A cane, a popcorn machine and a compost heap

I realized yesterday, after working for at least four hours on a political profile for Armchair Lehigh Valley on the upcoming Easton (Pa.) City Council race, that I currently spend about ten hours a week on political journalism for that publication, about ten hours a week teaching college and another twenty hours working my evening fast food job.

That’s 40 hours a week, before we consider the 30-plus hours a week I devote to my book publishing business, Parisian Phoenix (parisianphoenix.com). I thought I had everything perfectly balanced– but toward the end of the week, my sleep was starting to suffer.

And last night I fell. Not once, but twice. And not at home. Or even on the street. But at my fast food job. Both of the falls were trips. Both were quickly forgotten.

But when I got home, and when I woke up this morning, my body was struggling. And when I caught my right foot “catching” on my left ankle and almost causing a fall on the way to the restroom, I went and got my cane out of the car.

(And because I often have a lot of 21-year-olds in my house– Eva, her romantic interest, and one of her friends from high school staying with us– they thought my snake head cane was badass. They also encouraged me to change my outfit to match it as I am currently in sweatpants.)

After finishing my lesson planning for my class at Northampton Community College this week, I started the new Superman movie as I am a Superman fan. Since the movie includes Krypto the Superdog as a significant character, I restarted the movie an hour in so I could watch it with Eva.

When Eva left for work, I cleaned the cupboards and collected all the open and stale food items that were more than a couple weeks old. I also admitted what items I would never eat and I took these out to the compost heap. A lot of crackers including a box of Triscuit thins I treated myself to and forgot about.

This is really hard for me. I have experienced food insecurity and have gone mildly hungry, so I have a tendency to not waste food to an excessive degree.

I used to garden when Eva was little, and our neighborhood has terrible clay soil so I keep a compost heap under my porch. And believe-it-or-not, the regular digging and turning of the heap provides a great deal of emotional relief for me. Resuming care of the compost heap has given me some renewed vibrancy. And a lot of mosquito bites.

And if you haven’t cared for your own soil, it’s amazing to see the soil change and grow richer.

In addition to the maintenance of the compost, I also cleaned my popcorn machine. I’m hoping maybe the 21-year-olds might want to have a movie night with popcorn sometime.

All those memories of pizza and popcorn from Target Café.

End of Summer Update

More than a month has passed again. Since I last blogged, I have taught three classes at Northampton Community College in their creative writing program. Well, it’s one class and I’ve taught for three weeks. I am the instructor for their publishing class, “Paths to Publication for the Aspiring Author.”

My falls have been minor. A little too frequent, but they typically classify as trips and I have managed not to significantly hurt myself when I go down. Though I hate that they are happening about every other week.

I had two of my four annual doctor visits– gynecologist yesterday and primary care provider today. I even got my pneumonia vaccine, since the recommendations have changed from age 65 to age 50. Shingles will be next.

I have officially lost ten pounds during the last year. It’s not as much progress as I would like to see, but it was enough to please my doctor. He says my efforts in weight, nutrition, rest and exercise will have a huge impact on my life in ten or twenty years.

Though I am still a big fall risk.

I did finally get some medication issues straightened out between CVS and my insurance company. The insurance company kept refusing to pay for my pills until my neurologist changed the dosage of the individual pills from 5 to 10 mg. If I need five, I need to cut them in half– but at least they are paid for!

Ruminations on a fall

It’s been a month this time– since my last entry and since my last fall. I wasn’t going to share this fall. I wanted to keep it to myself because it’s circumstances were mortifying enough. No need to share with the world.

But then a friend fell down the stairs. And I sent my regards, asked how she was feeling, and we had a conversation about the mental toll falls take.

I fall a lot.

Before my fall in July, I was thinking to myself, “It’s been about six months.” And I felt smug. And just now I went to my phone where my watch records hard falls and I manually enter the smaller one and I realized… for most of 2025, I have had a fall worthy of noting just about every month. And that “six months” I had in my mind– it was two months.

It felt like a lifetime.

Here’s the thing…

When something happens and a person falls, that person knows why it happened, brushes themselves off, and goes about their business. But when a scary fall happens… Well, maybe you just misjudged or your balance was off or your body didn’t do what you expected it to do… It’s not about injury. It’s about your body failing you.

It’s a special mind game when you can no longer trust your body.

