Something crazy has been going on in my neck and shoulder area ever since we moved into our new house. I tried my very best to ignore it for about two months, but the mysterious tingling sensation running down my right arm and painful twinges behind my should blade wouldn't give up. I went to a doctor.
She started poking different parts of my right shoulder area and moving my arm around. How's this? How's this? How's this? Poke. Lift. Lower. Circle. Poke. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Then...
Me: "Yikes!"
Conclusion: rotator cuff and unspecified neck problem. Two different things. I've only heard about rotator cuff injuries in relation to swimmers and baseball pitchers. I don't have any issue with giving up my nonexistent dreams for those two careers. But the tingling sensation I get when trying to tie my shoes is a problem.
Doctor: "Instead of bending down to your shoe, bring your foot up to you. And try not to involve your neck."
The doctor completely lost my attention then. Instead of listening to the rest of what she was saying about ibuprofen and ice packs and vitamins, I started to think about how the word involve is normally used.
No need to involve the police.
She's too involved in everybody's business.
Why did I get involved with that loser?
Try not to involve your neck. The more I thought about it, I realized how intrinsically involved in my life my neck has been. What body parts can I move without involving my neck? If my neck were a government employee, it would be one of those "essential" employees that always have to report to work even when there's a hurricane coming.
I went home and announced to my family that I cannot involve my neck, so until I am deemed recovered, they will have to perform all duties related to my compulsive need for order. This includes but is not limited to: straightening crooked chairs or other furniture, stacking objects on shelves in a way that is to my liking, putting the milk container on the refrigerator shelf I indicate is appropriate.
After all, why should the pain in the neck be only mine?
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Teacher planning marks the end of summer
It's teacher planning week! I know I'm back at school because:
1. I ate two and a half donuts today.
2. All photocopiers in the general vicinity are broken.
3. Words like rubric and curriculum and percentiles are being bandied about.
4. I've been getting hungry for lunch at 11 a.m. (even after two and a half donuts).
5. Finding a box of dry erase markers felt like winning the Lotto.
6. 9 p.m. is feeling like a perfectly normal bedtime.
7. I feel compelled to tell strangers to put their phones away.
8. The mirror in the bathroom is made out of some unknown fun-house metal instead of glass.
9. I've been hearing people in whispered negotiations over LCD projectors, podiums and copies of paperback titles.
10. I almost couldn't go home because my car was surrounded by tubas in the parking lot.
11. I received a piece of paper that says I will be in charge of 209 teen-age humans on Monday.
1. I ate two and a half donuts today.
2. All photocopiers in the general vicinity are broken.
3. Words like rubric and curriculum and percentiles are being bandied about.
4. I've been getting hungry for lunch at 11 a.m. (even after two and a half donuts).
5. Finding a box of dry erase markers felt like winning the Lotto.
6. 9 p.m. is feeling like a perfectly normal bedtime.
7. I feel compelled to tell strangers to put their phones away.
8. The mirror in the bathroom is made out of some unknown fun-house metal instead of glass.
9. I've been hearing people in whispered negotiations over LCD projectors, podiums and copies of paperback titles.
10. I almost couldn't go home because my car was surrounded by tubas in the parking lot.
11. I received a piece of paper that says I will be in charge of 209 teen-age humans on Monday.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Feeding Facebook
The person who always posts a picture on Facebook for Throwback Thursday is: (fill in the blank). Someone popped into your mind, right? Think about it. As you scroll through your Facebook feed, you probably can intuitively identify who posted what before you've even fully focused on it.
Animals that need to be adopted. Quick, who posts it? Not that it needs to be only one person. I often find it fascinating that I have Facebook friends who don't know each other who have so much in common. (In this case, they're making me want to adopt all the puppies!)
Running! Who came to mind? I have friends who are attending the same events who don't know each other, and I wonder if I should introduce them. Is that weird? Does it break Facebook etiquette somehow?
There are also people who love:
quizzes that tell you what TV character or decade or city you are or what your Martian name is. (I got Goofus. Which character are you?)
And those on your feed who are always posting:
math brain teasers; the latest movie; motivational sayings; motorcycles; horses; prayers; musical theater; a particular sports team; comic book conventions; environmental issues; froth-filled Starbucks cups; pictures of Ryan Gosling saying something romantic; cartoon women saying something sassy; personal medical ailments; recipes that are healthy; recipes that are incredibly fattening!
