I am counting this morning’s blue skies after days of rain, thunder and lightening as an extra special birthday happy for me. Phone calls, cards, and in-person and online wishes have all given me touches of love. And as I type this I have a cup of hot tea beside me at our favorite coffee house.
That is a birthday treat from Husband Walter before we head out to the neuro rehab center for an occupational therapy session with Amy. That is also a birthday happy. It is now nearly two years after my stroke, and I am so thankful my gifted therapists are still working with me!
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This is Day 3 of my fast from complaining. Several blogging friends commented on my fasting. Their comments were encouraging. I had wondered, though, “Why 21 days?” A comment by Arkansas Patti of The New Sixty blog gave me the answer. It takes three weeks to establish a new habit!
I have already hit a few bumps in this fast. Hubby and I were on the way to the library when we became involved in a discussion. At one point he said, “You told me to tell you, so I am. You are complaining.”
I didn’t think so, and I started to explain why my comments were NOT complaints. He stopped me. I almost insisted. I do have a tendency toward going for the last word. This time, though, I kept silent and thought about it. If he took my comments as complaining, then I either really was or I needed to reconsider how I was expressing myself.
I also caught myself several times yesterday harboring complaints, although unspoken. Complaints lodged in my noggin still count as complaining. I am encouraged, though, by a new sense of awareness. I hope that awareness lasts. And the fast continues.
Somehow I thought I had posted my birthday post on Feb. 26 but apparently not. I guess two days of celebrating plus a chance to get out in our soggy yard derailed good intentions. I was eager to prep spots so that we could get a few tomato plants in the ground once our four-day cold-snap passes.
After tracking black moist soil indoors, I reprised Hubby's earlier plastic bag strategy to avoid dirty soles since my waterproof gardening shoes no longer work for me post stroke. I did enjoy myself, even with my goofy but effective footwear. The photo below was in a post here about my new garden "shoes."
March 2012 photo of my garden footwear