Most people will experience this type of fall in their lifetime, and most of us will have more than one instance. Falls can often be the first sign that something is off.

It could be as simple as being tired, the kind that comes from not sleeping well or working too hard.

It could be blood pressure fluctuations or allergies impacting the sinuses.

It could be the failure of a certain muscle or neurological dysfunction.

And sometimes it could be a simple trip because your body couldn’t compensate as quickly as it needed to. (Or your eyesight failed and you didn’t see something you should have.)

These falls are terrifying. The mental anguish is more confusing and painful that the bruises or lacerations. The embarrassment, especially if you fall doing something simple, is so crushing.

My recent fall?

It barely left a mark on me. But, if I’m honest, it still reverberates through me even today, five days later.

Now, if you are reading this you probably know me or you’ve read some of my stuff before. I have a lot of eclectic interests so I’m not going to assume you’re here for or familiar with my disability content. But if you don’t know, I have diplegia spastic cerebral palsy, and I spend a good deal of my life as a fall risk.

I run a small publishing company putting out 10-12 books a year. I help freelance clients with their own book projects. I cover my county for a local political newsletter run by former staffers of our local daily newspaper. I write horror novels. And as of this fall, I am teaching a three-credit class at Northampton Community College.

But sometimes that’s not enough to pay the bills. So I have a part-time job in the evening.

And I fell at that job on Friday night.

In front of a LOT of people. But not one of my co-workers or supervisors saw, so that made me feel super vulnerable and invisible. On top of mortified.

And my daughter is livid, ranting about how I shouldn’t have been in a position alone where that could happen.

I’ve been under some stress, and my blood pressure has been all over the place with no logic. Allergies have been terrible. Some weeks I sleep decently, but last week I did not.

I walked about 3,000 steps in the 90 minutes before I fell, about 3.75 hours into a 4.5 hour shift. So I was certainly tired.

And even though I know and understand that I have falls, it still shakes me to the core when I have one. So, I can only imagine what it feels like when it’s not something that happens to you.

In other news, I may need to do a cat update soon. Our 14-year-old tripod cancer survivor is scheduled for euthasia Tuesday. This is the second cat I have lost in two months.

Some days go off the rails (or weird reasons why I didn’t get my work done)

Whether you’re a small business owner like me or a homemaker or someone who works a corporate 9 to 5 or whatever, it often feels impossible to make a dent in life’s responsibilities.

I think as I get older, and as one friend keeps reminding me I have a significant birthday coming up in May, I realize it doesn’t matter. Stuff eventually gets done or it doesn’t and the important/necessary stuff rises to the top.

Or maybe that’s just because I’m good at prioritizing and fairly awesome at time management.

The last week or so has been exhausting and/or exciting depending on your point of view. I’ve scheduled a storytelling/written word workshop with Larry Sceurman at Hellertown Library at the end of May. I’m strategizing a memoir workshop this summer in the suburbs of Philadelphia. I helped with and sold books at a storytelling event at Bethlehem’s Ice House (hosted by Patchwork Storytelling Guild). I sold books and talked with poets at the third annual Poet Palooza 3 at Book & Puppet Company in downtown Easton.

I received word that Lehigh Valley Community Foundation approved my application for a Pennsylvania Creative Entrepreneurship grant, which I will use for national and local advertising. I performed my duties as president at Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group and heard a fantastic presentation by Jill Peters.

And book orders have picked up. Still not to the level as last year, but enough to give me hope. I am finishing my local candidate profiles for Armchair Lehigh Valley.

Yesterday I went to the eye doctor and spent more than $500 for exam and glasses (at which point I was told, before being given the price, that they knocked 30% off everything because my insurance was crap). I tried on every pair of Parisian Phoenix pink glasses.

That got me thinking– as everything often does– that with glasses normally being updated every two years I pay about $30/month for eyesight.

And walking home from the eye doctor, I fell. So that sucked. But I’m fine, so yeah!

I received a call from my life insurance company today that I scheduled last week to convert my term life insurance into something more permanent. The bad news is, it’s probably going to cost triple my current policy. But that’s an conversation for me and another agent next week. Sigh. The insurance person kept me on the phone for 45 minutes and we may be continuing the conversation this weekend as she has an idea for a book.

