This blog is no longer a cute, sunny space for musings on parenthood and theater and cake. No, it’s now a forum, a safe space for people with sciatica pain, or maybe a herniated disc? to come together and learn, moan, commiserate, wax poetic, maybe have a laugh, but probably Not. I’m officially in week 6 of whatever is happening in my back and legs, as a deeply impatient, prone to hyperbole, low-pain threshold person. I’m awaiting an MRI and have started physical therapy and now know what the word ‘Flexion’ means and even how to pronounce it. Basically I’m fine unless I’m sitting, driving, moving, bending down, lifting Joe, laying down, thinking, breathing, or existing. I want to explain how it feels, like really capture it with words, so that I might Own it, set it free? Or not. It’s like a cohort of tiny elves are strategically placed up and down your leg, from your butt to your toes. They’re each armed with tiny passion of the Christ crown of thorns that they microwave for about 45 seconds, not hot, not cold. When you move, they either stab you with the thorns, or slowly grate them up and down your nerve as if plucking a harp, but not for music, and with Thorns. It’s 2 months til 40, it’s stretches that unlock middle school cheerleading feelings, IT IS THORNS.