Onward

**Hey there y'all. Or perhaps I should say, hey there you, J-P. Because I suppose that "y'all" is a bit presumptuous at this point.**

Every time I fire up my browser, my trusty Blogger button sits there taunting me, reminding me of just what a derelict blogger I've become. And really, I can't even call myself a blogger in good faith if I'm only here a few times a year, and every other post is one of those pathetic I'msorryforbeingabadbloggerandIpromisetoneverletithappenagain kind of posts, or even worse, one of those It'sallFacebook'sfaultthatIneverbloganymore kind of posts. (Which it totally is, by the by.) But I'm not going to bother with one of those posts, no, because I don't know that I can, or that I will, or even that I want to be "better" at this. And certainly no good can come from that kind of pressure. No good at all.

So, where does that leave us? It's been a year, more or less. Not a year since I posted last, not technically. But more or less a year since J-P and I wrapped up our big roadtrip, a year since we moved back to Brooklyn, a year since I posted even remotely with regularity, either here or at Strawberry Beret.

That probably leads you, and most certainly leads me, to ponder: just what is there to show for that year?

Here's what I've got. Some things of greater note, some less:

1. Read Infinite Jest and a bunch of other, less time-consuming books. Mostly fiction. And mostly stuff that's been sitting unread on the bookshelf for, like, ever.

2. Resumed running regularly. Average monthly mileage is increasing steadily. This I feel very good about.

3. Had minor surgery and suffered through a several-month recovery period that also provided me with a several-month excuse to feel sorry for myself.

4. Watched all or part of almost every single World Cup game as a result of #3. Saw my understanding of soccer and my appreciation for the *ahem* skill of one Diego Forlan increase dramatically.

5. Increased my Law & Order consumption, though I usually limit it to two episodes a day, max. Despite my initial misgivings, have found that Jeremy Sisto has grown on me.

6. Started recipe testing. Not for myself, for a cookbook author. Can't say any more than that until the cookbook is released, but it's kind of neat and keeps me busy with something that interests me.

7. Applied to well over fifty legal jobs, probably more like seventy-five. Have had five interviews. Have had one offer for a part-time gig. Still looking, and looking, and looking.

8. Cultivated relationships with friends new and old in Brooklyn and environs, while still getting back to Nashville now and again.

9. Was ordained as a minister in the Universal Life Church.

When I started that list, I thought that I would follow it up with a list of things that I haven't done this year. But now that I think about it, that would just be a buzzkill. I mean, it's pretty obvious that I haven't (a) gotten a full-time job, (b) written a screenplay, or (c) finished a triathlon. I mean, if I'd have done any of that, it certainly would have warranted a slot on the list.

So no. I'm not going to dwell on what I haven't accomplished / done / achieved / completed yada yada yada. Because there's no good that can come of that, either.

There is only tomorrow, and next week, and next month, and next year. So, onward.


________________________________________

P-P-P-P-P-P-P is for Pinky

Lo, it is a big day. Because today, I am typing two-handed. Even the little pinky is pulling its weight. Just look at all those beautiful Ps!

Because of that damn pinky, for the past near two months I could not: type with any semblance of accuracy or speed, hold a knife (which ruled out most cooking, unless J-P was around to serve as my sous chef), wash dishes (which I can't say I missed), hold a book especially comfortably, do yoga, write with my dominant hand, drive, run, do push-ups, ride a bike, do most chores around the house, pick up anything remotely heavy, or wash my left arm. Although I did manage to adapt a little bit and taught myself to write somewhat legibly with my left hand, tie my shoes using my left hand and two fingers of my right, pull my hair into a ponytail the same way, and shave my legs left-handed.

Today marks seven weeks post-op, and already this week I've seen whole lot of a improvement in my mobility and finally FINALLY! I can resume some of my activities. I went for a run! And drove to my therapy appointment! And washed a few pots and pans! And put them away! And typed this with ease!

Seriously, you have no idea how freeing this is.

There's still plenty of room for improvement and things I still cannot do. I'm still a long ways off from anything that requires me to bend my hand back from my wrist (no bike, no downward dog, and no push-ups, for a start) and cannot do any heavy gripping with my right hand (have to use two hands to pick up anything heavy and have to be especially careful around doorknobs).

But, this is progress. Sweet, sweet progress.

________________________________________

The second-most important finger

Some pictures below may not be for the weak-of-stomach.  Consider yourself warned.

So I must tell you about my club hand, as J-P so thoughtfully calls it.  I've been wearing this contraption for over a week now, and I've got at least another three to go, plus another four to six weeks of therapy beyond that.

