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Thursday, July 28, 2005The World Can Be Glad I'm A Writer....and not a dancer. On Tuesday, I was playing some Beethoven on the piano whilst waiting for the microwave to finish heating up my -- um -- gourmet frozen corn. Hearing the "beep beep" I'd been listening for, I hopped up from the piano bench and began to half-run to the kitchen. I remember thinking to myself, "My, I'm happy today. I'm actually running on my tiptoes to fetch a bowl of corn." No sooner had the thought rambled through my mind, than WHAM! I ran into the arm of a double-seated bench in my foyer. "OW!" I yelled, clutching my thigh and limping toward the kitchen. I wasn't even being dramatic (this time) -- it really hurt! "What did you do?" asked thirteen-year-old Jonathan in a calm and only slightly inquisitive voice. He knows me too well to become overly alarmed at my antics. "I ran into the bench," I said, still limping, still holding my throbbing thigh in my hand. My son smirked. The next morning, the Second Largest Bruise of my life was apparent to even the most casual observer. I mean, this thing is bigger than the cosmetic sponge that comes with my Clinique powder make-up. In fact, it's roughly the size of the palm of my hand, in all its gray and purple and green and red glory. The Largest Bruise of my life appeared when I was seventeen -- in the same spot on my thigh, come to think of it. It happened when a very stupid boyfriend decided that, on my very first day of downhill skiing, I was ready to go down an intermediate slope at the end of a "train" made out of four brainless teenagers. Needless to say, we wiped out halfway down the hill. My right ski flew off, jabbing me in the thigh and leaving me sprawled in the snow, unable to move for a full minute. I thought my leg was broken. No, it was just a bruise -- at least six inches in diameter, and interesting enough to pull my girlfriends into the ladies' room at school that Monday, in order to show them. So this encounter with a bench arm has brought back some nasty memories. Know what's really funny about this, though? Jonathan, who doesn't flinch when it comes to pulling a hook out of the eye of a sunfish or cutting up live worms to feed to his slew of baby toads, can't stand to look at my bruise. He blanches; he turns his head; he says, "Eww." I can't figure this one out. He'd better buck up if he's going to watch his wife give birth some day. So you see, I'm much less of a menace when I'm sitting at the keyboard, quietly constructing my next chapter. Sure, I might spill something or get a kink in my neck, but I've never been bruised. Well, not physically, anyway. And the emotional bruises are fewer and farther between, as my "writer's skin" grows thicker day by day. One of these days, someone is going to say to me, "Jill, that article really sucked," and I won't bat an eyelash. Till next time! Labels: writing |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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8of my readers are feeling chatty:
Ouch ouch ouch! I think you are better off as a writter too and leave the dancing your your girls! :-)
I'm glad you have decided to put more in to your blog :-)
I don't know what I'd do without your constant encouragement. :)
ROFL! That sounds like something I would so! I'm glad to see more in your blog also! So great!
Keep it up Jill!
As an at-home-mommy-to-4/writer...I get such a lift from reading, laughing, and relating to your posts!
Thanks for posting!
robin
I feel so guilty laughing at you! :-D
I didn't know that Beethoven could be hazardous to your health!
I just had to play with these new Posting Features LOL
LOL Shewoolf!
And did you know that "Chench" found my blog via yours? So I've paid you back -- halfway, anyway. ;)
And Ken -- Beethoven is only hazardous to your health when you're trying to cook dinner at the same time.
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