glass nightmare, fear, and a rightous riff

well it always can be worse... 8 fingers lack bandages.

the last two weeks have been rough. and there is my shoulder...

Ok, so I have ignored it for many a year, because it was generally OK as long as I did not put my hand behind my head or try to hit a ground hog with a stone. Basically I could get through life without much pain, and I am rather good at ignoring pain... had much training growing up.

But the last month or so has been different and with it becoming difficult to do much of anything... fear hit. Sure it is going to be cold and snowing this weekend, but spring gardening is coming and fear fear fear. The man of hope had given up on his bodies ability to heal by itself, so I called a doctor. X-rays today. PT next Monday. Return to doctor in 4 weeks. It feels bad, even for my tolerance to pain.

So last night Mosaic Woman says check this out... 12 HS jazz bands are playing at our local high school Friday night (tonight). I say, "cool I could use some live music" and to be filled with the hope that teens will keep jazz alive.

Six pieces of glass to go and 4 suncatchers will be set to foil. So into the studio I go. (OK, it's not the nest place for my shoulder) The first four go smoothly. Then I change glass and it ignores my score lines. The glass breaks underneath my pattern piece ripping it in half. Peeled off, glued back down... same thing. Again. I switch to a new type of glass throwing away anything left of the other glass. This one again goes off the score line. Now I am not centered. And a sharp point slices through my left middle finger just below the fingernail. I ignore it and again the glass breaks off score. The same sharp point now pierces my left index finger. The pattern pieces are a mess and blood is flowing out of both hands. Enough.

This morning in the shower a thought that has been recurring comes to mind. How does my long hair stay and my shoulder heal? and as the warm water flows over me, I think of the jazz concert...

and I this song comes to mind and to quote another song on Joe Jackson's tribute to early jazz...

Can you dig this righteous riff?

I can.... it makes me 9 foot tall when I am 4 feet high. Hip Hip!

peace.