You may note that it is my right hand, and, yes, I am right-handed.  So I've had to learn to do all sorts of things left-handed, although my handwriting looks rather like a four-year-old's, I need help washing my entire left arm, and anything that requires two hands is ne'r impossible.  As for typing, I couldn't afford one of those nifty one-handed keyboards, so I'm alternating between a left-hand-only approach and the ooh-so-sporty homemade-stylus approach:

How did I manage to do this to myself, you ask?  You'd think, between the club hand, the therapy, the weeks and weeks of treatment, that it's at least a bad sprain, if not a broken bone or some sort of mangled palm or something like that.  But no.  All of this has come about because -- wait for it -- I cut my pinky.

Short version of the how-it-happened part of the story:  My birthday.  Celebratory homemade dinner.  Shucking oysters.  Butter knife.  Whoopsie.  

Anyway, I didn't end up in the ER until the next day because (A) it was my birthday and (B) once the bleeding let up, which it did rather quickly, I figured that it wasn't anything that a martini couldn't fix.  But the next day, when my pinky wouldn't bend on its own, leaving me with permanent tea-party-pinky, I thought I should have it checked out.

(Lesson: If the question is "should I go to the ER for this?" then the answer is "um, YES.")

And before I knew it, I had a diagnosis of a severed flexor tendon and there was a hand specialist in my room in the ER prepping for surgery.  Here was my hand pre-surgery, swollen from the anesthesia, with tea-party-pinky still in full effect.  Note that the cut itself (that tiny little line on the middle knuckle of my pinky) is barely noticeable: 

Because the surgery was relatively minor (local anesthesia, under an hour start to finish), it all went down right there in the ER, and I could document it for posterity.  That white line in the middle of the incision is my (repaired) tendon:

A few reflections and lessons from this whole experience:

• It would be nice to have a Xanax to take the edge off right before they saw into one of your extremities.
• My sister had to assist with the surgery, I kid you not.  The effect of budget cuts, I guess.  No fewer than three times, the doc asked V to hand him this or that off the tray or out of a drawer. 
• In the middle of surgery, the doctor pauses, and then says, "INT-eresting."  I mean, come on.  Don't they teach you in Bedside Manner 101 not to say shit like that when the patient is awake?
• I took a bunch of pictures of the surgery (obviously), but at the key moment, after the doc completed the repair but before he sewed my finger back up, he scrubbed out so he could take a picture with his own camera for his records. 
• Apparently, the pinky is the second-most important finger.  Having spent twenty-four hours without a functioning pinky (not to mention the last two weeks with an out-of-commission hand), I can say with certainty that it's true.  Try writing without your pinky to help grip the pen.  Or picking up a heavy bowl without using your pinky to help steady the bottom.  Not easy, not at all.
• And finally, if you ever have a similar misfortune, hopefully you too will end up with a zig-zagging scar, so instead of tea-party-pinky, you can have a Harry Potter pinky just like mine:

________________________________________

The 3500 Club

The traffic gods must have been smiling on us this past weekend.  Because otherwise, I don't know how we managed to get out of town on a holiday weekend and avoid all traffic, both coming and going.  (It might have something to do with leaving the city at noon on Friday and coming back Sunday night, before the crowds started pouring back in on Monday, but I'm going with the traffic gods.)

And so, unencumbered by traffic, we were able to relax and make full use of the beautiful weather.  We got in fifteen miles of hiking over the course of two days, and made it up three of the Catskills' 35ers -- 35 peaks in the Catskills that are over 3500 feet in elevation, basically the east coast's answer to Colorado's famed 14ers.  (My Colorado-based uber-outdoorsy brother-in-law can go ahead and stop laughing right about now.)

Save for the bugs that chased us into the tent a full two hours before dark, we had a great night camping on the side of Slide Mountain about two miles from the summit:

We took off early the next A.M., 

reaching the summit of Slide before any of the day-hikers could beat us up there.

Of course, J-P *had* to get a picture of himself popping up over the side of the rock formation at the top of Slide, so as to suggest that he had scaled that rock, while looking no worse for the wear.  (Actually, there was quite a lot of rock scaling, but neither of us was about to whip out a camera while we're holding on to a rock ledge ten feet up.  So J-P's reenactment will just have to do.)

After Slide came Cornell Mountain, followed by Wittenberg, with some pretty outstanding views made even better by the perfectly clear weather.

That's three down, and only thirty-two to go!

(Maybe.  We'll see.)

________________________________________

Three years in, and I'm still hanging around

Three years ago, I published this.  Two years ago, I managed to remember the Rhino Legs blogiversary, albeit a few days late.  And then, one year ago, I just let the 18th of May pass without mention.

But!  One repeating calendar event later and, Google help me, I will never miss another blogiversary again!

Now, if you're an avid reader of the Rhino Legs empire, you may realize that I'm celebrating a blogiversary over at Strawberry Beret today too.  That, my friends, is a complete accident.  I launched SB exactly a year to the day after I launched RL, which was totally unplanned.  It's like having kids that are different ages, but have the same birthday.   Weird, no?

Thanks for reading all you, whoever and wherever you are, and for sticking it out through my more and less productive periods.  I hope you'll stick around a bit longer.

________________________________________