You first have to know how ornery Jip can get these days over the small stuff, in order to appreciate my joy at seeing her guffaw last night at her brother’s wedding reception. We were surrounded by party noises and strange smells that normally would have caused her to complain, but at this event her radar was apparently turned off, or at least disabled by the nice welcome she received from family and friends.
Her uncle, a jolly fellow whom we haven’t seen for several years, sought Jip out amidst the crowd at the restaurant, and soon had her in stitches. On hearing his voice, she initially put her hands together at eye level in a traditional Thai wai, or greeting of respect. I hadn’t seen her do that for anyone else throughout the fifteen-plus months we’ve been in the country.
He waved away such formality by urging her to reach out and feel his belly, which has expanded a little during his retirement. The two of them then traded news of various cousins, leading Jip to bust up over private jokes that I couldn’t follow. Soon Lek’s father came around to say hello—Jip had never met him, but was pleased to be introduced, because I had brought back such a nice report about the welcome he gave us all at the wedding in the countryside last month.
Each time that I thought to myself that perhaps we had overstayed—as when a waitress dropped a tray, or when someone suggested that we move indoors and away from the river, to where we could hear the live band—Jip took things in stride and simply smiled, rather than wrinkling up her forehead in the expression that I’ve come to recognize as the precursor to a mood swing.
Right up until the time we left by taxi for the short ride to the party, I half expected Jip to say that she had changed her mind and wasn’t interested. But apparently her feelings for Chao and Lek carried the day, or at least overrode the concern she had expressed earlier in the day that “people will be drinking beer there!”
In the end we hung out for about twice as long as I had expected we would. Jip was fawned over by Lek’s sisters and by her niece. Nothing seemed to rattle her, not even when, on the way home, our taxi driver reached over to reline her seat and it zipped backward much faster than anyone expected. She just laughed again, and I remembered how sweet it is to hear that sound.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Saturday, September 09, 2006
High-end Living
Now that we’ve been here a few days, it seems like a really good deal. Once again we’re living pretty large. I had missed some of the details initially, while I was focused on door widths, waling around with a tape measure. But now I see how well everything works in this place, how luxurious it is, and what a nice view it has.
It seems that the previous owner of this place had been a wealthy retired businessman. He apparently had some stiff limbs, which explains the multiple bathtubs; and a fondness for video, thus the windowless in-home theater room, complete with padded walls. But he also must have been a bit paranoid … would you believe there are hidden cameras and bulletproof glass?
So at best we’re well protected, and at worse we’re under constant surveillance. The main thing for me is that Jip hasn’t said anything negative. At our old place she had a few pet peeves that she couldn’t let go of; now, she either hasn’t had time to invent any complaints, or the air and the lack of construction noise at night truly are better.
Why not come see for yourself?
It seems that the previous owner of this place had been a wealthy retired businessman. He apparently had some stiff limbs, which explains the multiple bathtubs; and a fondness for video, thus the windowless in-home theater room, complete with padded walls. But he also must have been a bit paranoid … would you believe there are hidden cameras and bulletproof glass?
So at best we’re well protected, and at worse we’re under constant surveillance. The main thing for me is that Jip hasn’t said anything negative. At our old place she had a few pet peeves that she couldn’t let go of; now, she either hasn’t had time to invent any complaints, or the air and the lack of construction noise at night truly are better. Why not come see for yourself?
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Apartment Hunting
The deal here is you have to live nearby where you work. Bangkok traffic is so unforgiving that any other arrangement is a recipe for stress.
Yet Jip and I have a few unusual housing requirements, which turned out to be hard to meet near the Ministry of Public Health. Our specs include wide doors and deep elevators. The standard measurements here are often too tight for a wheelchair, except in a few buildings that maybe were constructed with foreigners in mind.
We also wanted a three bedroom place, because it has worked well this past year to have a room for the caregivers to call their own, even if they don’t sleep there. But Thai families don’t usually get that much privacy and personal space, so apartments that roomy are rare where I was first looking.
The real estate agent who helped us a year ago said he didn’t know that end of town very well. My online searches didn’t generate many leads. So I switched game plans and started looking on my own in a neighborhood halfway between our old apartment and my work. I just walked around in larger and larger circles until I saw a sign announcing an apartment for rent.
At first glance the place didn’t seem too special or fancy, but the rooms were big enough and the street was quiet. I called the agent again to ask him to negotiate for me (with housing, as with vegetables, the first price is not the final price here). To my surprise, he agreed to coach me, but nothing more. He said he had a good feeling about the landlady, and that I might do better on my own than he could do.