In other news, my blind friend Nan received a print poetry book from a small press recently. We had ordered a braille one, and so I tracked down their email and reached out to see if there had been a mistake. Turns out they made an error so Nan will be getting her book. It felt good to resolve that and get her the book. And I wanted the small press to know there is a real need for these braille books.

Also today I applied for and received a business American Express. I’ve had a personal AmEx for quite some time but now the business is established enough that it can have and should have its own card. No more Ingram bills on my personal card. Yay! (And yes, I do have business banking, but the business account doesn’t always have the assets for large print orders.)

Finally, let me offer you this photo of Eva’s dog wearing Gayle’s sticker from Jury Duty.

Well… That’s a first

Every week, usually during the weekend, I walk down to my local CVS. It’s about a half mile away, and between my daughter and I, we usually have a prescription to retrieve. And if you buy items at CVS regularly, it triggers a variety of digital coupons that can have a domino effect and yield good deals.

Today I had about $5 in ExtraBucks, plus a $2 off a $12 purchase, plus some digital manufacturer coupons in the CVS app, and some product-specific CVS coupons that I planned to add to a 30% your full-price purchase coupon.

I bought a 90 count of Total Home kitchen trash bags (which were similar in price to a 100 bag box at Target), plus eight-gallon trash bags that were expensive for the number of bags in the box. BUT– I had a $5 off $15 coupon for Total Home trash liners AND the 30% total full-price purchase coupon, and the $20 box of 13-gallon bags would guarantee I hit the minimum after the 30% reduction.

Eva needed large bandages and some first aid cream, which was also full price. My bill came to about $43 and after coupons and discounts was $20.31.

On the walk home, I stumbled walking up my least favorite hill. I could feel my feet dragging but just didn’t have the strength to fight them. Here’s the odd thing– I lost my balance because my toes were dragging upward along the sidewalk. My arms went out, and normally at this point I do a bit of a corkscrew roll to minimize the damage as I attempt to fling myself onto grass.

But today something very unusual happened.

I recovered my balance. My hands hit the ground, but my body bent more like a hinge instead of crashing into the concrete. I didn’t even scrape my palms. I bent; I stood up. I walked home.

Never in my life have I recovered my balance once I put out my hands and braced for the fall.

Never. Ever.

Now, when I got up this morning, I gave myself a stern talking to because I did not go to 8:30 a.m. Boot Camp with Greg at Apex, my favorite local private gym. My back hurt and I was groggy and a host of other excuses. So I made myself promise that I would walk to CVS.

I need to do some straight leg deadlifts and other exercises for my back and legs but I’m not that motivated yet. And I stumbled at home trying to walk around the vacuum cleaner at the bottom of the stairs (Eva got a new vacuum cleaner, well, her third of the same model) and tripped after the CVS trip over a huge cardboard box right in front of my eyes. But neither led to a fall. Let me repeat, neither led to a fall.

I’m having more leg, hip and knee pain than usual, perhaps due to the dampness, the rain and the drop in temperature. Who knows?

I checked my phone and before I left for CVS in the first place my walking asymmetry spiked to 36% and before and after the near-miss fall registered at 2%. Now, let me reiterate (as my favorite doctor would say) that these phone figures are far from precise or even scientific, but they do seem to accurately reflect trends in my gait. My fall risk/walking steadiness consistently gets classified as “okay.”

But when you look at the last six months, you can see a drop. And while both are still within the range for “okay,” I wonder about it.

And for the record, last night, at my four-hour shift for my very part-time job that has somehow become 23 hours a week (thanks to some staffing issues and I can understand that), I worked at least five different positions.

I did some standing still, then a lot of walking around across a nice stretch of distance, and then I stood still some more until 2.5 hours into my shift, I was asked to cover a break delivering food inside the restaurant. At the beginning of that change, twice over the first five minutes, the asymmetry registered as seven percent. Did I notice it? No. Did it happen beyond those two instances? No. And after that 30 minutes, I went back to a position where I primarily stood still but also did a lot of stocking which meant moving to various storage locations and lifting boxes of various weights.

And the pace of the restaurant means my heart rate is usually between 120-130 for my whole shift. I noticed last night it reached 172 bpm. That’s my maximum heart rate at my age! My heart is supposed to be physically incapable of doing more than 170 bpm.

As I promised my doctor, I have been taking my allergy medicine, watching my blood pressure and taking the appropriate prescriptions and taking my baclofen. I’ve been good about taking at least 10 mg before my shifts.

