If You Call Me, You Can Call Me [Grace]

So I decided to make this a song title post. And the song is awesome anyway, so you should definitely check it out here. I mean, what's not to love about a cool song with a groovy, catchy beat, and a music video starring Chevy Chase!

So I definitely did not shine in gracefulness today. And I'm betting I'm going to be really sore tomorrow. About 4:30, Alligator Bob asked me if I was ready to ride with him to my house to pick up the roto-tiller. He and Buck are going to work on it at the shop in order to make sure it will run so that Bob can later come and till up the back yard for my garden. I'm telling you, I work with awesome people. Anyway, the roto-tiller is in fabulous shape. The only problem is that there is gas that has been sitting in it for about 2 years, and apparently this is a bad thing, because gas goes bad and gets in the carburator (spelling?) and can muck things up. Anyway, so these nice gentlemen are going to clean it out and get it running and then come and till up the yard. Woohoo! So I rode home with Bob to pick up the roto-tiller. Well, as we backed Bob's big silver truck into the driveway, I decided it would probably be wise to let my grandmother and/or Phyllis, who sits with her in the afternoons, know what was going on so they didn't wonder.

Related side-story... Several months before my grandfather passed, when his health had gotten really bad and it was hard for him to go up and down stairs, people from church came and built a ramp out front of the house so he wouldn't have to climb the steps to the front door. The ramp is very nice, and it was so kind and wonderful of them to do this. Well when it first iced over, a slick sheen of ice came on it, and my mom slipped on it one icy morning. And so Yvonne, who we work with, got roofing shingle stuff from her husband, who is in the contracting/construction business or something, and -- well no, actually, she had her husband come and lay that stuff down on the ramp and tack it down so that it wouldn't be as slippery. Again, very kind. (There are really nice people in this world who do kind things out of the goodness of their hearts, and I am blessed to know many such people. I simply can't help noticing that as I tell this story...). Anyway, so we have this ramp out front and the sandpaper-y shingles tacked down on it, like a conveyor belt looking situation. Just so you have a visual :). Some days I traispse across the grass and just hike myself up onto the ramp rather than go all the way around to the beginning and walking up the whole thing to the door.

Back to today...

So, I get out of Bob's truck and run across the lawn to jump onto the ramp to open the door and tell my grandmother and Phyllis what's going on. Three lessons ensue:
1. Don't run toward the ramp. Added speed creates worse results. It's simple physics.
2. Lift your leg higher when you jump onto the higher end of the ramp.
3. I'm 29, not 12, and I'm not as spry as I once was.

So, my foot doesn't clear the ramp, but instead crashes into the side. And the next thing I am really aware of is that I'm down for the count on the ramp, and my left shoe is somewhere in the grass behind me. I'm sure this was hysterical from an outside perspective. Me skipping through the grass one second, and sprawled out on the tarmac the next ;). (I know it's not tarmac, but it sounded good ;)). Anyway, I get up, dust myself off, acknowledge my stinging left palm, right knee, and left thigh right above the knee, retrieve my shoe, and do what I was going to do in the first place: tell my grandma and Phyllis that we are getting the roto-tiller to be worked on. And then I go down to the carport to help Bob - who didnt even see my graceful fiasco, because he was focusing on backing his truck down the driveway - retrieve the roto-tiller.

My palm is badly bruised -- not to mention a little sandpaper rough from being scraped. And my legs aren't far behind. So yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm going to feel it in the morning... I'm already feeling the stiffness in my wrists. Our bodies (not to mention our reflexes and instincts, because shoot, I'd have face-planted if my mind didn't subconsciously cause my hands to go out first to brace and protect) are amazing things. They take so much abuse. Like a 29 year old trying to act like a 12 year old, running all willy nilly, and jumping up onto ramps in nice work clothes. Intelligent, no? Hahahaha... Had to share the story. And you can call me Grace ;).

I'm going to the dentist tomorrow for the first time in a year and a half. I'm so excited. Well, except that I just finished chipping a tooth while flossing. And that's not a good sign at all... Heavy sigh.