Early morning hip clicks
On many weekday mornings, I set the clock alarm for 5 am so I can run before work. When NPR starts giving me the usual morning bad news (I sure do miss Bob Edwards), I reset the alarm for about ten more minutes. It is hard to leave the warmth of the spouse next to me, who is still hopefully involved in some good dream.
If my friend Becky is coming to run with me, I usually get up after the radio starts a second time. I go into the bathroom to dress and Jack the dog anxiously waits to see what it will be....if he hears the water in the shower, he knows there will be no run that day, and he will go back to bed. I shiver in the cold bathroom because the heat isn't set to go on until 6 am. When I am done pulling my tights on and wrestling with the running bra and long sleeve shirt, I open the bathroom door and Jack is laying there with his front paws crossed and pointed to a crack in the door as if he is doing some sort of trephination. I get a tail thump when he sees me dressed to go. He knows he gets to go with me.
We go into the kitchen and Jack gets his milk bone. I make myself drink one full glass of water every morning just because it seems to wake me up, all that cold going into an empty stomach. Jack gets glucosamine and we share a vitamin c tablet. I take my blood pressure meds and sometimes an allergy pill. He goes out to pee and I make coffee. While it is brewing I get my hat, gloves and other stuff required for this cool weather. I miss the warm summer mornings but there is something cozy about the dark cold ones. I get a Nurtri grain bar out of the cupboard, and put on a fleece jacket till the warm air takes the chill away.
Jack comes in and gets another bone. He's also my weather dog. If he comes in wet and white, I know it is snowing. I pour the coffee into my Morton Salt girl cup (my favorite) and dump in a gluck of milk. "Gluck" is a word I borrowed from my mother in law since she won't be needing it any more - she's lost that and many others due to the cruel affects of Alzheimers.
Jack and I go into the living room and I sit in a chair and cover my knees with a lap blanket that my sister's friend, Eva made for me. I think how nice it is that Eva hardly knows me but because I am the sister of her friend, she makes me things. I sip my coffee and eat my bar and look out onto the dark street and the outline of the addition that my neighbors are adding on to their what seemed to be big enough to me house. Sometimes I doze a bit or just free associate. It is usually around 5:35 but those ten minutes till Becky shows up seem like such a nice luxury - just sitting there and dozing. I feel like I am in the movie Ground Hog Day. Every morning when around 5:30 a guy goes running by. He turns to glance at the progress of the remodeling, and Jack barks at him. I say "Jack that's not Becky", and he quits, but not before the running guy turns to look at us like he does every morning.
"Do you want to stretch?" I ask Jack. He gets up and stretches. I love how he does this on command. Downward dog, upward dog. I get up and stretch too and put on my jacket. Usually I put my jacket on a heat vent so it is nice and warm when I put it on. Pretty soon Jack sees Becky appear out of the dark morning and begins hopping and jumping around. He knows she has milk bones. Becky brings the newspaper to the front door and drops her keys in the wood chips by the steps. We greet each other and Jack gets his bone and we are off.
This morning Becky has a bad cold. I have a left hip click that I can hear or maybe I can just feel. I don't know what it means but it is familiar enough that I don't worry about it. Maybe it means I am almost 54 and this is pretty much the least of my worries. Life is good as far as I know and that is all I need on a cold, dark morning.
If my friend Becky is coming to run with me, I usually get up after the radio starts a second time. I go into the bathroom to dress and Jack the dog anxiously waits to see what it will be....if he hears the water in the shower, he knows there will be no run that day, and he will go back to bed. I shiver in the cold bathroom because the heat isn't set to go on until 6 am. When I am done pulling my tights on and wrestling with the running bra and long sleeve shirt, I open the bathroom door and Jack is laying there with his front paws crossed and pointed to a crack in the door as if he is doing some sort of trephination. I get a tail thump when he sees me dressed to go. He knows he gets to go with me.
We go into the kitchen and Jack gets his milk bone. I make myself drink one full glass of water every morning just because it seems to wake me up, all that cold going into an empty stomach. Jack gets glucosamine and we share a vitamin c tablet. I take my blood pressure meds and sometimes an allergy pill. He goes out to pee and I make coffee. While it is brewing I get my hat, gloves and other stuff required for this cool weather. I miss the warm summer mornings but there is something cozy about the dark cold ones. I get a Nurtri grain bar out of the cupboard, and put on a fleece jacket till the warm air takes the chill away.
Jack comes in and gets another bone. He's also my weather dog. If he comes in wet and white, I know it is snowing. I pour the coffee into my Morton Salt girl cup (my favorite) and dump in a gluck of milk. "Gluck" is a word I borrowed from my mother in law since she won't be needing it any more - she's lost that and many others due to the cruel affects of Alzheimers.
Jack and I go into the living room and I sit in a chair and cover my knees with a lap blanket that my sister's friend, Eva made for me. I think how nice it is that Eva hardly knows me but because I am the sister of her friend, she makes me things. I sip my coffee and eat my bar and look out onto the dark street and the outline of the addition that my neighbors are adding on to their what seemed to be big enough to me house. Sometimes I doze a bit or just free associate. It is usually around 5:35 but those ten minutes till Becky shows up seem like such a nice luxury - just sitting there and dozing. I feel like I am in the movie Ground Hog Day. Every morning when around 5:30 a guy goes running by. He turns to glance at the progress of the remodeling, and Jack barks at him. I say "Jack that's not Becky", and he quits, but not before the running guy turns to look at us like he does every morning.
"Do you want to stretch?" I ask Jack. He gets up and stretches. I love how he does this on command. Downward dog, upward dog. I get up and stretch too and put on my jacket. Usually I put my jacket on a heat vent so it is nice and warm when I put it on. Pretty soon Jack sees Becky appear out of the dark morning and begins hopping and jumping around. He knows she has milk bones. Becky brings the newspaper to the front door and drops her keys in the wood chips by the steps. We greet each other and Jack gets his bone and we are off.
This morning Becky has a bad cold. I have a left hip click that I can hear or maybe I can just feel. I don't know what it means but it is familiar enough that I don't worry about it. Maybe it means I am almost 54 and this is pretty much the least of my worries. Life is good as far as I know and that is all I need on a cold, dark morning.
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