The most fantastic bruise of '09..

I will start at the beginning, because that is usually the best place to start..
It was December 30th of last year (2009 in case you have already forgotten..) I was up stairs doing something that was probably really important (or maybe not, I really cannot remember..).  Something urged me up, and down the stairs, something that eludes me at the moment.  I always run down the stairs. 
Always.
It is how I rationalize eating chocolate covered caramel macadamia nut clusters two at a time.
So I run.
This day, I happened to be barefoot.  I usually am, that is how I was born, and that is how I prefer to live.  In the winter time, when it is cold, you may occasionally find me with slippers on my feet.  Sometimes even socks.  But this day, I was barefoot..
I made my way down the stairs, safely.
Then I hit the hardwood floor.
Now when I am sporting those occasional socks or slippers, I will usually continue with the gained momentum from running down the stairs, into a slide, just for kicks and giggles, to see how far I can slide. 
It is my kind of fun.
This day, sockless and slipperless, I consciously did not purposefully slide.  I was pretty successful at first, until I began to slide.
I was thankful in that moment, that my life is not a reality show, as I did not wish to have an audience at this time, but as I continued in that slide, on my left side, very quickly going down, and going down very hard on my left butt cheek, I realized that I did, indeed, have an audience of one.
Ashley.
She was behind me on the stairs.
She witnessed the whole event.
As my body made that loud, loud noise on the hardwood floor, my hand came down also very hard, in a slap on the floor.  It was not a slap of anger, rather a slap of defeat.
The floor got me.
It was funny to me.
As I let out the first round of roaring laughter, Ashley slowly, and very carefully began her retreat back up the stairs, backwards.  She stayed low to the ground, so as not to be seen.  She kept her eyes on me, watching for tears, listening for more loud, confusing noises to come out of me.
When she realized it was laughter, she came down to laugh with me.
It was the best medicine.

A day later, new year's eve, we found our little family settling down for the night at the local Best Western.
Our room was all set up.  King bed complete with a twin sized roll-away bed that we placed at the foot of the king bed so the girls could better see the TV for the great countdown.
Ashley was wiped out (from all the hilarity from the previous day?) and Lynn was wide awake.  But even more wide awake was Peyton, who kept getting down, off the larger bed, going to the smaller, and bugging Ashley. 
Time after time, I got up to get her out of Ashley's face, and just when I thought I couldn't do it anymore, that roll-away's frame tagged the back of my right calf.
It hurt.
I think the sharp intake of breath was warning enough for little miss P.  She didn't venture that way again..

So why am I telling you all of this?
Because I am sporting a rather nice bruise.
(Notice the lack of an "S" on that last word in that last sentence.)
I am more than a little miffed at the placement of this bruise.
It is not on my upper left leg, closer to my back..  but above my knees.
It is on the side of my right calf.
It is dark.
A little souvenir from my night at the hotel.
A friend asked if everything was okay at home when she noticed it.
Roll-away beds will become the new "fall down the stairs" I tell you...
I am miffed because that slide was awesome, and a lot louder than that bump into the bed.  I should have more to show for it than that one vein that is slightly more blue in color now.
Makes me wonder if all this nearing 30 business is making me more like my mom.
We would tap her on her shoulder and tease her that we would see a bruise appear no later than the next day, if not right before our eyes.
That wouldn't be all bad...
If I were becoming more like my mom, then maybe, just maybe, I would lose the ability to yell at my children.  Maybe my patience will increase amazingly overnight...
Maybe...
I am too much like my dad.
I wonder if he gets bruises over the lame stuff too.....

Too much thinking..

I have been doing too much thinking lately..
Planning ahead.
Goals for the new year..
A new "word" for the new year.
How to organize this and that.
The big 3-0.
Up-coming birthday for little miss P.
Valentine's day stuff..
ALL the projects I get to do now!
I realized that from the beginning of August until Christmas Eve, it has been a "go, go, GO!" mentality around here.
Getting one house all fixed up, ready for appraisalS, walk-thoroughs, and a sale.
Back to school fun.
PTA.
Packing up and moving.
Moving in and getting all set up.
Parites.
The big project.
Birthdays.
Holidays...
Now, I can breathe, and think about a few things that I have wanted to do.
Then I will move on to more PTA stuff.  (That yearbook will be fun!)
But while doing all of this thinking, my body has been working on a project of it's own.  I woke up this morning to find a gray hair.

 I called Merrill to tell him all about it.
He wasn't impressed.
When I asked why, he replied,"You have ONE gray hair..  I have MILLIONS."
Maybe not millions, try hundreds.  It's true.
(Love you Mer!)
I tried to tell him that I am now catching up to him..  well, trying to at least.
That 3-0 is coming up, I guess I just needed a visual reminder.