Hinges

My students had a recital last night.  I didn't take any pictures because I couldn't bend my arm.  An hour before the recital, I was vacuuming the stairs and the vacuum fell on my elbow and cracked it good, at which point I learned a new lesson.  It's similar to "don't point the knife toward yourself."  It's "don't use vacuum attachments downhill from the vacuum."

It was like a 5-Alarm funny bone situation, with a big knob popping up where the side of my elbow used to be.  Either they kids felt sorry for me, or they were terrified by all the moaning and grunting, because they whipped the house into shape in no time.  I sounded like I was in labor, except that when I gave birth, everything was numb from my chin down and I was full of happy adrenaline and miraculous drugs and the only sounds were laughter and pleasant conversation.  This wasn't quite as much fun.  It's way easier to push a baby out with an epidural than it is to carry a chair down the stairs with one arm dangling at your side, unaided by prescription drugs.  I called my mom and said calmly, "Hi!!!!  I'm just uughghgh getting reeeeeeeADY for a recitaaaaaoooow!!!  My arm huuuuuuuuuurtzjzhzhh."  She rushed over to help me get my shirt off and change into something that didn't hurt my arm as much as what I was wearing.

With my new, bloody ping pong elbow, I had to drive to pick up Ruby at ballet.  Driving with one arm is no picnic, especially when you're making contingency plans for when you pass out at the wheel.  I had to roll down the window because my vision kept including swimming black dots.  Maybe they were Oreo crumbs.  I couldn't tell.  I was pounding back a whole package of Oreos with my good arm, which left no arms for driving.  When I careened to a stop at the red light, teeth black with Oreos, vision black with floating Oreo crumbs, I started to cry.  Then I started laughing.  How about a shout-out for tinted windows, because I'm sure I looked like a rabid donkey who hadn't brushed his teeth ever in his life.  Hee haw, hee haw.  BUT I was wearing a cute shirt of my mom's so I'm sure I looked darling.

If driving is hard with a ping pong ball for an elbow, you should try playing the violin.  The knobby arm just happened to be the one that normally moves up and down, running the bow over the strings.  I was slated to accompany some of my students, and I didn't want to ruin whatever all those video cameras were poised and ready to record for posterity.  I told everyone that I was going to demonstrate "playing in the upper half of the bow," and that's what I did with my three inch range of motion.  Ow.  I have never felt so pathetic.  But we all sounded great. 

Following close on the heels of my recital was Ruby's recital, which started just as my guests were exiting with the last of their refreshments in hand.  We divided the recitals up because of seating limitations.  Plus, two half-hour recitals=half as much time spent per capita listening to someone else's kid "saw away" at the violin.  Ruby's (and Golda's one flute student) were great!  One of Ruby's guitar students brought her dad, who is one of our doctors.  I told him I was going in after the recital to have the ping pong ball x-rayed and he said, "Let me save you a hundred bucks.  You're fine."  All it takes is someone with capital letters after their name to say you're gonna make it, and the healing begins.  Thanks, Dr. Fife! 

So I can't bend my arm.  Big deal.  It's ironic, though, and makes me think I'm being punished by the universe.  Just last week, Scott and I were ruthlessly mocking the Primary song that goes, "I'm all made of hinges 'cause everything bends, from the top of my neck right down to my ends..."  Seriously, does there have to be a song about our joints and how thankful we are to have them so we can bend?

Then I got cupcake frosting on my finger and couldn't get it to my tongue.  Because my hinge wouldn't bend.  Now I get it.  I GET IT, OK, UNIVERSE?  I'm thankful for bending joints. Are you happy now?