I felt like a kid who gets told that he has to start doing some chores around the house. I was so nervous about blowing it that I wrote out a whole script before I called to bargain. Just as I’d been coached, I told her not to decide right away, but instead to take a day or two to think about my offer. Amazingly, she called me back and agreed to the 20% cut I’d proposed.
Yet Jip and I have a few unusual housing requirements, which turned out to be hard to meet near the Ministry of Public Health. Our specs include wide doors and deep elevators. The standard measurements here are often too tight for a wheelchair, except in a few buildings that maybe were constructed with foreigners in mind.
We also wanted a three bedroom place, because it has worked well this past year to have a room for the caregivers to call their own, even if they don’t sleep there. But Thai families don’t usually get that much privacy and personal space, so apartments that roomy are rare where I was first looking.
The real estate agent who helped us a year ago said he didn’t know that end of town very well. My online searches didn’t generate many leads. So I switched game plans and started looking on my own in a neighborhood halfway between our old apartment and my work. I just walked around in larger and larger circles until I saw a sign announcing an apartment for rent.
At first glance the place didn’t seem too special or fancy, but the rooms were big enough and the street was quiet. I called the agent again to ask him to negotiate for me (with housing, as with vegetables, the first price is not the final price here). To my surprise, he agreed to coach me, but nothing more. He said he had a good feeling about the landlady, and that I might do better on my own than he could do.
I felt like a kid who gets told that he has to start doing some chores around the house. I was so nervous about blowing it that I wrote out a whole script before I called to bargain. Just as I’d been coached, I told her not to decide right away, but instead to take a day or two to think about my offer. Amazingly, she called me back and agreed to the 20% cut I’d proposed.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
New Digs
We’ve been busy moving to a new part of town, setting up new routines and phone numbers and Internet access and so on. In a way it feels as though we’ve finally moved to Thailand.
Our old place was surrounded by lots of conveniences that made it a perfect place to land when we were fresh from the States. But those same amenities sometimes made me feel as if we could have been anywhere in the world: the international signage, the English-speaking pharmacists, the five-star hotels.
The new neighborhood has a bit more Thai soul. On our first day here I saw monks making their morning rounds, and I thought “Oh, yeah—I almost forgot they did that in this country.” Nearly everyone in our new apartment building is Thai.
Glittery coffee shops and fitness centers are still within walking distance, but along the way I now have the option of buying veggies and fruit from sidewalk vendors instead of supermarkets. And I never see those short-term couples anymore that were so common in our old neighborhood: older Western men and Thai women, separated by about forty years, holding hands but somehow not on the same planet.
Our old place was surrounded by lots of conveniences that made it a perfect place to land when we were fresh from the States. But those same amenities sometimes made me feel as if we could have been anywhere in the world: the international signage, the English-speaking pharmacists, the five-star hotels.
The new neighborhood has a bit more Thai soul. On our first day here I saw monks making their morning rounds, and I thought “Oh, yeah—I almost forgot they did that in this country.” Nearly everyone in our new apartment building is Thai.
Glittery coffee shops and fitness centers are still within walking distance, but along the way I now have the option of buying veggies and fruit from sidewalk vendors instead of supermarkets. And I never see those short-term couples anymore that were so common in our old neighborhood: older Western men and Thai women, separated by about forty years, holding hands but somehow not on the same planet.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Bummer
I went up to Chiang Mai for a few days of r&r, and came back to find Jip had her first-ever bedsore. This discovery was discouraging, although not completely shocking. The books all say that skin problems are common in people who spend long periods in the same position. So far we’d been fortunate, probably because Jip stays pretty active for somebody with her abilities.
The trouble with bedsores is that they take forever to heal, because by definition they are located where the body meets the bed. If you don’t fix them right the first time, they come back again and again.
Happily, Lek’s sister is a nursing professor (she and Jip trained together, way back when). She taught me and the caregivers a few treatment and prevention tips. I also called another of Jip’s nursing classmates, a woman who has come by to see us pretty regularly. Her specialty happens to be older people, who are more likely to encounter this problem. She knew all about some special water-filled mattress pads. The next day she sent us one through a mutual friend who happens to work where I work.
