Chewing gum and baling wire

I grew up in rural Illinois, in a small dairy farming town west of Chicago. I belonged to 4-H. There was no store to make a quick run to if you ran out of something, so an expression I learned early was that things could be held together with chewing gum and baling wire. (It also means I know what baling wire is, it’s used to tie up bales of hay, and gets re-used for lots of ad hoc repairs.)

About 5 years ago my right hand got glitchy, so between books I took myself to see the orthopedic hand surgeon. His conservative (and effective) remedy was a small off the shelf splint which kept the joint stable. Lately the splint hasn’t been quite enough, and another joint has gotten into the act. A return trip to the orthopedic practice, and a consult with two amazing physical therapists who put their heads together to figure out how to stabilize the joints and still let me type and I now have two snazzy custom splints to wear when I am at the keyboard. They are fabulous, and fabulously violet. Most fabulously of all they work, so I can work. 

I feel a bit like I am held together by chewing gum and baling wire, but remain grateful for people who can problem solve.