Kilcullen retreat

Since I last wrote, I've finished spring semester, tripped off to Padre Island, returned home to spend a few days frantically doing all the things that have to be done when one goes away for a month including a visit to the joint doc, flown to Ireland, and snuggled into the cozy attic over the barber shop.

I was cheered to see the doc's face glow with approval at my healing knee. Amazing progress, he said, "considering all the work we did in there." I'm still being careful, though now my right knee is complaining. The stairs up to the shop, plus the stepladder into the attic, make a lot of work for the good knee as I spare the healing one. The "good" knee is only good in comparison. Meanwhile, the scoped knee is feeling stronger by the day. I use an exercise bike daily, slowly increasing time and speed, and I take walks, as long and hilly as I can manage.

I've slowly started yoga again. I never really quit doing forward bends and limited back bends... and some meditation. Lately I've added down dogs, triangle; then tonight I finally got down on the floor to discover I can't sit with bent knees any more. Well, keep trying, and meanwhile assorted twists, bridge, etc.

I've spent weeks mulling over my next move: Ireland? France? Gainesville? Portland?

Today I've settled on emigrating to France (yes, back to the original plan). So my plan when I get back to Phoenix is to concentrate on yoga, finish my yoga teaching certification, relearn the French I've forgotten in the two years since my last visit, figure out how to go to France and set the wheels in motion. Oh, yeah, and teach that five-week biology swan song in July. Hooahhhh!

But in the back of mind the PhD option niggles at me, along with the odd nostalgia for Oregon and Florida and parts unseen. I figure it'll take me a couple of years to make the move, so I must spend that time spreading myself around, roadtripping with Prius and doggie while my rapper-son finishes school and liberates himself from my pocketbook.