Of Breaking Bones and Polish Moms

I haven't written in a few days because I broke my wrist.

It was the 'OMG Tri-Fecta'; broken bone (right wrist)/right-handed/no insurance. Woo-hoo!

So, the break is at the same angle at which you would slice a french loaf; it's off-center, but "Should heal OK." I ask, "Can't you just stretch it and pop it in place and then cast it"? He says, "We could, but you'd have to have constant pull for a while to keep it in position...there's no way to do that."

HA! Polish Mom=bowling balls!!

This can only end funny. I'm headed to my parents' to walk around their house with a bowling ball in my hand hanging from a cast on my arm.

Now, there's no time anyone has ever wished for door-to-door solicitors, but I can only hope one comes to my parents' door. Really.