Wouldn't it be fun to mess with everyone if you are, say, a running post person and today you post a really fattening recipe? Or if math person posts a puppy picture? Let's all break our own stereotypes! Let's stick it to the man! (Oh, yeah, protest person. That's another one.)
And of course, I, too, am feeding the Facebook feed. I'm the person who always puts the link to her blog.
Animals that need to be adopted. Quick, who posts it? Not that it needs to be only one person. I often find it fascinating that I have Facebook friends who don't know each other who have so much in common. (In this case, they're making me want to adopt all the puppies!)
Running! Who came to mind? I have friends who are attending the same events who don't know each other, and I wonder if I should introduce them. Is that weird? Does it break Facebook etiquette somehow?
There are also people who love:
quizzes that tell you what TV character or decade or city you are or what your Martian name is. (I got Goofus. Which character are you?)
And those on your feed who are always posting:
math brain teasers; the latest movie; motivational sayings; motorcycles; horses; prayers; musical theater; a particular sports team; comic book conventions; environmental issues; froth-filled Starbucks cups; pictures of Ryan Gosling saying something romantic; cartoon women saying something sassy; personal medical ailments; recipes that are healthy; recipes that are incredibly fattening!
Wouldn't it be fun to mess with everyone if you are, say, a running post person and today you post a really fattening recipe? Or if math person posts a puppy picture? Let's all break our own stereotypes! Let's stick it to the man! (Oh, yeah, protest person. That's another one.)
And of course, I, too, am feeding the Facebook feed. I'm the person who always puts the link to her blog.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
High Def Romance
"You look good up close," Ricky said to me.
We were sitting side by side on a park bench, causing him to have to look through the lower part of his progressive glasses in order for him to focus on my face. This gave him the air of someone inspecting a piece of fruit he was considering purchasing.
"When I was in Best Buy looking at the HD TVs," Ricky continued, "James Spader was on the screens and it was terrible. I don't mean the TVs. The picture quality was great. I mean James Spader looked terrible. Time and HD has not been kind to James Spader. You look much better than James Spader."
I tried to remember if I've seen James Spader lately. It seems to me I've glimpsed him in ads for something, maybe a TV show. I decided to take this comment in the flattering spirit in which it was given. (This is one of those tricks to staying happily married.)
"Thanks," I said. "And who says you're not romantic."
I started to imagine if Ricky were to develop his own line of greeting cards. Front of card: To my darling on our anniversary. Inside of card: (Picture of James Spader) You are more lovely than James Spader in High Definition.
Or, how about a game show with this concept? The audience would vote on who looks better, the contestant or Famous Person X. It would start on Level 1 with less demanding comparisons, like Keith Richards or child actors now in their 20s or celebs with terrible plastic surgery. Then the levels would get more challenging all the way up to supermodels in their prime.
My thoughts were interrupted when Ricky added one more comment.
"And you're not wearing makeup," he said. "I bet James Spader was wearing a lot of makeup."
We were sitting side by side on a park bench, causing him to have to look through the lower part of his progressive glasses in order for him to focus on my face. This gave him the air of someone inspecting a piece of fruit he was considering purchasing.
"When I was in Best Buy looking at the HD TVs," Ricky continued, "James Spader was on the screens and it was terrible. I don't mean the TVs. The picture quality was great. I mean James Spader looked terrible. Time and HD has not been kind to James Spader. You look much better than James Spader."
I tried to remember if I've seen James Spader lately. It seems to me I've glimpsed him in ads for something, maybe a TV show. I decided to take this comment in the flattering spirit in which it was given. (This is one of those tricks to staying happily married.)
"Thanks," I said. "And who says you're not romantic."
I started to imagine if Ricky were to develop his own line of greeting cards. Front of card: To my darling on our anniversary. Inside of card: (Picture of James Spader) You are more lovely than James Spader in High Definition.
Or, how about a game show with this concept? The audience would vote on who looks better, the contestant or Famous Person X. It would start on Level 1 with less demanding comparisons, like Keith Richards or child actors now in their 20s or celebs with terrible plastic surgery. Then the levels would get more challenging all the way up to supermodels in their prime.
My thoughts were interrupted when Ricky added one more comment.
"And you're not wearing makeup," he said. "I bet James Spader was wearing a lot of makeup."
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