March 24, 2009 stiff
Ah, now there's a word I know! Stiff. One might think that someone so squishy would be more familiar with a word like "pliable". Nay, not so. Under these layers of semi malleable flesh are some rather stiff old bones. When I was young, and might I add foolishly naive, I swore I would never no never ever waddle when I walked like my beloved Aunt Mary did. I loved her, no question, but I was not ever going to make my way down the sidewalk shifting from side to side like the robot in Lost In Space on Krispy Kreme Steroids. Alas.
The last month or so I have had issues with the pinky finger on my left hand. It started on a Thursday night when John and I were teaching barre chords in our guitar class. I do not like barre chords, and they do not like me. I avoid them as often as I can, which is partly why I write songs because I have complete control over what voicings I want in my songs. But in fairness to our fabulous intermediate/advanced students we had to play the neck and teach them about transposing, etc...so out came the barre chords sliding up and down the neck of our guitars. Of course the teacher has to make her strings ring as clear as possible, so I was really yelling at my fingers that night, insisting they suck it up and deal with behaving maturely. So my pinky finger on my chording hand, sweet thing that she is, kept trying and trying in spite of the fact that she is double jointed and really not happy stretching forth and reaching outside her comfort zone. By the end of the night I had to put her under hot running water just to comfort her. That poor finger has been in pain ever since. I thought it was just a result of the strain, but its been long enough and I am thinking that my whip snapping pushed her over the edge and Arthur took over. Arthur Itis. He always comes to visit people in our family. He's that greasy haired yellow toothed uncle with an obnoxious sense of humor and bad breath. He comes in and sits on the good furniture and turns on the TV and never leaves. Blasted old Uncle Arthur.
I think it ironic that they call someone who has died "stiff". Of course it sounds logical, since their bodies really are stiff. But the reality is that the timeless spirit that took shelter in that body all those years before is finally free to move without one iota of pain. We should really rejoice in that! I am for sure going to do a back flip when I am done with my old Stiff! The back flip I kept daring myself to do off the diving board when I was a kid. The one I never did have the courage to try. If I die guys, just imagine me doing that!