So we’re still well looked after. When we first contemplated moving to Thailand, my biggest hesitation was that we would be leaving behind the remarkable network of caring friends and family who helped us out in so many ways. I still don’t think we’ll ever duplicate that combination of wisdom and kindness. But perhaps slowly, in a way that works for this setting, a group with similar instincts is beginning to form.
The trouble with bedsores is that they take forever to heal, because by definition they are located where the body meets the bed. If you don’t fix them right the first time, they come back again and again.
Happily, Lek’s sister is a nursing professor (she and Jip trained together, way back when). She taught me and the caregivers a few treatment and prevention tips. I also called another of Jip’s nursing classmates, a woman who has come by to see us pretty regularly. Her specialty happens to be older people, who are more likely to encounter this problem. She knew all about some special water-filled mattress pads. The next day she sent us one through a mutual friend who happens to work where I work.
So we’re still well looked after. When we first contemplated moving to Thailand, my biggest hesitation was that we would be leaving behind the remarkable network of caring friends and family who helped us out in so many ways. I still don’t think we’ll ever duplicate that combination of wisdom and kindness. But perhaps slowly, in a way that works for this setting, a group with similar instincts is beginning to form.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Welcomed In
In addition to being my in-laws, Chao and Lek have become good friends this past year. So it was especially easy to feel comfortable at their wedding. Most everything took place above the bookshop that Lek and her father run in a medium-sized town a couple of hours east of Bangkok. When I first walked in, I expected the usual formalities: scurrying for extra chairs, offers of hot drinks along with the standard glass of water, maybe some fish snacks.
But I didn’t count on the warmth of the smile on Lek’s father’s face, as he came forward to greet me. I was reminded of our old friend from the refugee camp days, Papa Louis: the two hands outstretched in a sort of “handshake hug,” the sparkling eyes fed by classic creases, the gift of making everyone feel as though they are the only ones in the room. I will remember that welcome most of all.
The next morning, Chao’s side of the family all gathered down the street from the bookshop, for the groom parade. I really enjoy this custom, in which the groom acts as a kind of suitor, backed by his supporters, who traditionally would be arriving from a neighboring village. A good yodeler brings up the rear, leading cheers that announce to passersby that an appeal for marriage is being made.
(Jip chose to rely on my after-the-fact descriptions, rather than contend with all the unfamiliar voices and obstacles of a fast-paced event like a wedding. She says that if they ever throw a small party in the city, for others like her who couldn’t make it to a mid-week event in the provinces, she’ll make an appearance.)
Once the parade reaches the bride’s front door, traditionally a few pretend obstacles are put up to block the path. A groom must use his wits, and perhaps a few clever bribes, to get past the barriers. Once he succeeds, in essence he is married. No pronouncing by a priest, or smashing of wine glasses—just acceptance by the bride’s father that the visitor is worthy, and can stay.
But I didn’t count on the warmth of the smile on Lek’s father’s face, as he came forward to greet me. I was reminded of our old friend from the refugee camp days, Papa Louis: the two hands outstretched in a sort of “handshake hug,” the sparkling eyes fed by classic creases, the gift of making everyone feel as though they are the only ones in the room. I will remember that welcome most of all.
The next morning, Chao’s side of the family all gathered down the street from the bookshop, for the groom parade. I really enjoy this custom, in which the groom acts as a kind of suitor, backed by his supporters, who traditionally would be arriving from a neighboring village. A good yodeler brings up the rear, leading cheers that announce to passersby that an appeal for marriage is being made.
(Jip chose to rely on my after-the-fact descriptions, rather than contend with all the unfamiliar voices and obstacles of a fast-paced event like a wedding. She says that if they ever throw a small party in the city, for others like her who couldn’t make it to a mid-week event in the provinces, she’ll make an appearance.)
Once the parade reaches the bride’s front door, traditionally a few pretend obstacles are put up to block the path. A groom must use his wits, and perhaps a few clever bribes, to get past the barriers. Once he succeeds, in essence he is married. No pronouncing by a priest, or smashing of wine glasses—just acceptance by the bride’s father that the visitor is worthy, and can stay.
Clued In
Recently I’ve been to two funerals, a graduation, and a wedding. After the latest of these milestone occasions, the knot-tying of Jip’s younger brother Chao and his wife Lek, it struck me that I had mostly known beforehand how to behave, 
even though the traditions differ slightly from those in the States.
