This is a test of the OneArmGirl posting system....

...this is only a test. Had this been an actual post, you would have been entertained, then directed to proceed gleefully with your day.

wined, dined, and pooped

True to form, I got sick, sucked down into the Bermuda Triangle of activity clusters that comprised my weekend. Actually, I didn't even make it to Monday, but woke up Sunday morning and thought "uh-oh, this isn't good."

Strangely enough, not one bit of my packed weekend had scheduling conflicts. It just so happened that a vaulting conference started Friday morning, followed by the Friday night service at my church, then my fellow fabric dancing friend's birthday party in the mountains, where entertainment included a live blue grass band, aerial fabrics, and suspension--you know, where people hang from hooks in their skin.

Pretty much how I felt all weekend.

I only made it halfway through the band because I had to get up early to go back to the conference for a therapeutic vaulting clinic. I joined an MD and a PT to show other physical therapists how moving around on the back of a horse can be great for people with disabilities. This really boiled down to watching a group of middle-aged women jump onto a horse-sized barrel with iron handles. But they were game.

I did manage to squeeze a nap in Saturday afternoon before meeting my friend Heidi, who also happens to be Stubby's mom, for dinner and a performance by AXIS, a dance company based in Oakland that integrates disabled and able-bodied dancers. I was particularly moved by a piece called Color Me Different. According to the program, it explores the effect we, as individuals, have on each other when we make contact. It was actually uncomfortable to watch. But I liked it.

The whole thing made me wish, not for the first time, that I lived in a bigger city where I could get involved in projects like this. Though I found myself wondering why showcasing disability in dance so often has to be uncomfortable and harsh. Are they trying to make the audience see how intense we disabled folk are? Because sometimes I just eat ice cream bars and watch old episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Would it kill them to have one feel good piece, say, to the tune of "I Could Have Danced All Night." Just sayin'.

After the show, I went home and to bed. And that's as far as I got. I would have gone back to the vaulting conference on Sunday, but my body had other plans. Plans that involved bed, and tissues, and Robitussin.

My perfect vaulting horse

I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again, this getting sick from over-exertion is the toughest handicap I have. The weekend was filled with my kind of stuff, aside from the suspension, but it pushed me into the red zone. Somewhat ironically, disability-related activities did me in.

It kinda hurts because these are things I really care about. But I know I've asked too much of myself...again. And curled up under my covers on Sunday, I feel like I'll be lucky if I ever feel well enough to make toast.

Disconcerting thoughts bounce around my serene bedroom. Who do I think I am? Most normal people don't aspire to hanging around on silk ribbons. A lot of women my age are two or three kids in, knee-deep in  diapers. They don't have time to think about joining the circus.

I envy those women. Yet, somehow I'm not cut out for that mold. Sometimes I feel like I am constantly, almost obsessively, breaking it.

Then again, my bed is soft and the blinds are turned up so the light shoots toward the ceiling just the way I like it. I enjoy one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard: silence. I'm relieved to be home.

"This above all: to thine own self be true..." said Polonius to his son Laertes.

I guess it's all we can really be.

OneArmGirl