I thought that perhaps using some energy pre-game would quiet me down during game time. A party to be left unnamed told me after Game One that my loud cheering and caterwauling could be heard two houses down the road. And I have my reputation as a calm, quiet and reserved elder to maintain!
The game played, the lasagna cooked and eventually I went to bed. The Phillies won the game, I went hoarse (again) from screaming, and I left the lasagna in the oven because it was too hot to stick in the fridge.
I woke up early and my first thought was to get the lasagna out of the oven and into the refrigerator. Somehow as I tried shoving the heavy glass pan in between a package of fresh kale, some glass bowls and a tub of ricotta I lost control of the pan and caught it three-fingered before it fell to the floor. Whew!
Look at that! Just watching the fantastic post-season action has improved my fielding. Now if we could work on my sliding - that seems like a great way to impress folks if you're running late!
Sadly, the strange lasagna-pan-catch twisted my hand, which resulted in a pulled tendon between my pointer and middle fingers. Not a big deal - but it did require me to rest my right hand for a couple days (except for knitting - because that didn't bother my hand at all - and knitting is a sport that helps me maintain that calm, quiet, reserved elder facade).
So I couldn't write (right hand) or type. There'd been a lull in my writing anyhow - couldn't seem to find anything compelling enough to finish. This added problem had me wondering how I was ever going to get words on paper? I decided to take a leisurely soak in the tub. It's amazing how many great ideas I get while I'm 3/4 under water.
I read poetry while I soaked. I remembered the trusty little voice recorder I'd used in a few interviews and realized that I could speak my ideas into it until I could use my right hand again.
I stepped out of the tub and immediately got further fired up by another thought - writing naked. Not literally naked - which isn't terribly practical since my office windows have no curtains (and besides I'd surely lose concentration). NO, literally naked wasn't a big draw - I was going to do the naked thing metaphorically. I wanted to write looser, freer - dropping anything that stood between me and the reader.
But how to write naked metaphorically? Well, to start off I figured I should go with the literal thing to the best of my abilities. Not really naked (windows, hygienic conditions, concentration, etc) but at least less dressed. Without even drying off I threw on my robe and headed straight to the office with my hair still floppy, soppy wet.
I grabbed the voice recorder and ideas started spilling. What began as: "Oh man, now what am I going to do?" when I realized I couldn't use my hand to write - turned into: "WOW! Am I full of ideas or what?"
Amazing - a couple small changes - writing naked (ok, dressing less) and using a recorder instead of a pen or keyboard - yielded big results! Want to join me? We could create a (metaphorical) nudist revolution!! But I think we'll have to give up on that calm, quiet, reserved elder thing.