I'm Baaaack!

The Wrangler kicking back and watching my big comeback

There's been plenty going on here at the RDR, but I took a brief hiatus from blogging until I had some good news to report. Even I was tired of hearing about my aches and pains. For a while, it was looking like I might have the dreaded "frozen shoulder," but I've made some progress. (Ultimate remedy to frozen shoulder? Doctor unfreezes shoulder with force while patient is unconscious. Um, ouch?) My thrice-weekly physical therapy habit is beginning to pay off big time. Not only was I able to start playing the guitar again this past weekend, I started riding again. My mom pointedly ignores my emails discussing riding. She cannot be convinced that the doctor who cleared me for riding is anything but stark raving mad. My mom would prefer that I never ride again. She did mention a compromise of sorts...something about a miniature horse that is small enough so my feet would touch the ground when I ride. She did not suggest this in jest. Ahh, a mother's love and concern. But I had to get back on. I can't swaddle myself in bubble-wrap and sit at home the rest of my life.

I'm far from fearless, though. Truthfully, there are times when the thought of riding freaks me out. I clearly remember the feeling of hitting the ground and seeing my lifeless arm. I'm thankful everyday that my injuries were not worse. Unfooled by any bravado on my part, the trainers suggested that I regain my confidence on a very gentle 19-year old mare with an exceptionally smooth gait. I'm sad that I'm not leasing Moto; it wasn't his fault that I fell. But it's a long way to the ground from atop Mr. Moto. So, for now, I literally have a new lease on life with the slightly smaller, mild-mannered Francie. I think we'll be a good team. I hope to lease Moto again once I'm fully healed.

And thus things are resuming to normal around here. Most parts of the country are reveling in the full glory of fall, but for once I won't moan too much about the lack of seasons here in SoCal. I've pretty much used up my complaint allowance for the year--I definitely was not the angelic invalid cheerfully bearing her burdens with a smile, uttering nary a complaint. Beth March, I am not.