Noodle Hands

I've been thinking about Noodle Hands on a daily basis since my friend told me her story last week. She'd flown in late the previous Saturday, her flight having been delayed several hours, after a week spent at a grueling workshop. Her husband, who she'd called ahead from Seattle to alert to her delayed, starving, and tired state, picked her up from the airport at close to midnight to whisk her home, where she expected to find a cooked dinner or, at least, a sandwich awaiting her. She discovered a fridge devoid of even so much as a slice of bologna: nothing having been bought since her departure seven days prior. Her husband, it seemed, had been struck with a week-long case of severe  "Noodle Hands," wherein, should you raise your hands before you like a puppy begging a treat, your fingers only flop about uselessly, like overdone noodles caught in the breeze. Fortunately, my friend was saved from starvation by a frozen dinner she was able to chisel out of the bottom of her deep freeze.

Noodle Hands is a tragic affliction. Now that I have a name for it, I am noticing it everyplace. Like in the mirror. Today is the day I promised to re-start my blog after my two-month sabbatical (a.k.a.riot of indolence and sloth), so I woke up knowing what I had to do. After all, both of my readers might be checking. Must post. I sat down at my keyboard first thing after coffee to discover my hands were missing their bones. Noooooo. Could I diagnose the cause and recover in time?

Starting a blog is fun because it is a blank slate with no readers and no expectations other than to practice your writing and play with ideas and pictures. Then you do it for a couple of years, conning your relatives and friends into reading it once in a while, and, next thing you know, you are taking yourself way too seriously, worrying about whether you have run out of good posts or might disappoint someone. Like when you learn to ride a bike and are seized by a major "yikes" moment, thinking what if I fall?, when you first apprehend that you are peddling on your own.

Perhaps I over-thought a bit. Over-thinking is my thing, as in nemesis. Whew. In year four of teaching myself to relax, which process the actual blogging has helped a lot with, I've discovered it is insanely helpful, when overwhelmed, to break a task down into parts and tackle them each in turn whilst affecting nonchalance. Open blog, write blog, add picture, post, learn. I really like blogging and want to (nonchalantly) continue.  My new blogging mantra: relax, breathe, try, keep it simple, keep it light.  And that's how I cured myself of Noodle Hands in eight hours or less.

You can, too. If you ever become afflicted, just remember to relax, breathe, try, keep it simple, keep it light. Welcome back to my un-serious blog. Don't expect much and I won't disappoint!