Get Out Of The Road

The Arkansas River Flotilla will be passing behind my house on Tuesday. As I was preparing the back porch for a possible breakfast there, I tripped over a rug, fell headlong into a lawn chair, and scraped across the cement floor into the 1950's chrome and formica dinette set I have by the window. Because I was afraid hubby would come around the corner and see me sprawled in a heap, I was able to get up more quickly than usual.


Although it may seem odd to some, I am most embarrassed when hubby is aware of my awkwardness. Along that same line, but somewhat off the subject, I have never told hubby how much I weigh. He has asked on occasion telling me, "It is just a number." Since it is just a number, I may tell him I weigh 120 pounds. Hubby was with me during my pre-op for surgery one time when the nurse asked my weight. She launched into this long spiel about why it was important for administration of the anesthesia but finally gave up and let me write the number on a piece of paper. She probably blabbed as soon as I was asleep.


An anecdote related over the years by our family has been that a woman fell in front of my dad, hopped right back up, and said, "I didn't fall." I can just see Daddy's little lop-sided grin as he replied, "I didn't say you did."


As I have been inherently clumsy all my life, it is not uncommon to find myself on the floor after I have stumbled and fallen. I hate it though when I fall in front of a crowd as I did one hot Missouri day going into Lambert's Cafe. It would have to happen on a huge motorcycle rally weekend where the line into "The Home of the Throwed Rolls" snaked three deep down the sidewalk and all around the back of the building. Luckily hubby was parking the bike and never knew. Although several patrons attempted to come to my aide, I was up and re-standing within seconds. When I do get down in the floor to clean or pull something out of a deep cabinet, it takes a winch to pull me up. But I can bounce right back up if I fall in front of people.

Speaking of bouncing. A friend was driving her dad's pickup when she turned the corner, the passenger door opened, and I slid right out of the truck in front of the old IGA store on the corner of Main and Montgomery. This was probably 1966 and as it was before the "looking for a husband diet" I just bounced as I hit the pavement. Mrs. Jones came running out of the store to frantically admonish me to lie still while she got help. I wasn't waiting for anyone because I just wanted to get out of the road.