Not only does being confident about Thai ways feel good, it’s also nice to be included, treated as Jip’s representative, or just as part of the family. Over time I must have picked up enough of the protocol by osmosis that I don’t have to ask too many questions about what to wear and how to sit and when to wai. I’m not saying I’ve gone native, just that I feel less and less like an outsider.
The funerals were for people I hadn’t known, parents of colleagues at work. Most everyone at the office put in an appearance at least once during these traditionally multi-evening affairs. In one case the event took place at a huge temple where many other funerals were going on simultaneously. As we entered, we had to consult a blackboard for a list of which family was using which room.
Jip’s niece Boe graduated from college. I joined her parents, whom Jip and I have seen only once since our arrival back in Thailand, and a few relatives from her mother’s side, for photos in the morning and a dinner at an outdoor restaurant after the ceremony. Boe basked in the attention, especially when a large group of undergraduates surrounded her, linked shoulders, and shouted out a traditional good luck cheer.
even though the traditions differ slightly from those in the States.Not only does being confident about Thai ways feel good, it’s also nice to be included, treated as Jip’s representative, or just as part of the family. Over time I must have picked up enough of the protocol by osmosis that I don’t have to ask too many questions about what to wear and how to sit and when to wai. I’m not saying I’ve gone native, just that I feel less and less like an outsider.
The funerals were for people I hadn’t known, parents of colleagues at work. Most everyone at the office put in an appearance at least once during these traditionally multi-evening affairs. In one case the event took place at a huge temple where many other funerals were going on simultaneously. As we entered, we had to consult a blackboard for a list of which family was using which room.
Jip’s niece Boe graduated from college. I joined her parents, whom Jip and I have seen only once since our arrival back in Thailand, and a few relatives from her mother’s side, for photos in the morning and a dinner at an outdoor restaurant after the ceremony. Boe basked in the attention, especially when a large group of undergraduates surrounded her, linked shoulders, and shouted out a traditional good luck cheer.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
So Where Were We Really?
To follow along on the journey that Joy and I took, look up “Samut Songkhram” in your favorite atlas or on Google Earth. If you’ve got a really good info source, you’ll discover that this part of the country is home to endless fields of salt, or at least that’s what “grows” there during the right season, which the current one is not.
Apparently the windmills we saw in the distance are used to help get salt water over the earthworks and into the paddies, where it is allowed to evaporate and leave behind a thick layer of white crystals. These are then raked into little salt mountains for further drying by people who have among the sweatiest jobs on the planet.
We hopped off the train too early—distracted by salt fields?—and had to catch up by hopping a motorcycle to a ferry, which took us across a river to Samut Sakhon. The people there acted as if they’d never heard a foreigner speak Thai before. This was quite good for my ego.
Seven or eight hours after setting out, we arrived back in Bangkok, but on the far side of town from where Jip and I live. For a few minutes we waited along a canal to catch a long-tailed boat that we thought might provide our seventh different kind of public transportation. But some tattooed boys who were diving backwards off the pier told us we’d missed the last one of the day, so we settle for a tuk-tuk instead. We both felt we’d gotten out of whatever ruts we’d been in.
Apparently the windmills we saw in the distance are used to help get salt water over the earthworks and into the paddies, where it is allowed to evaporate and leave behind a thick layer of white crystals. These are then raked into little salt mountains for further drying by people who have among the sweatiest jobs on the planet.
We hopped off the train too early—distracted by salt fields?—and had to catch up by hopping a motorcycle to a ferry, which took us across a river to Samut Sakhon. The people there acted as if they’d never heard a foreigner speak Thai before. This was quite good for my ego.
Seven or eight hours after setting out, we arrived back in Bangkok, but on the far side of town from where Jip and I live. For a few minutes we waited along a canal to catch a long-tailed boat that we thought might provide our seventh different kind of public transportation. But some tattooed boys who were diving backwards off the pier told us we’d missed the last one of the day, so we settle for a tuk-tuk instead. We both felt we’d gotten out of whatever ruts we’d been in.
The Local
I figure Joy and I logged about 100 miles, give or take, which to me qualifies as getting out of the rut. At one stage we were forced to literally hop a train as it chugged through what minutes before had been a fully functioning market along its tracks. Vendors pulled back (just far enough) the awnings and umbrellas that had been shading them all afternoon, as the two-car train passed centimeters away from their produce and fish.
Being veteran travelers, we figured out after about half an hour that this was not the express. Most of the other passengers weren’t heading all the way into Bangkok, but instead waited for their village to come into view and then started hauling a week’s worth of purchases toward the open door.
