I decided to head out, even though it was early, and deposited a check at the credit union and then headed on to PT at the other end of the county. I was there early and since the PT foyer is off the OB-GYN foyer, I watched all the little kids. One little boy, with a Hispanic dad and I figure a German mother, was there with Dad and Grandmutter. Dad wanted to play with him and swing him around and so forth, while Grandmutter's every other word was "Nein!" She wanted him to stand and walk, to practice, and didn't want any fun. Fortunately, Dad won some of the time.
In PT, I did better than I'd estimated at the balance exercises. She gave me some more and we tried the treadmill with the left foot high (stepping sideways) and I could barely make a minute. I had trouble getting my left foot back up high and fast enough and the treadmill was going as slow as possible. We did two minutes with the right foot up and then I did five minutes on the recumbent bike machine. I told her that no other physical therapist had done more than exactly what the doctor said -- not the assessment she gave me the first time, or exercises and using machines that would help me in general, and I wondered why. She said the doctor's order was vague enough that she felt she could do what was best for me and not just what we thought the doctor meant.
After, since I was there late enough, I had dinner at Outback Steakhouse. I had the blue cheese chopped salad, potato, and part of the prime rib (large part of the horseradish) there and brought the rest of the prime rib home as well as a piece of carrot cake for later tonight. My server asked me if I was set for the holidays, and instead of letting it go as that I don't really celebrate them like most people do, sat down. I talked about just believing in physical things and I'd note the solstice. I talked about how people used to mark the solstice and how some do similar now. He talked about how he's a Christian, but doesn't always go to church or bless the food and so forth. We got on to how to help people when they've had a loss and how just sending a card isn't necessarily what the person needs. How you should offer to do specific things, so they feel they can take it; how you need to keep in touch, not just the card; and how this is the kind of thing that turns around -- you help someone and people help you. Then my food came and I ate.
On the way home, I stopped by one of the other libraries that had the 1st ed. MMPB of The Ghost Brigade in it and checked -- all the errors are in there, too, so they're from Tor. I've heard from three people now who read it without noticing the errors, even though there's a lot more than I'd expect, so I guess I'm just the kind of person where an error pops them out of the story. I emailed Patrick in case they're going to do a reprint.
At home, I had mail of the usual sort except one bubble envelope. This came from a family I haven't seen and haven't replied to for about 18 years. The husband was the youth pastor when I was still going to church and I was the Treasurer. We gave each of the pastors some specific funds for specific things. The first thing that alerted me was that he gave me fast food receipts for his book fund money. He said when he met with the teens after school at fast food places, he had to eat because they were. I told him he could just have lunch then -- we don't pay for food. No, he had to have lunch earlier with his family. So I had the senior pastor talk to him and I started going more deeply into some of his other funds and found that they had all been misused in some way. His talk with the senior pastor turned up that he planned to not pay us back the $1K we'd loaned him soon after he moved here. We knew things cost more here and we sent financial packages that covered costs here to all the candidates for pastors. So the pastors, some elders, and I met with him and, against my preference, told him we would let him quit and forgive the money if he did it right then and left. I preferred we fire him and hold him accountable for the money. This is how other churches get bad pastors -- the old church doesn't want to make them look bad.
So they've been sending me money begs for all these years and I usually put them in the mixed-paper recycling without opening them. But this one was a bubble envelope with something in it, so I opened it. I went ahead and threw out the begging, took the stickers off the envelope so I can use it again, and examined the little straw-over-cardboard animal. I don't know what it was meant to be since I'm pretty sure that Africa doesn't have straw and pink animals. Neither of the cats were interested and that's when I noticed something. The animal has a hole in the neck. They got it from somewhere that uses the plastic tags, but wanted it to look authentic. How typical.
I'm achy now so I'm going to watch Law and Order from the recliner and come back to read.