ankle surgery

Nancy Drew reclaims her roadster

Wheeee! Don't mean to scare you, but "just" 7 1/2 weeks after ankle surgery, guess who's in the driver's seat again?

I slid behind the wheel of my roadster after breakfast, and my husband called shotgun. He stashed the crutches in the backseat, and off we went! We kept it short ("baby steps," remember?), but it was a sparkling autumn morning, just perfect for a Sunday drive. Absent any white-knuckled, passenger-seat braking on his part, I think I passed the confidence test–his and mine.

On the way home, we stopped at one of our favorite beachfront vistas. We kept it short ("baby steps," remember?), but it was a sparkling autumn morning, just perfect for a Sunday drive.

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Freedom: It feels like ocean breezes and tastes like happy tears.
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Thankful Thursday: Hope on Wheels

I love spontanaity and swirl, and the memories that come of venturing into Unknown Territory. So as you might imagine, being strapped for weeks on end into an ortho boot is starting to wear a bit thin. It's certainly put a damper on my outdoor activities–like one of those parking boots they slap on your front tire for unpaid tickets.

But look, shiny object! Beach wheelchairs, provided free to State residents by the California Coastal Commission!

Whee, our tax dollars at work!

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And so it was that I was able to spend last Sunday afternoon at Crystal Cove State Park, careening over sand dunes, snapping photographs and splashing through the waves in a bad-ass, fat-tire wheelchair.

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I love bending "You can't…" in the direction of "I will." You, too?
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It was a feast for body, mind and spirit…an afternoon of unbridled joy.

Here, an amazing gift to those of us who hear the ocean beckon but who can't wiggle their toes in wet sand, for however long and whatever reason. It's another of those "impossible things before breakfast," made possible this time by compassionate, community-minded legislators. Yes, oh yes, I'm grateful.

The View From My Window

I like to look out the window. I have spent freely so much of my time doing this, and sometimes it strikes me how little I know of the various things other people can do. I can’t play bridge. I don’t play tennis. All those things that people learn, and I admire, there hasn’t seemed time for. But what there is time for is looking out the window.
— Alice Munro

Still recovering from ankle tendon surgery, which means I'm spending a good deal of time sprawled on the sofa like an overturned beetle, boot-clad, bandaged leg above my heart. #Metamorphosis, anyone? It's a lengthy recovery process, and I won't bore you with the details. But I'm grateful for the lessons available to me in this period of enforced stillness.

Mindfulness. A deeper appreciation for my physical body, inclusive of all its abilities and limitations. Peace in the moment, and joy in every hobbling step.

It'll be a while before I'm able to return to some of my favorite activities: gardening, hiking, dipping my toes in the ocean and  (vroom vroom) taking my Nancy Drew roadster for a spin. But hey, I have a wicked-fast knee scooter, so go me!! And my camera's got a fantastic zoom lens, which helps bring my garden indoors.

I captured these photos through a window screen, balancing teetering on my scooter all the while.

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Mule deer! In the wilds of Orange County, who knew?!?

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Grace. Beauty. The element of surprise.

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These, the gifts that come of shifting my gaze. Going inward. Looking out my window.

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