So… I’ve been feeling some kind of way about this project for a little bit. Since last we talked the local ren faire scene has become so weird and chaotic recently that it’s been covered on fricking NPR. So it came to pass that last weekend I went to an SCA event in called the Kitsap Medieval Fair, which was both delightful and open to the public (handy, since I’m not a member of the SCA). I was in civilian clothes, so only close friends spotted me as I walked by in my ball cap and shoulder sling…

Chatting with the many artisans displaying their pursuits in the Arts & Sciences building really did wonders to re-light the desire to push this project forward. I really needed something to reignite that in me and I thank the SCA for doing me a solid like that.

Yeah, about that stupid sling.

This isn’t the first time this project has suffered due to my shoulder’s unwillingness to put up with my nonsense. Believe me, I’m in the middle of a kitchen remodel as well as all the irons I put in the fire for this blog that have yet to reach temperature, so I feel the disappointment too.

Luckily, many joiner-related projects (tools) were done and photographed last summer and just never got a proper write-up. So I just have to find a moment when I’m not actively in pain or physical therapy (followed by pain for dessert) to… you know… write that up.

My shoulder started hurting last July or August and progressively got worse as the months rolled by. Because I’ve rehabbed a shoulder before, my first response was to grab a ceiling pulley and some Thera-Bands of myriad colors and recommence the exercises the physio gave me last time.

Then I watched in real time as my range of motion decreased instead of increasing as I got the sinking feeling in my stomach that told me I was probably going to have another lost summer.

After a month and a half of physical therapy, my GP finally sent me to an orthopedist, who told me to stop going to the physical therapists I was seeing and try a different one for six weeks before we decide if surgery will be necessary.

I was grateful for his first impulse not being the knife. The last surgeon I encountered wasn’t nearly so reticent to cut.

In all honestly, I’ve never been enthusiastic about investigating the trade of the Barber-Surgeon. I mean, I’d probably give a mean hot towel and shave if I had both good hands, but I’m not planning to pull any teeth or cut any bones anytime soon.

Can the new physio balance my humors and avoid a trip to the sawbones? Only time and something-something House of Aquarius mumble-something black bile thing and stuff will tell. Like I said, I haven’t really looked into it yet.