PS– the anecdotal evidence is mounting that the Twinings Sleep + vanilla and cinnamon tea with melatonin not only tastes like a baked good, but it also increases the amount of deep sleep I get. I will still keep Traditional Medicinals Valerian in my rotation, but Twinings is a definite win.

PPS– I ate almost a whole can of salt & vinegar Pringles last night and gained a pound overnight. And because of how Omada measures your success as an average of the whole week, they have my weight listed as 163.5. It was 161.5 yesterday and 162.5 today.

Yesterday was hard

I don’t want to write this. I am tired and I want to go to bed and pray that I am not in too much pain to sleep. I won’t post it until tomorrow (Hence referring to today as yesterday in the title.)

Nothing bad happened. It was just a bad day physically, and it’s been a long time since a day hit me this hard.

I need to write about it though, because I am under strict instructions from my doctor to pay attention and note anything unusual because she’s heard some of my symptoms and said that if I were any other patient I’d be going for tests.

And if I don’t write this blog, I will forget today was a bad day physically.

It started nicely enough. Visted Nancy Scott and noticed then that climbing the stairs felt more stiff than usual.

Ate decently. Tried a sample meal replacement bar for breakfast and ate a HUGE brunch of potato, broccoli, multi color peppers, egg and feta. Had two pieces of licorice and a whole bunch of unsweetened and barely caffeinated tea.

I noticed while changing into my work uniform that my knuckles felt achy and weak and like I was about to injure my middle finger as I did with my mallet finger/sock incident of 2022. (If you want to read more about my mallet finger, click here.) This sensation returned again at the end of the night before I showered.

I took 10 mg of baclofen. In the morning, I took five.

Left for work at 1:30. So here’s the big reveal– in addition to my publishing company, I took what was supposed to be a very part-time job at Chick-Fil-A. My reasons for selecting that particular job were very specific. That might be a good topic for another post.

Once I arrive, I grab some Coke Zero. I usually stick to unsweetened iced tea or seltzer while I’m at the restaurant, but tonight I needed something a little extra. The back of my right thigh is spasming.

I started my shift running people their food inside the restaurant. It’s not my strongest position, but I like the movement. Then, I went to the drive-thru window for an hour, before I went back to running. My legs felt very heavy and clumsy the whole time.

Then, I went on break. And I ate a fruit cup. Everything still felt hard to move.(I walked a total of 15,000 steps today and two hours of my shift registered as exercise on my Apple Watch.) While outside I started stumbling, and twice I almost pelted some cars with bags of food.

And it was cold outside! Then, the icy rain started. Eventually, I got a poncho, and after about two hours I went inside and washed my hands for five straight minutes trying to get them warm again. At this point, my lower half hurts and I can’t bend and reach the floor.

And one of my supervisors accidentally clocks me in the cheekbone with his elbow. Hard.

I finally leave, and my phone alerts me that my heart rate is high. It hovered around 120-135 most of my shift. It usually does.

My toe hurts– not sure if I’m getting a blister or the toe I almost broke or the neuroma giving me trouble.

I came home, showered and made myself some food. And took 20 mg of baclofen. Making my grand total for the day 35 mg. I think. My blood pressure is also trending upward, at 112/78.

My phone says my average walking asymmetry for the day was 2.5 percent, but I noticed there was a lot of asymmetry. Often when my numbers are bad, they are a lot higher but only happen once. This was happening frequently. It looks like it was happening a dozen times an hour.

So, I came home wet, cold, stumbling and hurting.

I record this now to improve my memory of what the bad days feel like.

“Make Good Decisions”

I visited my neurologist/physiatrist yesterday for my four-month follow-up. Four months ago she recommended I join the Thrive medical fitness program with the hospital network. I met with her in November to discuss how I could move forward with exercise and strength training; I was scared that I would hurt myself working out alone.

According to her records, I lost six pounds! She was very happy to hear about and see for herself the gains I’d made in my strength. She reminded me that I was still “young enough” to keep making gains, whereas at a certain point the aging process makes it so that all we can do is maintain our strength.

I told her about my bumpy February, complete with several unexplained falls. She has some concerns about this, concerns that are mitigated by my fall-free March. I told her my theory that the change of seasons and sinus “stuff” might impact my balance– referring to my serious falls of March 2023– and reporting that I had not resumed taking my allergy medicine after a winter hiatus.

