Single-handed

Anyone who knows me from Facebook knows that I've recently had the misfortune of falling, not once, but twice in the past week: once, tripping over the hose in my own patio, and, one week later, over my own feet (or the curb) in La Jolla. Not pleasant experiences: the first left me with some nasty bruises and enough pain in my knee that I was driven to google "kneecap pain" to see if it signified anything  serious. But, it was the second fall what did me in. Landing almost identically to the previous effort, I found that this time, my left hand was hurting pretty badly. I went to the doctor. A pile of X-rays later, plus some poking and prodding and "does this hurt? What about this?" And he proclaimed a navicular fracture. Which he promptly enclosed in a cast. Instant immobility for my left hand.

Leaving out the pain and annoyance, I am hereby noting for your enjoyment and edification a partial list of things one CANNOT do with one hand:
1- Open anything. Toothpaste. Jars. Zippered bags. Ziplock anything. My wallet. Anything with buttons, hooks and eyes, or zippers.
2- Close seat belts, snaps, or adjust straps (like the one on my sling)
3- Get dressed (see above on all sorts of fasteners)
4- Put on or pull up socks. Tie shoes.
5- Tear off toilet paper or paper towels from a roll.
6- Open Tylenol bottle, or other containers.
7- Put a bag in an overhead bin on a plane.
8- Hold on--to a railing, an escalator, a handrail on an airport tram--while carrying anything.
9- Make a cup of tea.
10- Wash your hair
11-Lift anything of any substance.
12- Read a paperback without something to hold the left side of the book.
13- Make a bed
14- Wring out a washcloth
15- Fold anything
16- Pack a suitcase

But...much as I enjoy complaining about my klutziness and the prospect of wearing this infernal cast for an as-yet undetermined length of time, and the possibility of surgery, physical therapy, and other undesirable stuff, I can't help playing the "It could be worse"  game. It could have been my right wrist, it could have been BOTH wrists. I could have broken a leg or torn something in my knee or hit my head...I didn't.  Even worse, there are lots of folks whose situations make my puny broken wrist look negligible...Who am I to complain about  inconvenience? I can handle this. Well, maybe not 'handle' ...I'm a bit short of hands lately...

Fat Robin

He barrels in out of the sky,
Fat Robin. A feathered softball
of a bird, beak jutting,
fluffing his wings, strutting,
eyeing the scrawny sparrows,
finding them wanting.

In the patio pool and bird-bar
that is my backyard fountain,
Fat Robin is that tipsy,
belligerent, tweeting barfly
challenging resident crows,
bullying even the bluejay.

He cannonballs
into the fountain bowl with
a chirped "Geronimo!"
A gout of water erupts,
scattering timid onlookers while
he blithely orders another round.

Birdbrain.

Sick Commute and Free Doughnuts

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“Sick Commute and Free Doughnuts”?

(Reading the online news)

It’s a weird sort of poetry: 

juxtaposed headlines from

the metropolitan area  

wadded together in

mind-boggling, strung-together,

stream-of-consciousness assemblage.

My day begins with bizarre

bullet-pointed information:

news in haiku form…

I.

“Celebrate Fairfax!

Sick commute and free doughnuts.”

Today’s news in brief!

 II.

“Three fatalities.

Teacher arrested at school.”

Tears with today’s news…

Tease out the threads of

diverse stories;

click and search, then click again,

following, following,

till you, like Theseus,

(beset by Furies)

wind your way

story by story,

newsflash by newsflash,

out of (or into)

the Minotaur’s cave.