these words are the bestest

Generally speaking, I'm a big fan of words. I like the way different letters relate to one another visually. I like word games. I like tinkering with words. I like the sound of words like "tinkering." I like just about everything about them. But, since my right hand was casted, I'm especially fond of a certain group of words — those that can be found on the left side of home row.

I decided to create a running list of these words. It's been fun. My friends Colin and Joe even chimed in that the longest word possible on the south side of the keyboard is: stewardesses. I had no idea. I also noticed that if you're going compose sentences on the left side, they'll all have to be exclamatory because the only punctuation on my new favorite side is an exclamation point. You can, however, vary the number of exclamation points for extra EMPHASIS (YOU ALSO HAVE THE CAPS LOCK BUTTON)!!!! 

Anyway, here's my running list. Feel free to add some of your own in the comments section. You can even put an exclamatory sentence together, if you feel like it.

tread creed raze axe
cave swerve trade trader
grave best bestest were
wad weeds crease grease
wart fart free as
test testes texas verve
swagger craze greatest raw
wax trade sax  vexes
dread gas crass west
vest zest Qatar stewardesses
rear exact dates rates
rat drat err tweed
dazed desert sexes fever
era dessert

Yeah. Let's end with dessert!!!!!!

Attention (photo)shoppers

A week ago, Wednesday, I took a tumble on my bicycle, and I have been left-handed ever since.  The transition from right-handedness to lefty hasn't been a smooth one. It seems that my left is connected to someone else's brain. I know, it surprised me too.

My friend, Colin rightly pointed out that I would likely feel sorry for myself and then feel sorry for feeling sorry for myself. It's difficult to stay down long when a broken hand is exceedingly minor compared with disabilities and circumstances that many in our global population deal with daily. When on this topic with my friend Josh, he added, "Yeah, you know you see those people on teevee that come home from Iraq missing an arm and a leg that are saying, 'oh I'm just so blessed...!'" (that's a lot of punctuation right there!!!). :) 

It was time for me to suck my over-sized bottom lip (it's not swollen, I was born that way) back into place and follow Monty Python's counsel and "always look at the bright side of life." (Song bomb alert!)

I thought back to grade (hey, you can type "grade" with only your left hand home row style) school when I was actually envious of  kids who had casts. I admit, it doesn't make sense. But, it was because they got to have everyone write, draw, scrawl and scribble all over it. It's like a Tattoo 2.0  — everyone gets to contribute to the body art. Cast signing is also great for those of us that just find thousands of needle pokes too high a price to pay for self-expression.

So, I have an idea I'd like to float by you:
  • Save the image above (me and my cast) to your hard drive
  • Open the image in a photo-editing software (Photoshop or whatever. Heck, I bet MS Paint would work)
  • Write, draw, scrawl and scribble on the cast
  • Save the image and email it to me: rydanoel@gmail.com
  • I'll post it back to the blog (unless you'd just rather I didn't.)
I think this could be a fun little little exercise that could have us all feeling better.


Cycles and Seasons

Life's been cycling all over the place. Sarah's granddad, Arnold  (Arnie, for short. One character short, in fact) died about a week and a half ago; my own grandmother (grandma for short), Marian died early yesterday morning; Simeon is nearly 10 months old and is developing faster than a polaroid picture; and I could, and maybe I will, fill and entry or 10 about each of those precious marks on my timeline. But, the occasion I really want to mark in this entry is my 8th wedding anniversary to Sarah. 

If marriage is seasonal as most things are, I think this anniversary marks the end of the first season and the beginning of the next. That's worth celebrating if you ask me. If you've read any of my blog entries over the past year and a half, you know that I'm not perfect. And in spite of what I might have you believe, Sarah's not perfect either. But, when you combine me and my imperfections and Sarah and her imperfections, well, you have a perfect fit. And that's worth celebrating too. 

I love you deeply, Sarah. Thank you for loving me back.


Low Five

For the second time in as many years, I ran the Indianapolis Mini Marathon. It was much more fun than running 13.1 miles should be. The high points far outnumbered the low ones. Come to think of it, there really was just one low point. 

One of the coolest aspects of the race is the number of spectators who line the course with cowbells and full voice to encourage you to keep running, and running, and running. Often times they'll even personalize the encouragement by reading the name on your bib. They might say, "Go Ryan," "You can do it, Ryan," or "Don't die, Ryan." 

I was cruising along, feeling good at about mile 6. There was a stretch of spectators up ahead on the right side of the course who were particularly boisterous. I worked my way from the center of the course over to the right to be a recipient of their well-wishes and to thank them. As I approached, I saw an older man (60s or early 70s I'm guessing) passing out high-fives. I thought, "Hey, I'd like one of those." The man slapped hands with the runners in front of me one by one. I raised my hand in anticipation.


The man put his hand down just as I ran by. He left me hanging in front of 30,000 people, 3 or 4 of which chuckled behind me. It was as if he looked at me and thought, "don't high five this guy, he has Swine Flu, I'm sure of it." Definitely the low point.

Fortunately for me, a square dancing troupe would be just around the corner to cheer me up.