The Grace that is Moi

Those of you who know me well know that there is an inner klutz that will emerge at every opportunity. Furniture will move out of its way to hit my legs. Chairs will seek out my toes. (My left big toe has been broken three times. Count ’em – three). If I am juggling groceries, the bag will rip and the heaviest can will land on my foot. If I am holding an armful of books, they will combine their literary energies to shift in my arms and leap out all over the floor, bouncing off at least one shin in the process. Walls move toward me, bumping my shoulders with inexplicable hostility. I took ballet lessons for about three weeks when I was a little girl and the dance teacher told my mother not to waste her money. True story. I ended up fencing for 26 years instead. I can’t walk a straight line to save my life, but put a foil in my hand and I’ll kick your ass. lol

I avoided my high school graduation ceremony (and come to think of it, my college one too, and grad school was a no-brainer) so that I wouldn’t have to walk up steps and across a stage which would almost certainly result in my tripping and falling face first into the podium/dean/table holding the diplomas. (Oddly enough, I had no problem being in stage productions). My diplomas have all been posted to me. I fled to Europe after graduating high school early, to Germany, in time for a charming Christmas in a cobblestoned old university town with my at-the-time current boyfriend and made sure I was not back in time for theĀ graduation ceremony. We wandered among vendors of sausages and roasted chestnuts, and it certainly wasn’t his fault that some of the chestnuts fell onto the cobblestones, making them slippery and landing me ass-deep in two inches of snow.

I’ve shared with friends the story of when I headed out into the raccoon pre-release cage a number of years ago with a gallon of formula whose top was not quite screwed on properly. So when I gave it a last vigorous shake to finish mixing the formula, the top flew off and the formula coated me pretty much from head to toe. I became a standing raccoon treat, whereupon I suddenly had twenty-six young raccoons clinging to me trying to suck formula off my clothes.

So early this morning I refilled the hummingbird feeder for the front yard and went out to hang it up in its tree. I didn’t get the top screwed on properly and in the course of fumbling with it, it popped open and splashed sugar water all over my T-shirt, jeans and flip flops. Epic fail. The usual. And then I drove the boys to school, took a corner too closely because the oncoming car swerved partially into my lane and I clipped the side of my car with a telephone pole. Epic fail number 2. It’s just going to be that kind of day, in that kind of life. lol

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