I'm sorry to be such a non-entity around the blogosphere lately.
My summer has gotten frantic, and to top it all off,
I've injured my right arm.
Forearm, to be exact.
Hold out your forearm, palm facing down.
Now, try to twist it, pinkie first, up, thumb down.
Does it hurt?
Of course not. If you run out of range, your
forearm just stops moving.
But mine is very tender, nay, inflamed and
it sends burning pain shooting down from the base
of my little finger to my elbow.
When I try to turn it palm side up, it won't go far without
Harumph! (As an old friend of mine would say).
If I'm very careful to keep my wrist in neutral, it doesn't hurt
and I can type. Otherwise, I'm sunk.
Motrin 800's are my new best friends.
We have a family cookout in Ohio scheduled for tomorrow, which means
a three-hour drive there, and a three-hour drive back.
In two cars because there are so many of us. I may not be driving much.
And of course the canoe trip on Sunday is out for this not-very-outdoorsy-anyway one.
But it also means I probably won't be able to do anything useful around the house
that afternoon either. Maybe that'd be a good time to get something baked,
which hasn't happened around here in donkeys' years.
But I'm right-handed. Sigh.
I'll keep you posted.