Eventually Joy’s seatmate got up as if the next stop were hers. As the train slid into a station she surprised me by flinging a full bag full of papayas onto the platform. Many of our fellow voyagers followed suit, tossing fruit of every description through the windows. Yet not a soul stepped down out of the train, for fear of being bowled over by monkeys. At the first sight of the too-ripe food, a stampede descended from who knows where to begin what apparently is a regularly scheduled feast.
Being veteran travelers, we figured out after about half an hour that this was not the express. Most of the other passengers weren’t heading all the way into Bangkok, but instead waited for their village to come into view and then started hauling a week’s worth of purchases toward the open door.
Eventually Joy’s seatmate got up as if the next stop were hers. As the train slid into a station she surprised me by flinging a full bag full of papayas onto the platform. Many of our fellow voyagers followed suit, tossing fruit of every description through the windows. Yet not a soul stepped down out of the train, for fear of being bowled over by monkeys. At the first sight of the too-ripe food, a stampede descended from who knows where to begin what apparently is a regularly scheduled feast.
A Day Out
We’ve been here long enough now to have outlasted some of the regulars in the neighborhood. A few of the familiar faces at the markets and along the sidewalks have begun to turn over, and many of the other tenants in our building have moved on to some other city or hemisphere. In a word, we’re achieving veteran status. Clearly it’s time to stir the stew.
Luckily an old acquaintance provided me an excuse to do just that. Joy Patman passed through on summer break from Seattle Schools—she and I taught together way back in the day—and we spent a delightful afternoon-into-evening traveling to the end of the line, hopping a new mode of transportation to see where it would take us, and then doing it all over again. Before we were through, we could claim SkyTrain, taxi, long-distance bus, two regular trains, a motorcycle, a ferry, and a tuk-tuk.
(Speaking of those two-stroke marvels, if you haven’t been following the misadventures of the two English lasses who are traveling from Bangkok to England in a pink tuk-tuk they’ve named Ting Tong, then drop everything right now and follow this link. You’ll be well rewarded.)
Luckily an old acquaintance provided me an excuse to do just that. Joy Patman passed through on summer break from Seattle Schools—she and I taught together way back in the day—and we spent a delightful afternoon-into-evening traveling to the end of the line, hopping a new mode of transportation to see where it would take us, and then doing it all over again. Before we were through, we could claim SkyTrain, taxi, long-distance bus, two regular trains, a motorcycle, a ferry, and a tuk-tuk.
(Speaking of those two-stroke marvels, if you haven’t been following the misadventures of the two English lasses who are traveling from Bangkok to England in a pink tuk-tuk they’ve named Ting Tong, then drop everything right now and follow this link. You’ll be well rewarded.)
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Ask Her for Her Autograph
Here’s Jip at the standing frame, imitating her favorite Major League pitchers. (Talent scouts please note: throws both right and left.) Though she hadn’t used the device for more than a year, as soon as she was vertical again, instinct took over and she began limbering up.
Reassembling this specialized piece equipment was made easier by a great set of directions written out by Greg. (Step number 4 reads: “Woo hoo! The tricky bits are now over! Have a Singha on me”!) He had taken it apart and helped ship it, after storing it for nearly a year in the basement.
At first Jip’s posture seemed off. I began tinkering with all the adjustable pads and levers, but somehow I couldn’t get them lined up so that her body was standing at attention. She was unusually patient—a sign of how important this activity is to her—as I sweated and swore and wished for a professional to come to my rescue.
In desperation I emailed the manufacturer. I confess my expectations for a helpful reply were low. But in less than 24 hours I had heard back, from the company vice president no less:
… It sounds to me like you have an issue with the knee placement or the sling strap length … forward me your serial number … take a picture of her from each side and from the back … If I can see her in the unit I can tell you what adjustments need to be done, no problem.
Who says you can’t get good customer service these days?
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Ask Me for My Autograph
Middle age has made me thin enough up on top that I decided there was no point in trying to grow hair there anymore. So I walked into a barber shop yesterday and asked for the Zidane look. The row of haircutters, all going through World Cup withdrawal, knew exactly what I meant. They got out the clipper attachment number one, and pretty soon I could almost have passed for the head-butter himself. Can you tell who is who?
Monday, July 10, 2006
Anniversary
Today marks a year since our arrival in Bangkok. Immigrants, I find, almost always remember the day they first passed through customs. It is a kind of birthday, I suppose.
