I continue with PT on my shoulder. I have gained a lot of range of motion but I am not where I want to be yet It’s been six months. When I walk through the doors at my PT center, I feel like Norm from Cheers. Everybody knows my name.

Fred and Jo have been caring for me well and I will miss them if I ever get to stop going to PT. They are very cheery. No matter how much they make me wince, they keep on smiling.

Every time I go, Jo has written a new joke of the day or riddle on the whiteboard. Today’s was, “how do you tie a knot in a string while holding one end in each hand without letting go?”

I have literally been practicing to respond to this riddle all of my life. I told her that my dad is a magician and I know how to do it. She said she did, too, and demonstrated. It was not elegant like my dad taught me.

“Let the magician’s daughter show you how it’s done,” I said. I took her rope and made my dad proud. Voilà!

Fred was entranced. He had to know how to do it. I showed them several times, just like my dad always did. Then one at a time, I handed them the rope and watched them fail. This was the most fun I ever had at PT!

I took pity on Fred. He kept coming up to me and asking me to show him one more time. He interrupted my pulley workout, my weights. and my stretches. Finally, I did it in slow motion, and before long Fred, too, was ever so clumsily tying a knot in the rope. He was so proud. I told him now he needed to practice. “Give me 10 reps,” I said. “Maybe you’ll master this before I’m released from here forever.”

There are some bright spots in these PT days after all!

They say you can’t go home again. I don’t know who they are or why they don’t want me to go home. They aren’t the boss of me!

I was born and raised in Maryland. The two houses I lived in are still there, and when I drive past them I know in my head they aren’t my home. But my heart still keeps a piece of them. The first house is occupied by a lovely woman who let us go in and look around during a trip a dozen years ago. This house was probably built in the 1930s. I lived there until I was five, but since my grandparents lived across the street from it, I remember it well – at least the outside.

Bob and I moved to Florida in 1976, and it definitely is home. I can’t think of another place where I would rather live, but there are a few things that tug at me when it comes to Maryland – or should I say bite at my toes, get under my fingernails, and make me reach for a mallet. And those things are connected with summer, so when Bob and I decided to take a trip to Hilton Head, South Carolina, to celebrate his retirement with our entire clan, it was only natural that I asked if he and I could pop up to the Maryland area for dinner on our way home. After all, we were halfway there!

Bob was game! What better way to both celebrate his retirement and get some rest, after a week of 18 of us together in the same house, than a road trip for a steamed crab feast. (Side note: if you’ve followed me for a while, you may know that I am directionally challenged. True, I will make a face if you tell me to go east toward a destination when you could have simply said – turn right! And, I am aware that Maryland and Virginia are not on the way home to Florida, but sometimes one simply must take the scenic route if only for gastronomic reasons.)

After nine hours on the road, we landed in Williamsburg, Virginia. Again, I know this is not Maryland, but this destination seemed close enough to our longed-for crab feast. When I was a kid, blue crabs were easy to come by. We were confident we would have no trouble locating some. We were wrong.

Suddenly, I was lamenting choosing Virginia over tried-and-true Maryland. Maryland had never let me down in the crab department. I kept seeing “Virginia is For Lovers” signs, and just scoffed at them. I am a steamed-crab lover. Where were they, Virginia? Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And, yes, Virginia, you have some powerful historic sites and beautiful mountains and beaches. Yes, Virginia, Chincoteague Island was interesting as are the wild ponies who live there. But, where are the crabs?

Chincoteague Island was on my bucket list. It’s part of the Virginia Eastern Shore, which is just south (catch that) of the Maryland Eastern Shore. There should have been crabs for sale everywhere. The Chesapeake Bay is right there! We went over it, under it, and around it, thanks to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. But there were no streets lined with crabs – no signs pointing to crabs. It was heartbreaking.

Thankfully, Virginia, you did have internet service, and that’s how we found Edwards Seafood in Onley, Virginia. Onley was the only place we found the illusive steamed blue crabs. Well, I did find a crazy restaurant that said we could get 3 for $18. I was almost desperate enough to do it, too, but the woman on the other end of the phone had an accent that didn’t sound like their crabs were going to be steamed with Old Bay seasoning. Yeah, she quickly answered me when I asked, “Yes, we have Old Bay. Yes, we cook them just like you like them – 3 for $18.” Something seemed fishy, so we kept looking.

We pulled up to Edwards Seafood just ten minutes before they closed. It wasn’t a restaurant – it was a seafood market. They knew how to steam crabs though, and soon we were headed back to Williamsburg with a dozen and a half of those delectable, messy crustaceans with their familiar Old Bay fragrance wafting through our car. By that time, if you added it all up, we had traveled approximately 13 hours over 2 days for our dinner. Worth it!

For the next couple of hours we picked crabs, drank diet coke, and made a huge mess of the condo we were staying in. Crab picking is far from tidy work. We spread plastic trash bags over the table and moved the trash can to within reach. It was sublime. At that moment, the worlds of “home” collided. We had Maryland-style steamed crabs, even if we were in Virginia. We had just spent a week with all our kids and grandkids. We stood on the balcony and watched as the fireflies played at dusk. Memories of my childhood intersected with the joy of having spent a week with our family. Soon we would return to Florida, but at that moment I had my husband there with me and we clinked our crabs together in a toast to the past, present, and future.

We exchanged idioms about home, including the ever famous, “Home is where you hang your hat.” True, I reminded Bob, but you know I don’t wear many hats because I have a ginormous head and those hats I wear I don’t hang. I think home is where you hang your heart.”

My heart has been hanging right next to this guy for going on 46 years. Happy Retirement, Bob! Where shall we go to dinner next?

We just spent two days in Zion National Park in beautiful Utah. This is our first stop in the region. We are doing the Big Five National Parks – that is Zion, Bryce Canyon, Arches, Capital Reef, and Canyonlands. So far, I think Zion is going to be tough to beat. Its Navajo sandstone cliffs with their brilliant vermillion color contrasted against the green Aspen trees and the brilliant blue sky, well, it takes your breath away. 

The other thing that takes your breath away is the hiking. I have been training for literally days for this trip. I would have started earlier but #1 I hurt my foot in the end of January, and #2 I hate training. After dropping a plastic bin on the top of my foot back in January, it took a while before I could wear a shoe comfortably. This was the perfect excuse for sitting around. I should have thought of that years ago. But as this trip started sneaking up on us, I knew I needed to strap on a pair (of shoes) and get out there and walk. So, Bob and I did a 5K. Actually, I think we threw an extra K in just getting to and from the finish line. I was able to complete the walk with no pain so I was encouraged.

If you have ever been to Orlando you will remember that hills are pretty hard to find. I think that’s because they moved them all to Utah. They were waiting for us, and they were not smooth. They believe in rocks out here. I guess that’s why they call it the Rocky Mountain Region