Like a dysfunctional gazelle

I am a big woman. That is not a statement delineating some sort of moral weakness upon my part. It's just a fact. Even if I were not 300 pounds of awesome I would still be a big framed, big-boned kind of gal.

That being said I am also not the most graceful of big women. Due to my distracted brain I am always running into things or stubbing my toe on something or just generally abusing body parts. I will find a bruise or someone will notice one and ask what happened and I will say something like "oh...would you look at that...I have no clue how I did that." Sad...I know but true.

I have to draw the line however at inanimate objects that seem to have it out for me. My friend Beth has this railing that runs along her side patio/path thing. Someone worked very hard setting old cast iron plumbing pipes in concrete to make a decorative railing. It's kind of cool but it has nefarious purposes. On one of my visits I was coming over it with a dog on a leash and really barked my shin on it. Nasty...yet colorful bruise. I still believe it reached up and grabbed me when I stepped over. There is no way I am that clumsy...pbssttt...I can't even type that with straight face.

This visit saw the culmination of it's evil intent. I was out in the yard with Owen...also known as El Diablo the pee monster or poop face. Owen has issues. Granted...most of those were due to living his first 6 or so years in a puppy mill. Needless to say he feels that he cannot pee or poop outside in Colorado. He will finally pee in Oklahoma but that's about it. So...his entire visit to Colorado has him encased in a belly band at all inside times. Being a stubborn human being I will insist upon taking him outside to try to convince him to poop outside. We will walk around and around the yard with him following Fiona, me being eaten my mosquitos, him getting kicked by Fiona who is rolling in the grass, and him still not pooping no matter how long we stay out there.

One morning I gave up and picked him up to take him inside. He thinks the leash is a tool of Satan so I have to sort of reel him in like a poodle trout. I picked him up and started to go over the railing...whereupon it once again reached up and grabbed me. I am still not sure what happened. I know I hit my fat inner thigh but the worst damage was to the top of my right foot and three toes. How the other two escaped I have no clue.

I remember thinking oh shit...it got me again...going down...and dammit don't drop Owen!!! Somehow...in a truly graceful, dysfunctional, gazelle sort of way I crashed over the railing and hit the cement. Somehow in mid-air I shifted myself so as not to drop or hurt Owen. Owen escaped unscathed...me not so much. I sat there for a second taking inventory. Poor Beth comes rushing out...did you fall?? I refrained from making a sarcastic reply for which I think I should get some bonus points. She took poor Owen from me and we sat there for a second assessing damage. That is what you have to do when you get old kids. I determined that nothing appeared broken and then began the process of trying to figure out how I am going to get up off my ass.

This would...at first...seem to be an easy thing for you youngsters out there but trust me when I say it is not so for those of us over 50. Especially those of us who were foolish enough to abuse our knees when we were young and more agile. Damn you softball...anyway I digress. I decided there was nothing for it but to roll onto my knees and use the railing for leverage. I hated using the instrument of torture but there was no help for it. It assisted me up in a moment of painful irony. Damn you decorative railing...you win again. I just hope my aerial ballet was spectacular if anyone witnessed it. If you did...please contact me here and let me know how awesome it was...or at least lie to me so I will feel all warm and fuzzy while I wait for the skin to grow back.