Now it’s my turn. There is much more collateral fall-out from the soccer event that caused the buckle fracture of my right wrist than who will write the next column. But, again lots of opportunity to make lemonade. And if you frequently read Age-wise you must have picked up my penchant for all things lemon.

Let’s start with the fact that most of my lemons (issues), now that I am incapacitated, are tied to being a woman. However, I can imagine that a man would also have some lemons to deal with should he fracture his right wrist and be right-handed. Think how he might feel having his wife cut his meat if he were a butcher or taking a cab if he were a truck driver.

You need to know a few things about me to understand the issues.  I am very vain about my hair. I am a left-handed mouse manipulator.  Cooking is second nature for me as is multitasking.

My garden grows well and it is extensive. And last but not least, it is not second nature for me to ask for help or put another way, I do not easily turn my destiny over to others.

The most unsweetened pitcher of lemonade was dealing with my hair. Going gray suddenly became a reality not an option. There is no neat and easy way to do touch-ups between shampoos when sporting a cast.  So now I am a bonified, almost there, gray headed, soccer playing grandmother.  Also, I have yet to find the man (except a licensed hairdresser) who can manipulate a hairdryer and brush at the same time to assist his incapacitated wife. Please call in if you are fortunate to have a spare one around. Consequently, a short haircut is the answer. That, for me automatically means instant waves and curls, ugh!

As if these two major concessions were not enough, now the magazines and so-called helpful friends tell me, “You must amp up your make-up. – pick a rich lip color, wear blush, brighten up your eyes, forget basic black, choose soft and vibrant colors, avoid browns, orange and metallic colors.” Add another ten minutes to my morning routine and new additions to a wardrobe is what it really means.

It doesn’t end there. It seems that going naturally gray can include several types of graying that demand specially designed shampoos.  Shampoos have been created to take care of frizzy gray, faded gray/blonde and gray that lacks volume. I still haven’t determined what kind of gray I will have when the process is over. However, this lemon has definitely been turned into lemonade. It is liberating to not color my hair every time I shampoo.  I think I’ m going to like having more gray hair than my ninety-one year old mother (she still colors her hair and looks and acts seventy-five).

Thank goodness I have always been a left-handed mouse manipulator. That strength has made it possible for me to master eating with my left hand. And at a recent meal in a Japanese restaurant I discovered that I manage chopsticks better with my left hand than I ever did with my right. 

However, having a strong left hand has not made it possible for me to drive one-handed. 

Fortunately we live in walking distance of many places I frequent on a regular basis, like a gym, my office, and downtown Saratoga. 

Now for the sweetest pitcher of lemonade. The increase in walking is a good thing that had actually started pre-fracture because of gas prices. Although I feel a bit more vulnerable walking with one damaged wing, I cross Route 50 several times a week at a place where the new walk lights have not yet been activated and the traffic light is only activated by a car passing under a camera eye. One could stand at the corner of Rock Street and Route 50 endlessly on the way to spinning class at 5:30 a.m. waiting for a car to trip the light.

I decided to contact the New York State Department of Transportation to find out why equipment installed some seven months ago was still not operational. And herein lies the sweetest lemonade. After a few calls and some research by a very helpful and sincere employee, I feel confident that my call will result in some action. Hey, I guess you could say this is “gray power making lemonade!”

How’s that for humble pie – turning my destiny over to someone else. I already told you it’s not an easy thing to do. It stops there. Though my family and friends have been generous with chauffeuring me around when needed, you can be assured I am really a human GPS system telling the driver which street to take and where to turn.

Despite these helpful friends and family, I must admit that I am stretching the limits. But the challenge is ever present to see how much weeding can be accomplished with one hand or how many cucumbers can be sliced before I cry uncle. It was especially gratifying to press pants with my left hand and get a perfect crease.  But the topper is managing to type this column without having to dictate it to my writing partner. Ah, sweet lemonade.