Started the new physical therapy routine on my shoulder today. Met with the nice lady who is going to make me all better. She asked what brings on the problems and I wish I knew, because I could stop doing them. And not knowing is unusual because I am typically very causal about what brings about the things that hurt.
Maybe I should start a journal.
So I have these movements and those stretches. Basically today was all about using my arm and my body against itself in ways you don’t normally use your muscle groups. Which means the entire thing is shaky and humorous. And I have homework of stretches and flexes and things.
She gave me an ice pack and sent me on my way. Twenty minutes later my shoulder spasmed hard. (Note to self: You did it, lady! You’re the cause!)
And then my other shoulder and my neck. Such that by the end of the night I could only barely move my upper body. That was a lot of fun. Still is, really.
In class we talked about Associated Press style. We discussed the front pages stories in a national newspaper, a small town community rag and a campus publication.
What makes this story important? What makes it unimportant? Should it have been placed here? There were good answers to these questions, even for the stories that, probably, weren’t really front page stories.
Less obvious were the answers to this question: Who else should have been quoted in this story?
What was fun was trying to find those newspapers. Like pay phones, newspaper boxes have disappeared. And, yes, I understand the business. What I mean is that in places where you saw boxes earlier this year, they are often gone today. The day was coming. The day has quietly come. If by day you mean a big truck with someone throwing newspaper boxes in the back.
Things to read, or items that interested me today.
There was a fireball in the sky here tonight. Twitter — watch what I do here — lit up with the news. Here is a record of some of the sightings. Four meteor cameras spotted it. Some observers noted a sonic boom, which demonstrates how long and low into the atmosphere the object survived.
Poor dears in Texas are having trouble because they booked their wedding in the fall and the date coincides with the later booking of This Week’s Game of the Century:
“The game will probably be ending right around the time I say ‘I do,’ ” sighed the bride-to-be.
[…]
“Trying to schedule a wedding on a home-game weekend is nearly impossible,” said Susan Keough, a wedding coordinator in College Station.
[…]
The wedding of Ms. Mies and Logan Parker is set for 6 p.m. at Astin Mansion, a venue in Bryan, Texas, that employs its own chefs and florists. The unusual circumstances, Ms. Mies said, will be an unexpected test for her 100 guests: Some men will be scurrying over for the reception from the stadium, where the game has a 2:30 p.m. kickoff, while their wives come early for the ceremony.
“You find out who your friends are,” Ms. Mies said, “and who loves you the most.”
Also, your friends find out if you consider things that may be important to them, like locally important cultural events, before scheduling your big day. This news is not news in our beautiful corner of things, but surely looks very eccentric and odd to every other part of the country.
Here’s more news: Spring weddings are beautiful and summer weddings are possible, despite the heat.
I attended a wedding held during the Iron Bowl one year. The wedding was held in a private home, so they could have moved things up a few hours. But, nooooo.
I wonder why someone doesn’t get married actually at a game. With the big HD screens in stadiums these days you’d have an entertaining and unique experience. Maybe the coach comes over afterward and gives you a game ball.
And, finally, Samford moves up a step in the (sometimes dubious) U.S. News and World Report’s rankings. Number three in the South.
