No More Two-Fisted Flying . . .
My splint came off on Saturday, so I'm blogging two-fisted again. I'm also back to my two-fisted dishwashing. And my two-fisted walking. And two-fisted teaching. Two-fisted reading, too.
Look, it's all two-fisted now, okay?
Except for flying. No more of that, not even one-fisted.
My wrist is still sore from that last flight, and if I'm not careful and twist it the wrong way, I cry out a little two-fisted involuntary "Ouch!"
If my son happens to hear, he comes over, gently touches my arm, and asks in his little boy's voice, "It hurts?"
And I am graced with a moment of unclenched fists . . .