I confess that when we first came I thought it might be a short stay, that Jip wasn’t really going the right direction, that Thailand wasn’t necessarily going to improve her health any. But recently I watched her harness up in the standing frame for the first time since we’ve been here (it took me a few days to piece it all back together) and I thought, my god, she’s stronger than she was THREE years ago, let alone the day we showed up here. It really is remarkable how her physical health has steadied, and perhaps even made some gains, in this weather, which we’d been told so long to avoid.
We’ve been to see a doctor exactly twice over the year, once to simply introduce ourselves to a general practitioner, the second time to fix yet another hyponatremia episode. Granted, that second trip was a serious event, requiring a couple nights in the hospital, but even so, it was much simpler to deal with in Bangkok than it would have been in the States. And Jip has shown zero interest in visiting a neurologist, even though I’m told that there are several good ones in town, some who even have experience with her condition. A few folks have speculated that there is an Asian version of the disease, which for all we know prefers hot conditions to what we lived with in Seattle.
Thailand has also steadied me. My blood pressure is likely lower than it’s been for some time, certainly lower than during the fast and furious days just before and after we flew here. The pace then was pretty quick, as we emptied a house and looked for an apartment, at the same time that we were combining so many goodbyes with so many introductions. Today, the same nice place we’ve lived in all along here still serves us well, as do the same two young women, who still come every twelve hours, six days a week, to take care of Jip.
I confess that when we first came I thought it might be a short stay, that Jip wasn’t really going the right direction, that Thailand wasn’t necessarily going to improve her health any. But recently I watched her harness up in the standing frame for the first time since we’ve been here (it took me a few days to piece it all back together) and I thought, my god, she’s stronger than she was THREE years ago, let alone the day we showed up here. It really is remarkable how her physical health has steadied, and perhaps even made some gains, in this weather, which we’d been told so long to avoid.
We’ve been to see a doctor exactly twice over the year, once to simply introduce ourselves to a general practitioner, the second time to fix yet another hyponatremia episode. Granted, that second trip was a serious event, requiring a couple nights in the hospital, but even so, it was much simpler to deal with in Bangkok than it would have been in the States. And Jip has shown zero interest in visiting a neurologist, even though I’m told that there are several good ones in town, some who even have experience with her condition. A few folks have speculated that there is an Asian version of the disease, which for all we know prefers hot conditions to what we lived with in Seattle.
Thailand has also steadied me. My blood pressure is likely lower than it’s been for some time, certainly lower than during the fast and furious days just before and after we flew here. The pace then was pretty quick, as we emptied a house and looked for an apartment, at the same time that we were combining so many goodbyes with so many introductions. Today, the same nice place we’ve lived in all along here still serves us well, as do the same two young women, who still come every twelve hours, six days a week, to take care of Jip.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Training: Chugging Along
Jip’s standing frame arrived this week, so she’s ready to get vertical again. Exercise is already a high priority for her, sometimes taking up two or three hours of the afternoon. Adding this old friend to her arsenal of equipment will probably increase her appetite even more.
Look over these pics of her doing some trunk twisting on the edge of the bed. Even though she still doesn’t have complete control over those muscles, her balance is pretty good. I hardly needed to support her at all.
My exercise routine is also changing slightly. I have a new running partner, in the tradition of the early morning weekend club that supported me in countless ways when we lived in Seattle. This guy is more serious than I am, and seems to handle the climate better, but we each manage to get what we need out of the arrangement.
He meets me at the corner shortly before 6am, at which point he’s already run for twenty minutes. Then we run to a large park, where we do a lap together. Then I rest for 11 minutes (his stopwatch) while he does another lap. Finally we run back to our place, I quit, and he continues on home for another twenty minutes. Everybody wins!
Look over these pics of her doing some trunk twisting on the edge of the bed. Even though she still doesn’t have complete control over those muscles, her balance is pretty good. I hardly needed to support her at all.
My exercise routine is also changing slightly. I have a new running partner, in the tradition of the early morning weekend club that supported me in countless ways when we lived in Seattle. This guy is more serious than I am, and seems to handle the climate better, but we each manage to get what we need out of the arrangement.
He meets me at the corner shortly before 6am, at which point he’s already run for twenty minutes. Then we run to a large park, where we do a lap together. Then I rest for 11 minutes (his stopwatch) while he does another lap. Finally we run back to our place, I quit, and he continues on home for another twenty minutes. Everybody wins!
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