Annyong! Lindsay here. Again.
So. The news of the day. Just got back from acupuncture. Did I go to the same Chinese doctor I saw last fall when I swung my arm out of wack at a Buddhist temple stay? Nope. My yoga instructor. That’s right. The woman who teaches me yoga every Tuesday and Thursday INSISTED that I come to her. And quick. So she could poke and prod me before the bruising went away. Of course this was all translated. As she speaks no English.
So I figured I didn’t have a choice. She is an adamant woman who never lets me get out of any yoga pose or push up. So I went.
Not only did she fix me up for free, she also took me home afterward when she realized I would otherwise have to take a cab.
I’m not going to lie. It hurt like hell. Picture a sprained ankle. Purple and blue and twice the normal size. And then some crazy Korean woman takes out a needle inserted into something like a ballpoint pen which she clicks clicks clicks, boring tiny holes with seeping blood into your bruised skin. I thought I was going to punch her back for every poke.
But once the tiny needles were in, all was good. And I’m going back tomorrow for round two.
In other news, Whit and I are moving this Friday to a new neighborhood. I’m excited and sad all at the same time. I hate the thought of leaving all the kind Koreans who have been taking care of us for a year. But then Whit just reminds me that. Seriously. Lindsay. We’re only moving a mile away. Which is true.