Last year, Doug and I almost bought the world’s smallest violin. We came across it in the gift shop at, of all places, the Sherlock Holmes Museum over there at 221B Baker Street in London. It was less than an inch-long, and absolutely adorable. Why would we buy it? Well, don’t we all play it from time to time? We envisioned using it as a trophy–the kind you don’t want to win or earn–for whenever a household member was going on and on. You know: Those “woe is me” type of moments. Continue reading
After seven weeks of pain, I finally got an answer today on what exactly was wrong with my left ankle. I injured it on June 6, while dancing to Hava Nagila at my son’s Bar Mitzvah. I was having a blast and thinking about how much fun I was having. Then I kicked my leg out, bent my knee and went to put my foot on the ground and felt something “go.” I quickly extricated myself from the dance and then the dance floor.
We seldom take the time to celebrate in life, and we had paid dearly to have our family and friends with us to celebrate this joyous day, so there was no way that I was letting any injury take away from our celebration. Instead, I hobbled around and did what needed to be done, thinking that I’d feel better the next day. Or perhaps the next day. Or the day after. Continue reading