Perfect is as Perfect Does

One of the features of my Apple Watch that I enjoy is the fitness app that comes standard with the device and pairs seamlessly with the corresponding app on my iPhone. The two of them act in tandem to track my daily activity and provide lots of data, as well as fun challenges, which I usually find motivating. 

It's been nearly 10 years since I bought my first watch, and in that time, I've only had 11 perfect weeks, where I met all three of my goals: activity, stand, and exercise. I've never had a perfect month, though, even back in 2020 when it seemed like my main source of entertainment during the shutdown was walking, swimming, and exercising. I came closest in July of that year, just missing it by two days.

My most recent perfect week was last week, and since it corresponded to the beginning of the month, I was hopeful that the stars might align and April would be perfect, in respect to closing my rings at least. But spending my second day at school and hours of non-stop rain may have derailed that plan today. 

Maybe not, though. As I write it's 5:42. I met my stand goal an hour ago (that's what getting up before 6 a.m. will do!). I have 70% of my move goal and only need 19 minutes of exercise. I could probably pull myself together to keep the streak alive.

But will I?

UPDATE 4/12: I DID IT! As soon as I posted, I put on boots and my raincoat and I went for a brisk 2 mile walk, closing all my rings before I got home!

IRL

I thought it might be for the best if I spent a couple of days in my friend's sixth-grade science class with her before taking over for a few weeks after spring break. Even though we worked on the same team in adjoining rooms for nearly 20 years, I don't think I ever actually saw her teach; I was always too busy doing my own job on the other side of the wall. We agreed that it would ease the transition for me and the kids if I got a chance to see how the class went, and they could meet me while she was still there.

It was a busy day! In addition to accomplishing our objectives, I caught up with many former students and colleagues. And after I got home, I returned to the garden to keep weeding ahead of the coming rain. I'd put my screen time for the day at 60 minutes or so, a fraction of the usual, but I really didn't miss it at all.

In the Weeds

One of the things I was most looking forward to in retirement was spending time in the garden in spring, which is by far the busiest season there. Unfortunately, I forgot that when, at the beginning of winter, a friend asked if I would take the long-term sub job while she was out for hip replacement, and I agreed. 

That upcoming commitment, paired with the crazy weather we've had the last couple of months, has put me, quite literally, in the weeds when it comes to getting my plot ready by the May 15 deadline. So, despite the freeze warning that was issued for last night, I have spent several hours weeding and cleaning both yesterday and today. 

In fact, I've filled 20 garbage bags full of henbit, dead nettle, ground ivy, spurge, crabgrass, bittercress, and mugwort. It has, however, been delightful. A combination of cool air, warm sun, and an audiobook has made that time spent patiently plucking plants by the roots perfectly pleasant. 

And next year? I'm going to have even more time to enjoy it!

A Good Place to Laugh

"What about The Good Place? Have you watched it?" a friend asked me recently when we were discussing our ideas about must-see TV.

"It's on the list," I shrugged, "but we haven't gotten to it yet."

"It's both really entertaining and deeply philosophical," she told me, which I considered high praise.

That conversation stuck with me because the other night, when we were looking for something relatively short to fit into our tight TV schedule, I pulled up the show. Of course, we knew the premise: an undeserving woman finds herself in heaven, but her presence seems to be causing unexplained problems in paradise. And we knew the cast, too: Kristen Bell and Ted Danson were both actors we liked.

But what I was unprepared for was how funny it is. I can't remember the last time I really laughed at a television show, but Heidi and I both giggle at every episode. So tonight? I'm going to make sure we watch another one. Because it really does feel great to laugh!

Light, Naturally

The tricky part about today's challenge was not the earliness of the hour—I'm up at 6:15 and out of the house by 7 to take Heidi to school—but rather the dearth of natural light this morning due to the gloomy weather. Even so, I did my best. 

On the first Monday of the month, I have to find something to do after I drop Heidi off because that's when our cleaning lady comes. When I retired, we scaled back that luxury from once a week to once a month because we didn't want Estela to lose that income all at once. I usually go grocery shopping at my favorite store, which is about 30 minutes away, but I'm finished before Estela is, so I need another activity. Today I took the scenic route home and stopped at an overlook with views of the Potomac and Mount Vernon. It was raining, but I spotted a couple of cormorants and a great blue heron. I'd like to think I got a little natural light as I enjoyed the vista.

And now? I'm writing in the dimness of a still rainy afternoon, the only artificial light is from my screen, and I'm about to shut that down until tomorrow.

RBF Begone

Body scan meditations are not new to me, but recently, I noticed that my face is super tense, especially around my mouth and forehead, and almost all the time. So lately, I have been focusing on relaxing my face whenever it occurs to me, but especially when I'm walking the dog. Whenever I pass someone, I make sure I have a neutral expression, and if they choose to make eye contact, I smile.

That may seem outrageously basic to some people, but other introverts can probably relate to the challenge. I will say this, though: a little nod and a smile can go a long way. Now, if I happen to see someone more than once, they often smile and nod at me first.

I think that's progress.

More than a Game

A few weeks ago I was cleaning out the closet and found my old basketball. It had been a really nice ball in its day, a luminous leather model, but the years had not been kind to it. Now it was faded and slick, an indoor ball no longer fit to play with. 

I set it aside, but kept it in mind, and the other day, when some errands landed us in a sporting goods store, their NCAA tourney display caught my eye immediately, and we walked out with a new WNBA-approved outdoor basketball. Today was the day when I convinced Heidi that our workout should include heading up to the school playground and shooting some hoops. 

The blue ball felt great in my hands, bouncy and grippy, and I dribbled my way up the stairs and across the parking lot to get to the hoop. "Let's play until we make a hundred shots!" I suggested to Heidi, and she shrugged and sighed, humoring me. As I lofted the ball up, I felt all the years since I last shot a basket. "Oof!" I reacted as it clanged off the rim. I rebounded and tried again without success, but the third time was the charm. Heidi was rusty, too, and as we shot and rebounded and passed and shot again and chased the ball all over the place, I knew it was going to be a pretty good workout. 

At one point, Heidi took a playful granny shot, and I was transported back to second grade. I remembered our PE teacher lining us up at the foul line on our playground court and instructing us on shooting. The boys were taught overhand, but the girls had to shoot granny-style. I could not make a shot for the life of me, and I really wanted to. So much so that I borrowed a basketball every day at recess and practiced, but I still couldn't do it. 

I told my mom about it, and she asked me each night at dinner if I had made it yet. Every night, I shook my head until one night, when she asked me, I said yes, even though I hadn't. 

"No, you didn't," she replied.

I was amazed she could tell I was lying, and a little scared, too. "I'm sorry, I just really wanted it to be true," I told her.

"When you make it," she said, "you'll be so excited that I'll know." 

And she was right. The day I finally got the ball in the hoop, it was the first thing I told her when I got home from school. "I knew you could do it!" she said and hugged me. "And I'm especially proud of how hard you worked to do it."

Today, it took Heidi and me a while to get our hundred shots, but you can bet we did it.