It could have been worse

First of all, this was not the post I was intending on writing tonight.

I want you to know that I’ve always wanted to be elegant and gracious. But I am clumsy and foolish. And rather than sitting here with my leg propped up feeling sorry for myself, I’m wondering if the little poster I made here is really true.

Does every cloud have a silver lining?

This evening after dinner, I headed down the driveway to take some macro shots of the only bit of queen anne’s lace that’s growing on the property. They make lovely subjects, you know. I remember slipping into my sandals and thinking I should wear something more appropriate, but nah (I thought), it’s just down the driveway a little ways.

The torn up, beat up driveway.

So there I was with my camera slung over my shoulder, my trusty dog next to me, and I was singing a little song to him that I often sing. I like to use a Russian accent because it sounds better that way and George wags his tail when I do the Russian bit.

Oh, God. I really am crazy.

Anyway, there I was, walking, singing to the dog, not watching where my feet were going when I took a mis-step on a rock, my second fall this summer alone, and although only seconds went by, I feel like it’s still playing slow-motion in my mind. I landed on my camera and heard it crash but was more concerned with the pain that was shooting up my knee because that’s what took the full brunt of the fall. There was no calling my husband; the air was on and he’d never hear me.

And you know George doesn’t do the Lassie bit.

I managed to make it up and then to reach down and pick up the camera, which turned on and didn’t look too beat up. But I could hear glass. I didn’t care because I just wanted to get home, to take care of the awful pain.

To make a story that’s already too long short, my camera works. But my macro lens is toast. Time will tell if I’ve done anything bad to my knee, but for now, it just looks like it’s been rode hard and put back wet.

My husband has asked me when I intend to begin learning from my clumsy mistakes. And it was so . . . just exactly what I wanted to hear!

Not.

He did bring me ice cream, though. And more ice.

Until tomorrow, my friends . . .

That should say Clumsy Girl rather than Country Girl.