circus season

We interrupt this string of rather bleak posts to remind you that we still prefer to have fun on this blog. And by 'we,' I refer to myself and my contingent of hook-armed rabbits. If you haven't read about the hook-armed rabbits unearthed a few years back in my grandparents basement, you should do so now. It is well worth your while.

[I am suddenly struck by the strangeness of the phrase 'well worth your while'. What does it mean, anyway? What is my while and how does one determine its worth. A more skilled speaker of the English language, please advise.]

But speaking of hook-armed rabbits, Ferb and Mrs. Ferb (sadly, still nameless due to my shameless laziness and adult onset memory loss--someone did suggest a good name and I forgot it), have recently had a wardrobe change. Now that Ferb has discovered Finneas' custom-designed mitten fits his arm perfectly, I'm not sure we'll be able to get it away from him.

Autumn is well underway and I've got the itch. I want change, something different. I want to be reminded that I'm alive, and Little Gen flushing the toilet while I am in the shower, causing an unannounced 20 degree change in water temperature, just isn't going to cut it. I'm hungry to move and stretch and grow.

So I did what everyone would do, I went to an aerial fabrics class. What is aerial fabrics, you ask? Can I say 'gymnastics on fabric'? Imagine a huge ribbon of fabric hanging from the ceiling, on which a person climbs, hangs, spins, and generally makes gravity appear inconsequential. I personally was barely able to get my feet off the ground, and my arm is still sore. And in case you are wondering, no, this is not something that people with chronic fatigue generally get into, but I am, apparently, a glutton for punishment.

But once I managed to get on the fabric, I did attempt, and nearly achieve one of the more difficult maneuvers of spinning and pulling my legs into a sitting position. And of course, everyone was very impressed. If you've got one arm, it doesn't take much.

In a move of excitement and poor scheduling, I am also going to my first vaulting class this week in over a year. Suffice it to say, I should be well on my way to spending the weekend in bed. But now I am curious to know, in addition to horses and fabric, on what else one might do gymnastics. This exploration may require an entirely new blog...

But maybe this overindulgence in recreational activity will take care of the itch, and I can go back to pumpkin spice lattes and English muffins with raspberry, ginger and red chile jam. If you have not tasted Heidi's raspberry, ginger and red chile jam, consider yourself deprived. Thanks to cousin D for my introduction this past summer. I bought three jars at the grower's market last weekend.

What I should be thinking about is finishing up my nearly finished book proposal and getting a query letter in the mail, or email in this case. I've decided to approach an agent in Massachusetts, where coincidentally, Boo alerted me this week, a man has recently had arm transplants. That's right, somebody's generously donated arms were surgically attached to his stubs. Talk about a fingerprinting nightmare.

I would like to ponder this phenomenon at length, but between horse dancing and fabric gymnastics, I simply have no time for transplanted appendages.

OneArmGirl