SNAPPO!!

First of all, Elly, if you think I don't have a good plaster cast story, you don't know me very well. Shall I tell you the story about how, the summer before 7th grade, I fell off my pink Huffy dirt bike and broke not one, but two arms? For those of you keeping track, that means I broke all of my arms at once.

Actually, I couldn't even do that right. I ended up needing to have surgery in order to "complete the occlusion" on my right arm. Even as a precocious pre-teen, I didn't know what that meant, so imagine my disbelief to learn that I was going under anesthesia so that they could FINISH BREAKING MY ARM. (Recently, I asked a doctor friend what kind of fancy procedure that would entail, and was a little horrified--but not that surprised--to hear that they basically just take your arm over someone's knee and...just...snap it.) Apparently, had it been allowed to heal the way it was, it would have been all twisty and gnarly. So scared was I of this surgery, I remember trying to convince my dad that I didn't care if my right arm was all S-shaped. I would just wear a lot of long sleeves. Luckily, my pitiful reasoning went unheeded and...snappo!

So, there I went, into the fall of 7th grade, with two plaster casts, one over the elbow. I had to buy shirts in the maternity section so that they would stretch enough to get my unbending arm through the sleeves. Good thing junior high is so forgiving of differences, huh? They cut a long slit in one of the casts to allow for swelling, and my dad labeled it "San Andreas Fault," which I totally didn't get. Remember when casts were plaster and you could draw on them? Or, you know, you could if your OTHER ARM wasn't also in a cast.

So, there you are, friends. Go ahead, gimme another one.

***

Not that I didn't appreciate this tumble down Embarrassing Memory Lane, but originally I'd planned on writing about (what else) the elections. Nothing remarkable, and nothing that probably hasn't been said better (and sooner) elsewhere, but...Jee-zus. A friend posted on Facebook, "Listened to future house speaker talk about how he can't wait to repeal the healthcare reform law and felt physically ill." I listened to NPR's coverage on the way in to work and can certainly attest to a visceral sense of unwellness that I don't know I've ever felt about politics before (I shamefacedly point out that, until the last six years or so, I basically avoided knowing anything about politics, which, while immature and tragic, was also waaaay easier). As someone who works for a publicly-funded agency, I'm so scared and outraged by all this "smaller government" crap. They keep cutting our services, when for many families, we are the only help for their kids with special needs. Where was all this brouhaha about cutting spending when were funding unjust war? Argh.

Another friend wrote, "Goodbye, middle class. It was nice knowing you." Indeed.

Huh. This is ending on kind of a downer. Go read the lovely story about gross bodily injury again.