There are some other signs, some dealing with episodic urge incontinence and a recent bout of constipation, the strange weakness and sensations in my fingers, and my typical hyperreflexia that could suggest an issue with my spinal cord in my neck. So if anything changes or becomes more persistent, I have to let her know immediately and not “downplay” it. She referred to me as one of those patients who is “a trooper” and just keeps going.

So she wrote in my after visit summary as my main instruction to “make good decisions.”

How many of us could curtail a lot of our health problems if we followed that advice?

My next steps will be to focus on working out and continuing my progress with strength training and weight loss, reduce caffeine intake, and improve my cardiofitness. My next appointment is scheduled for the day after my cardiologist appointment, so hopefully I will have some positive trends to report to both of them.

My neurologist also made me promise that when I get my service dog, she gets to meet him/her sooner rather than later.

Balance Assessment at Susquehanna Service Dogs

About three years ago, Eva– my daughter, in the beginning of her career as a pet caregiver and dog trainer– said she wanted to train me a service dog. She wanted something to babysit me once she left home or when I was home alone.

She showed me some videos and I did some research and thought she had a point. When she leaves home, I will be a 50-something woman living alone with a history of falls and accidents. The presence of a dog in my life would keep me active and prevent spasticity issues, improve my gait as a dog’s gait never falters, and perform small tasks like bringing me my phone or picking items off the floor.

I have no doubt that with the right puppy and the time, Eva could train a service dog. But I suggested that for our first experience in the realm of service dogs, we should apply to an official service dog program.

Working with a program would teach us how the dogs are trained, give us support, guarantee good breeding and the physical fitness of the dog, and have some added legitimacy should people question my dog’s work.

Now there are no rules that prevent individuals from training their own service dogs. I think this is why one can encounter a variety of “fake” service dogs doing public access work. [I saw two service animals in the same restaurant this week. One looked like a well-trained Labradoodle with a handler who wasn’t cognizant of her surroundings. The Labradoodle was lying across the main floor area of the restaurant and not tucked under a table. The second was a small dog, perhaps some sort of schnauzer who barked and begged and whined and scratched at its owner’s leg for food the entire time. So, either that handler was having a medical emergency and the dog’s alerts were being ignored or the dog was not properly trained. A working dog should not make noise in public and it should not be distracted by food.]

I understand that training a dog with an agency or a professional trainer is expensive, but people who insist on using dogs for public access that are not properly trained make life harder for those people who have working dogs that don’t misbehave. Improperly trained dogs with public access are the dogs more prone to cause an incident with another dog.

And once I pay for my dog– which will take ALL of my savings– if that dog is attacked or threatened while working in public, that could impact its ability to do its job in the future. My dog might become afraid and unable to focus on its job. So I will have invested all of my money in a dog that won’t leave the house.

In the United States, there are no rules or governing agencies that regulate service dogs. There are, however, rules about what people can ask to a handler of a service dog– Does this dog do work that mitigates your disability? What tasks does the dog do? That’s it.

I have chronicled my service dog adventures on this blog. Here are most of the entries. (I am also working on a disability memoir.) There’s a lot to the process. My dog will be a light mobility dog.

They say the average placement takes four years start-to-finish. We filled out the application with Susquehanna Service Dogs in Summer 2022. I went to their facility and had an interview, fill out a survey of my life and health every six months, did an assessment while working with a dog where they recorded me, brought Eva with me to do public access work in a mall, passed a home visit, collaborated with a case worker to develop a plan of what my dog would actually need to do, and now yesterday, I went back to the facility with Eva for a balance assessment.

They had a mobility professional join us– I believe she was a physical therapist– and I worked with the dog and showed them how I get up off the floor and answered questions about my life and recent fall history. I love when Eva can come because she can tell them her insights. Apparently, she was annoyed because physically I was having a good day yesterday.

I worked with Captain. What we learned was that my dog will need to walk on my right. The dogs are trained to walk on the left, but when the dog is on my left I struggle to walk in a straight line. When the dog is on my right, my posture and ambulation is much more natural.

We also decided that my dog will be guided by a leash, versus a strap or a mobility harness. A mobility harness is rigid and has the most feedback between human and dog. In the photos, I am using a red strap on the far right. The strap was okay, and it’s an intermediary step between the harness and the leash, but it didn’t feel natural. (And the benefit of using leash only is that it gives the dog more freedom and space to get out of the way when I fall. Some dogs are trained to do things when a handler starts to fall, but I want my dog out of the way.)

