A Horse of a Different Color

This afternoon Handsome and I decided to play a little 'Horse' out on the basketball court. I was a little excited about this since it's been very hard to get him off the new online game he's found, called 'Minecraft'.

"It's summertime, for God's sake," I tell him."Go out and get some fresh air, run about a bit, get some exercise!

For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the game, or maybe call it by another name, I'll explain:

You take turns shooting the ball, until someone gets it in. Then everyone who's playing has to make that exact shot, in turn, from the same place and in the same way the successful shooter did it. If you miss, you get an 'H'. The game continues, people who miss when trying to mimic a successful shot getting the 'O', then the 'R', etc, until they have the whole word -- then they're out of the game. Last man standing wins.

Well, Handsome started the strangeness. He decided to try doing the goofiest things he could think of, in hopes that he would make the shot and then I would have to be just as goofy. He made silly faces, did the 'Squidward Dance' (SpongeBob fans, you know what I'm talking about!)and did several things that put me in mind of the Ministry of Silly Walks (Monty Python fans, now you know what I'm talking about!).

His growing facility with the basketball, not to mention his constantly increasing height, meant that I occasionally found myself doing some very odd things out in the middle of the street, where the hoop stands.

In retaliation, I decided to try to start getting him ready for wrestling in the Fall. I did push-ups, then took a shot. I did squat-thrusts and took a shot. I did reverse bridges and took a shot. I did push-ups using the ball, and last but not least I did clapping push-ups.

When I did the clapping push-ups, Handsome quit.

"I can't do those! he said. "I've never been able to do those!"

"Maybe not," I said. "But you can try."

Since he was fairly certain he wouldn't succeed, he didn't want to try. Trying to motivate him, I agreed to try my hardest to do something I had never been able to do. We were both surprised when I actually succeeded, and he did try and he also succeeded in doing a couple of clapping push-ups.

The upshot of this is that I, at 43 years of age, never going to a gym, and being at least 20 lbs overweight, did my first one-armed push-up.

I did two of them.

Mid-way through the second one, Handsome and I both heard something in me, somewhere, crack quite audibly. It may have been several places simultaneously, I'm not sure. For a while I was afraid it was one of my testicles just dropping off from the strain, but I think I'm good there.

I do know that at least one of the cracking places was my right shoulder, as right now I'm typing this all left-handed. My right arm appears to be on strike. No swelling or anything, no real pain either, but it's the weirdest thing: every time I try to do anything with my right arm now all that happens is it cranks around to give me the finger.

I got some strange looks in the supermarket this evening when I was trying to get the Cheeze-its off the top shelf. I did apologize to the nun.

So I'm off to work on recording something for a podcast I'm now occasionally narrating for, and then I'll practice signing my name lefty for a while -- I have to go to the bank tomorrow, and I'm not sure my right arm will be behaving by then. Then I'm for bed.

Talk to you later!

...unless of course my right arm gets the notion to strangle me in my sleep. Oops! Crap... I hope it can't read...