Suddenly, it feels like I have absolutely no time in the evenings. I’m going on vacation seven weeks from Thursday and I’m working pretty hard on my French, which means at least an hour every evening and several hours each weekend day (plus listening to News in Slow French on my commute). I wonder if that is what is making the evenings seem like they are lasting about ninety minutes. Because I swear, I get home, I feed the cats and have dinner, do some French, shower and go to bed. Knit? Read? Cook? Chores? Ha.
Tonight was über-exciting in that I mixed it up — the cats, dinner, less French than normal, a bath with a book!, and now I’m back on the computer. The baths are becoming necessary because I appear to have screwed up my left hip somehow — I can’t make the movement one needs to to, say, put one’s foot on the opposite knee. This makes things like fiddling with shoes difficult, and sitting cross-legged in bed, or sitting on the floor at all. It definitely feels muscular rather than the joint. In jointland, however, we have my arthritic knees that hate going down stairs. So, to help me feel better, I’ve been taking hot baths with lavender Epsom salt. It’s soothing and it’s a nice thing to do on a weeknight, since weekdays in general are somewhat dreary sometimes.
Also, I am feeling particularly round and busty, and I know if I were less so, my body would ache less. I know that weight loss is a pipe dream — almost no one succeeds at it and of those who do, almost none of them keep it off — but it would be nice. Just being able to buy a bra in a store would be nice!
Have to go do girly doctor things tomorrow. Oh joy. And I have to check in with my GP because she wants to do a blood pressure check — but after tomorrow at the GYN she can just check my medical record. And of course I’m all paranoid she’s going to want to do bloodwork as well and they’ll find out I’m diabetic or have sky-high cholesterol or have some other issue that will a) be awful and b) result in the tsk-tsk of the medical professional talking to the large person.
True story: In college, I went to the doctor with a complaint completely unrelated to weight. I think it may have been an ear infection or something. So I’m “blah blah blah ear hurts” and he responds, basically: “Hmm. Yes. You know you’re significantly overweight?” I kept deflecting back to my ear and he kept bringing up the weight. I wanted to say, “You know, my weight has nothing to do with this problem. And really, yes, I know I’m overweight. Did you think I’d missed it? I’m fat, not stupid!” But I was nineteen or so and just completely nonplussed. Still, I know one day there will be a similar conversation again, and then it might be something weight-related.
So I’m a little stressed out and body-loathing and ache-and-pain cognizant. Alas.
Segue here to:
I’ve bought a ticket for the Anne Frank House for the Sunday I will be in Amsterdam. It’s an entry time with a 30-minute English intro — at 9:45 AM. This is good, given my penchant for morning sleep. I’m really going to aim to get up at 7 every morning I’m in Europe this year. I will no doubt not make that goal daily but at least if it’s a goal, I will make it sometimes. I excused myself in Paris last year saying that nothing I wanted to go do was open much before ten anyway, but I could still hie myself out to have some coffee somewhere. So I deliberately chose an early-ish entry. I’ve heard the lines can be long and it’s easier if you just book ahead. I’m down with that!
I’ve also booked a tour out of Prague to Terezin. Many years ago I saw an exhibit of children’s drawings from Terezin at the museum at Cal, and was transfixed. At the time I thought, “That would be so interesting, but I will never get to Czechoslovakia!” Twenty years and a national breakup later and I will be in the Czech Republic; I looked to see how close Terezin is to Prague, and it’s not far at all. So I’ve booked a tour from 10-4 on my first full day there. I could do it on my own but I kind of want to just put myself into someone else’s hands. If I were with other people I would probably do the bus thing on my/our own, but alone it seems more daunting.
And after all this serious history, I may get to meet and snorgle the French kitty of a French knitting friend when I get myself to Paris. I will probably need it — being in cat withdrawal as well — and I wonder if I’m going to be exhausted by the time I get there! I think Amsterdam and Prague are going to be a little more tiring just from the “I’ve never been here; I have no idea where I’m going; all this is entirely new; I can’t read any of the signs” standpoint. And oh, the walking!
I think I’d better bring a bag of Epsom salt with me.