Some random thoughts at 1:44 a.m.

The Greatest Showman

I saw The Greatest Showman for the 5th time yesterday, and loved it even more. My grandson, who turned 8 and loves all things Lego and dragons, and action, wanted me to take him to see it for his birthday date. He loves to listen to the soundtrack when I pick him up from school a couple of times a week. He goes to a school about 30 minutes away for kids who are "on the spectrum."

When we listen, he asks me to explain what is happening in each song and then he does some analyzing. So, this song is really about being kind to everyone. Or, this song means we should be proud of who we are. He says that the songs make him feel good. He turned and hugged me during Come Alive at the theater because he was feeling pure joy. Music is better than drugs.

When I am in pain from my surgery, if I listen to music, usually The Greatest Showman and dance, even if I can't use my feet, my pain goes away in a couple of songs. The doctor should say, "Dance 2 songs and call me in the morning." Dancing is a powerful drug.

My final, (for today,) take away from The Greatest Showman is: if you are ever kissing on the beach, make sure it is windy and that you are wearing a long scarf. Dreamy.

Animal Kingdom

My granddaughters would rather be animals than people. They act more like animals than people. They sound more like animals than people. They know a lot about animals. They have watched a lot of animal shows. They know what animals do, so it was great Sunday dinner conversation when they said to my teenage son and his new girlfriend, "You guys should mate when you get older."

I am those people. . .

I used to go to the gym and look at the people in the pool and think, ah, those people. The people who can't do real exercise. The old people. Well, now I am "those" people and, I like those people. I like being in the pool and exercising with those people. I actually sweat in the water. Is it because I'm old or because what I thought was easy exercise really isn't? So, until you've walked a mile in someone else's shoes or swam in someone else's suit . . . You know what I mean.

It is a Sunny Day

I practically ran a marathon today. Well for me. Actually what I did was walk one mile and it took me 23 minutes and 33 seconds. I was probably 50 yards in and wasn't sure if I could finish. But I did. One step at a time. Six months ago today I had my achilles tendon replaced and then I got a nasty thing called CRPS. Three months ago I felt like I would never walk again. Four months ago amputation sounded like a good idea. So, this was a BIG deal for me.

A couple of weeks ago Ric and I were in Santa Barbara watching our daughter, Tess, play Lacrosse for BYU. We went to a Chinese restaurant and Ric got a fortune that said something like, "A chance meeting will bring you great fortune and success." Mine said, "It is a sunny day." And it was. But what kind of a stupid fortune is that. I felt cheated. But then I thought about it and that little gem is actually packed with truth and wisdom.

When the pain in my foot was sooo bad, desperate for any kind of relief, I downloaded a meditation app on my phone. One session the guy with the cool Australian accent told me that if things were "mentally cloudy," to remember that the sun was shining above the clouds. That thought gave me a sliver of hope.

It was about that time that I started seeing a new physical therapist. He told me that I couldn't say, "my bad foot." I had to find a give it a positive label. "Left foot" didn't seem positive enough, so I finally settled on "new foot," which totally freaked my granddaughter out. New is better than old. New is stronger than old. New is shiny and perfect. New things are exciting--new shoes, new friends, new toys. New is so much better than bad or broken or stupid. . .

The foot that had once been a ball and chain, a curse, and a pain, a burden to heavy to bear, became my "pet." I coddled it. I talked nicely. When it hurt, I thought of tendons and muscles repairing. Bit by bit, my pain lessened and what seemed impossible a few months ago became possible.

My big toe, which has been known to give me some grief since my surgery, has been affectionately renamed "The Diva." She's behaving much nicer now that I've recognized she just needed a little extra attention and some bright red polish.

So, my stupid fortune became my perfect fortune. Forget the "fortune and success," I'll be all right as long as it is sunny outside.