It also seems like I’m at the proper place in the timeline. The next step: When they have a group of dogs that are flexible enough to work on the right and the right size to work with me, I will get to meet them. It might take a few meetings to find the right dog. Once the right dog is selected and assigned, I believe they will do any specialized training while boarding on site and then I go to their facility for a three-week training session.

The dog itself has to be two-years-old and fully grown and cleared by a veterinarian before entering the work force. Moibility dogs have some of the hardest and most physical jobs out there for service dogs.

Unexplained falls and bad timing

I can’t even begin to articulate what I am feeling these days because what I’m feeling is a range of highs and lows.

I’m editing books, planning presentations, talking with writers about their books—- and still dealing with blood pressure fluctuations and high heart rate notifications.

We haven’t had heat so far this winter and the outdoor temperature this week has been highs of the low thirties and lows in the twenties. The interior of my home has been 45 degrees in the morning.

With any luck, the part for the furnace will arrive tomorrow and my repair is scheduled for Wednesday morning.

And even that, I handled well. Until I fell this morning. A real fall. An unexplained fall.

My AppleWatch didn’t even notice and I hit my head hard enough I scared myself.

I had made myself a beautiful egg and yellow pepper omelette that ended up on the floor with me. I ate it anyway.

I turned to carry my plate into the dining room and stumbled and went down as if I didn’t even at feet beyond my ankles.

I felt so vulnerable for the rest of the day I curled up on the couch and alternated between episodes of 1,000 Pound Sisters and The Sopranos.

Tying for gold at Lucky Strokes Mini Golf

Earlier this week, I got a text message from Mr. Accordion.

Mr. Accordion and I were roommates during my tenure at a certain nonprofit that suffered from toxic management. It’s funny though how life leads a person on a meandering path, and we end up gaining things from experiences that hurt us at the time. I have current clients who connected with me because of that job. I ended up at Stitch Fix because of that job. And I published my novel as a distraction when I lost that job. So many of the circumstances that led to the success of Parisian Phoenix Publishing launched from a very stressful and agonizing work environment, where I shared an office with Mr. Accordion.

Mr. Accordion retired, and he has spent the last four years at various part-time jobs and spending time with his family. I have only known him about five years, but in that time he has always had a joke to share, leads on good food, and a genuine care for other people.

And the other day he invited Eva-the-no-longer-a-teenager and I for pizza and mini-golf. And who am I to say no to pizza and mini-golf? The venue in question was Lucky Strokes mini golf and driving range and Isabella’s Pizza.

They had a strange, vintage upholstered chair in the parking lot with a “free” sign and a school bus with a giant target painted on it in the back of the driving range, if I saw correctly at 175 yards.

The no-longer-a-teenager and I arrived and ordered a medium pizza with capicola and artichokes.

And after some conversation with Mr. Accordion, Eva and I hit the golf range. Now, I did set my Apple Watch to “golf” (and Omada gave me credit for “sports”). It took us 37 minutes to play all 18 holes. (In part because the people ahead of us where having some intense discussion about his marriage and how his wife wasn’t taking the couples counseling seriously. At least, that’s what Eva heard. How she heard that without her hearing aids, I don’t know.

It looked to me like the worst first date ever. She looked disinterested with her back turned, sipping her soda. He would not shut up about himself or his wife. And every time you looked at them, he was standing over to the side with his putter over his shoulder and his ball on the other side of the green.

Immediately, Eva noticed two things:

  1. I don’t even remotely line up the putter correctly.
  2. I was swarmed by small harmless bee creatures.

And then while following my little pink ball around I fell up an incline and ended up crawling around the artificial turf on my hands and knees. Speaking of my knees, my knees and legs refused enough to let me get the ball out of the hole at each green.

Instead of keeping traditional score, we kept score of who landed each hole first, and who won each hole. We ended up trying, 8 holes each with two ties. None of which would have been possible without Eva’s golfing lessons. And her tendency to sometimes hit the ball so hard I feared she might have landed it on the next green.

And I think I had a hole in one, but now I don’t remember.

On the way home we stopped at The Spot for ice cream. I haven’t been to The Spot since my Stitch Fix days.

I had a dusty road sundae.