Two steps forward...

It was, it turns out, too many foods introduced too closely together. And though if I see you in person I will happily share TMI about my digestive tales, should you be interested, I think sharing in writing with the wider internet world is not a wise thing for my future run at the U.S. Senate. Suffice to say I did not feel 100% this week. I took quite a few steps back. 

I'm back on a diet of mostly meat stews, with carrots and celery in them, and a little bit of pureed fruit. There is one problem: I had started grain-free baking. And I probably need to dial that to Zero for a week or two. But among the four or five failure recipes - like the almond flour 'bread' - I've hit on two good ones so far! A banana bread that tasted like banana bread - and not like 'pretty good for almond flour banana bread' and then… ahh, for the Super Bowl party today… peanut butter cookies!

Grain free, refined sugar free. Just peanut butter, butter, almond flour, salt, honey and a pinch of baking soda. I don't know if I am allowed baking soda; I am not asking about it. Head in the sand on that one, I fully admit. But I've baked up a storm for the Super Bowl party and like any good plan it is starts tomorrow. I am going to take all the baked goods out next week to see if I can't start more steps forward again. 

And in related taking-steps-back news, I have never been a hot bath person. This is because I am a clean freak. And almost everywhere I've lived since the age of 21 has been a rental, and no matter how much I clean that tub, it still (emotionally) feels dirty and used to me. (I know. I know. Psychological field day.) 

And so it just became a habit to always shower. Even after a long day or when enduring a sickness, I'll take a nice long hot shower - not bath.

Well, this week broke me. I've taken a bath every night. I just needed to be surrounded, immersed; held.  And you know what? Baths are really nurturing! (Yes, you did know that.) This year's word of the year for me, if you recall, is Nourish. These baths have been quite nourishing to this slowly repairing body and fragile spirit. So that's something. 

Go Sports Team! Happy Super Bowl! An American holiday especially treasured by this fantasy football league winner right here.

(Photos of all the baked goods to come.)

4-6 Weeks

That's the estimated time to be back to some normal function from breaking a finger... or fracturing the proximal phalanx with damage to the proximal interphalangeal joint.

Well, Saturday was 6 weeks and those doctors aren't kidding! I've turned a huge corner, including typing at work this week all day - and not having to take a break with the left index finger aching. So I'll do my best to be back to blogging, and even though I can't lift anything for a couple more weeks, and I only have about 60% of my flexibility back, it sure is nice to have turned the corner.

#1 of 5

With no hesitation...
it is typing.

I'm not forgetting to email you, I'm not letting texts pile up. I'm saving myself a frustration level through the roof and saving my husband yet another cranky remark by not typing. CALL ME. Otherwise, I'll respond after March 2nd when this damn thing comes off.

#2 of 5

Opening a ziploc baggie. Try it. Tell me how fun it is. See how long it takes before you're frustrated with one hand behind your back.

#3 of 5

The number three? Using a q-tip in the opposite ear of the functioning hand. (Yeah, yeah, I know, you shouldn't use q-tips in your ear canals.)

#4 of 5

Fourth most annoying thing about being one handed? Blowing one's nose. It is infinitely less satisfying with one hand. Go on, give it a try...

#5 of 5

Fifth most annoying thing about being virtually one handed for 2.5 more weeks: squeezing toothpaste onto your toothbrush.

Jargon

While I'm using Google to frantically search "nonarticulated fracture" and "interphalangeal joint" to understand my x-ray results... to understand them more than "CHRIST, MY FINGER IS BROKEN" and then shuddering violently at the idea of hand surgery... ugh, shudder... violently... I must say it is not very nice, Mr. Radiologist Lab Dude, to tell me - in writing! - that the rest of my metacarpals are "unremarkable."

You, sir, did not see all the football catches I made in practice before the one I missed broke the proximal phalanx of my left index finger. They were great, and rather remarkable, if I do say so myself.

Healing Lessons

Many things learned from a broken index finger, so far, not the least of which is that typing takes a while...

Also, in the way your gramma told you put on clean underwear in case you're hit by a bus, I'm telling you you should do the dishes before leaving the house. Because if you break a finger with a sink full of dishes waiting at home, your spouse will be too busy taking you for x-rays and making you meals (adding to the dish pile...) and thus not have the time or the fortitude to wash the ever-more-intimidating pile.

Happy SuperBowl Sunday!

For the first time a few years, I'm missing the SuperBowl at Meggie and Eric's - what a bummer!!

I changed the comment settings, so anyone should be able to comment now, sorry 'bout that. And thanks for the comments, everyone. I absolutely love them. I'm still without a phone, so it's a real connection for me.

The only thing better than a SuperBowl Sunday nap in the jungle? A SuperBowl Sunday nap in the jungle with the rain, pattering on the tin roof above.

One pic for today: me in front of an anthill on a hike yesterday. (Yes, a hike. Me. On a hike. Mostly willingly. At the end of said hike was a waterfall, more pics soon.)