Here I am, here I am, How do you do?

Recognize something about that line? Hint of a melody perhaps in the back of your mind that tickles the memories. I am not surprised if it does. It’s part of a nursery rhyme from the Tommy Thumbs Pretty Song Book dated 1744.

Peter Pointer, Peter Pointer
Where are you?
Here I am, Here I am,
How do you do?

You might also recall it from something more modern…. Daddy Finger, Daddy Finger… It’s a delightful little jingle that will just linger (and linger, and linger) with you throughout the day. Yes, for hundreds of years, our digits, those dancing phalanges have been prime entertainment from our earliest days.

I mean, as humans, how could we learn without that primary sense of touch. It can convey to our other senses so much information. As I experience each day, my thoughts often dwell on my phalanges. (I actually greatly enjoy that word, not often heard, but packs a little punch each time you push past your teeth… +5 alliteration points for me today.)

Why, you might wonder? As any curious bystander should. Well, let me share, since that is the entire point of this activity.

The answer, for today, at the most base layer, is… chili. Yes, today’s phalange contemplation is brought to you by good ‘ole home-made chili. You see, I have “conditions”. shhhhhh. They are hidden conditions. Chronic. Peripheral. Neurological. Weee. I digress.

I made chili and from that chili were left-overs. I also happened to have hot dogs for my son. They are one of the few acceptable meal staples he will eat. For I felt the urge to eat some lunch and had a bit of a light bulb moment and realized I could make myself a chili dog. Completely naughty for my sensitive digestive system (which has been thoroughly abused my medications and poor choices) but delightful for my sudden craving for a chili dog! Score. But then! My husband had brought home Fritos. I had a choice before me. Chili dog or Frito PIE. Oh goodie of goodies. My future self would completely be fine with the heart burn from either choice.

But, but then flickering lightbulb of brownout surprise! I could marry the two. So I scooped up some chili, paired a hot dog and set it in the magical zapping power box and a minute later I delicately placed my fingers against the hot dog to hold it and begin slicing it, since I was totally gonna stir that weiner in my chili and fritos for full chili dog, frito pie delight… and…. It felt like I was touching… nothing. Literally, other than physical resistance stopping my fingers from movement, there was absolutely no temperature difference and I barely felt the poor little weiner beneath my fingers.

I have numbness and intermittent tingling or “pins-n-needles” that will come and go from my finger tips. Or on some of the fingers the sides. I’m in med changes right now so these past couple of weeks the finger tip sensations I’ve been dealing with have been rather bothersome. In fact, there have been a few times I just want to rub my fingers together and just scream a bit. It is SOOOOO annoying.

I don’t really have anything more to say about that. My chili-dog-frito-pie was delicious. My fingers are driving me nuts. When else can you cleanly say phalanges and weiners in the same sentence 🙂 tee hee hee