I am not regal, or refined. I have bad grammar and bad punctuation skills. I am not well-read or learned. I laugh uncontrollably at inopportune times. I yell. I swear. I talk loudly. I call landscape supply store owners four-year-olds. I ask inappropriate questions. I spill nachos in my lap. I slip, I fall down. One time I fell down on top of Perry in the grocery store. I laughed about it for days. Another time I walked into a pole watching a tennis tournament. I slid down a muddy hill at school last year. I slipped on the side of the pool last week. That's my specialty, falling down in public places or at spectator sporting events.
Yesterday at Perry's tennis lesson, I bit it. Completely. Bit it. Like, I hit the ground so hard that I knocked the wind out of myself and forgot where I was for a second. We were hurrying to the court (maybe it's the hurrying part that's the problem) and I was carrying two lawn chairs, two sweatshirts, my camera, my wallet, my phone, and my keys in my hands, when I approached a small grassy knoll by the courts and slipped on a seemingly benign patch of dirt. There was a loud THWOP! as my hind quarters hit the ground at a perfect 90 degree angle to the rest of my body. I sat there with my legs out in front of me, motionless, silent, until I heard the faint sounds of a woman asking me if I was alright. First she looked shocked and confused but then she sort of angrily kicked the ground on my behalf and I appreciated that. When I officially came to, all I could say was, I was carrying my camera! And she kept asking, Are you okay?! I said I thought that I was okay. After I checked that my camera was okay, I realized that it had turned itself on during the fall and taken a picture mid-flight to capture the action:
I can't believe I didn't wrench myself. I really was okay. I did need to assure the woman standing next to me that I was still alive because it didn't seem like it at first, I admit. When I looked at Arden's face, she was contorting it into a hundred different positions to keep from laughing. That made me laugh so then I started laughing, and laughing, and then I laughed some more because I was still alive. And then I scheduled my massage appointment. People who are 38 and ungraceful need therapeutic massages quite regularly.
