I swear. This new blog editing software is driving me crazy. (My dad says it’s a short trip. Everyone’s a comedian.) But seriously. Yesterday I couldn’t find the spell checker, and now I’m typing NEXT to my daily selfie instead of UNDER it.

Technology is so hard. (Okay, I figured it out.)

Something else that’s hard is living life on one leg, which I’ve been doing for a solid week now, ever since I injured my left knee during a dance performance. No shit. Everything that I used to do so easily–like putting on my underwear, tying my shoes, and going to the bathroom–now requires a five-step plan. Earlier I hobbled into the kitchen to refill my cup of coffee and literally had to strategize about how to get it back to the living room, since I couldn’t exactly use my walker and hold onto my beverage at the same time. Well, I ended up scooting the drink on the counter beside me until I made it out of the kitchen, then stood between the counter and an end table and passed the cup from one hand to the other, then REEEEEA-CHED for the edge of the table. Thankfully, this worked.

The things we do for caffeine.

Earlier today I stumbled across an internet article about a guy who lost his left leg to cancer when he was nine and now creates funny Halloween costumes around the whole situation. I guess it all started as a joke several years ago when he decided to be a gingerbread man whose leg had been “bitten” off. Anyway, what a fabulous reminder that you can make the best of a bad situation. And obviously we humans can learn to adapt. This guy seems to get around fabulously and can even balance himself upside down on his crutches. (Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not going to try anything stupid.)

Despite this inspiration, I don’t mind saying that having a bum leg is a serious drag. (Get it–a serious DRAG?) Even before this accident, for weeks, I haven’t taught a single dance lesson and have been strapped for cash. Then today–out of the blue–a woman calls and says she’s interested in learning to jitterbug. Ever the optimist, I thought, Surely I could TALK her and her husband through learning at least the basics. But then–with actual enthusiasm–she said, “I don’t have a partner!” Normally this wouldn’t be a problem–I could dance with her–but in my current condition, there’s no way in hell. Geez. The universe can be a real bastard sometimes. Who dangles the proverbial carrot in front of someone while knowing full well there’s NO WAY they can even come close to taking a bite of it?

Talk about a twisted sense of humor.

Speaking of a twisted sense of humor, last night’s holiday variety show at the little theater went–uh–okay, at least with respect to our musical improv number. Personally, I think the night before went better. But these things happens. “What’s a place that puts you in the holiday spirit?” we always ask at the beginning of the show. Well get this shit. Last night some broad says, “Sea World!” The night before someone said, “Walmart.” (What the hell is wrong with people?) Anyway, last night we sang about Christmas at Sea World, and it was–um–challenging. That being said, one guy in our group (not me) absolutely saved us with his last verse about Orca Whales. (Phew.)

This is the deal with improv comedy. Sometimes you do something good (fabulous even), sometimes you do something mediocre, and sometimes you flop. I guess the important thing is to try, to put yourself out there. The guy in our group who saved us was literally flopping around on stage like a whale, and it was a smash. Later he said, “I’m just not afraid of being embarrassed.” No kidding, this is the secret to good comedy. Maybe to life. You gotta be willing to put yourself out there. In my second improv skit, my partner pretended to be a drunk woman at a holiday office party, and the next thing I knew he was diving through an invisible laminating machine. It was hilarious.

Maybe you would have had to have been there.

These, I think, are the ones we admire, the ones we stand in awe of from a distance, the ones who are willing to dare and live fully in the moment. Yesterday on the way home from the theater, I was thinking about how much grief I’ve given my body over the years, mostly for not looking like HIS. So much time I’ve spent being disappointed in a perfectly good body–a body that had two working legs!–legs that carried me anywhere I wanted to go, legs that danced, and legs that gave, and gave, and gave. Talk about not being on your own team. Anyway, now one of my legs is asking for a break (no pun intended), so I’m doing my best to finally listen to my body, give it time to heal, and appreciate it for what it is and what it CAN do. Hopefully, we’ll come through this situation less embarrassed, more willing to live each moment as fully as possible, together.