Yeah, yeah – today I fell down. Laugh, cry, I’m better than Cats… I’d like to point out that my Father has fallen down (really taken a tumble – ass over teakettle, so so speak) TWICE in the last month or so. Once hiking. Once down the stairs in Kansas in the middle of the night. Upon both occasions he ended up with bruises, scrapes and cuts (the second time, a fat lip, too) ON HIS FACE. I tend to get the bruises, scrapes and such all over the rest of my body; at least I don’t end up looking like I’ve been roughed up by mob thugs over gambling debts – KNOCK ON WOOD – not about the beat up by hooligans part, but the beat-up face part (let’s be specific – I do not have GAMBLING debts – they are regular, serious idiot consumer debts).
Where was I? Oh yes – it would seem I was falling down in the driveway. I was walking out to the car (perhaps this is all because it wasn’t MY car?), purse open (healthy back bag, I should say), flat shoes, completely sober and medicated to a perfectly acceptable extent. Then, in an instant, I start to crash to the ground. We have two large English Walnut trees in front of the house, so the ground is littered with big yellowish leaves and walnuts galore. I blame the nuts; IT WAS THE NUTS. Also, there’s a particular place in the driveway where it is uneven at the seam – very dangerous.
All of that isn’t really the point. Surprisingly, there IS purpose here (such as it is). The interesting thing about this stumbly tumble is the stunt woman factor. One might well ask, “What in the hell is the ‘Stunt Woman’ Factor?” Here goes: Sometimes, when I am in the process of toppling over, I feel like I’m experiencing it in slow motion. Rather, it’s not really SLOW motion – is there MEDIUM motion? It’s slower than “normal motion,” and certainly not “fast motion.” Yet “medium motion” seems like it would be equivalent to “normal motion,” and that’s not what I experience. I shan’t quibble over terms any longer. I shall call it “middling motion.” ANYHOO, I feel like I’m experiencing the fall in middling motion. For an unknown reason I will feel the impulse to “go with it,” as though it were a staged accident (theoretically you don’t get hurt if you “roll with it,” so to speak). Once I literally did “roll with it.” I could have just landed on the ground, but I rolled over two or three times. No one was watching – thankfully, I suppose – so I don’t know if it looked as usually idiotic as one of my normal tumbles, or if it looked just a LITTLE cool. Today, though, I fell first on my hands, throwing the contents of my purse helter-skelter, and causing many little scrapes and bruises on my palms, and I twisted my left ankle (ALWAYS the LEFT one – what is it with that foot? I think it has it out for me…), I somehow flipped and rolled onto my back (unfortunately not on my particularly well-padded ASS – what else is it good for, damn it!), and somehow landed head down in the leaves. I paused, ever so briefly, in reflection, and then pulled myself together. So now I have wee bruises on my back, too. And there were leaves EVERYWHERE – in my purse, in my hair, all over my clothes. Why, in the moment, did this seem like a the thing to do? I could have just landed on my hands and knees, which took a beating as it is. I just want to know: DID IT LOOK COOL? Somewhere, embedded DEEP in my psyche, is there a stunt woman who pictures each fall from outside my body – as though analyzing the camera angles (no offense, Karate Man)? Maybe I am a stunt woman and not a selective klutz (I won’t go into it, but I DO have moments of amazing grace – not to be confused with the song – just times when I have remarkable poise – that’s why I say “selective klutz”)? Hmmm. I’ve always thought that WAY down deep, in my nougaty center, I am just a huge geek. Perhaps – just perhaps – I’m SECRETELY cool. So secretly, surreptitiously, that even I do not know it. Double hmmm.
No, I am a huge geek.