified, I was able to make it home.
Home is tough just now. Frida still has a sore jaw. We’re softening up her food but not enough. We’re headed to the vet in twenty minutes. Another in a long list of scary rides to the vet. This doesn’t feel like a deal breaker, but that possibility is always peeking through a half closed door into on our quiet three person life. Fingers crossed. It is hard to see Frida hurting.
Thanks for listening while I wait for the clock to strike ten. That’s when it won’t be altogether too early to wrangle my two girls into the car to start the trip.