All Good To Go

Yesterday I met up with my chiropractor friend, Fiona, and got an invaluable lesson on taking good care of my muscles. No, not my fancy yoga ones. But the ones in my fingers and forearms, which I torture on a daily basis.

Fiona gave me this excrutiating massage, which is turning out (today) to be one of the best things that has ever happened for me.

She digs her thumbs and fingers around (she claims gently), into my forearms near the elbow, and I am writhing about with this screwed-up face. "Breathe," she says. And I try to. She carries on for about 10 minutes, and then gives me precious, precious tips on how to avoid injury from all the wirework and clenching of the pliers. (Anyone interested in the details of the tips can drop me an email. :))

Today I feel lighter, more sane, more capable, more 'together'. Today, I feel I can churn out a few pairs of earrings, and more...

Actually, today, I need to go to the supermarket and stock up on some ham...