If I had to choose one super power, something that I'm really, really good at — better at than the average mom, even — most people who know me (both virtually and IRL) would probably agree: I break things, a lot.
In fact, I even blogged about my being a total KLUTZ back in 2008 for a Thursday Thirteen meme. Remember those? No? Well go and Google it, then. G'head, I'll wait.
[cracks knuckles, stretches and…GAH!!!!…Charlie horse…CHAR…LEE…FRIGGIN'…HORSE!!!]
Today, however, I was in rare form, even for me:
My youngest daughter heard me hollering from the shower (because, she's almost 13 and is well aware of the fact that her mama is a KLUTZ!) and, after finding out that I did NOT in fact slip in the shower (I think she secretly wants to be able to dial 911, just once, on purpose or something), her driver-personality kicked in.
Hope: You can use our shower. It's clean! In the meantime, I'm going to text Dad and ask him to stop at the store to pick up a new shower head on his way from work.
Me: NO!!!!!
Hope: Why?!?
Me: Because he's going to demand an explanation.
Hope: Ummm, actually, he probably won't.
I'd still be frowning, if the kid weren't correct in her assumption: if it's broken, then mom most probably broke it, too.
2. My husband's grandmother's telephone table: in need of a good oiling (aren't we all?), but not broken. The African violet, however, GOOD AND DEAD.
3. My Dyson vacuum cleaner: RECENTLY DECEASED; we bought another one, but an older model; because college tuitions…YO!!!
4. My husband's grandmother's Christmas cactus: my son was sick with mono last year, got up too fast to answer the front door, passed out and knocked it over (I can't find that blog post, but probably Facebooked it) and my husband's grandmother is probably taking bets on what I'll be breaking, next. 2-1 it will be this plant (see #5, below).
However, I managed to save three stalks, but they too are most definitely VERY NEARLY DEAD.
5. The refrigerator: This sucker lasted more than 15 years…which is like forever in appliance years…and I think that is my finger, but can't be sure, sooooo moving on…
6. Creeping Charlie: DEAD. Good thing too, I never really liked it all that much and it was sort of creeping me out, hanging out in the corner like that, anyways.
7. China cabinet filled with pretties from Hungary: Still here, unbroken (knocking on wood until knuckles bleed) I'm still not allowed to touch it, enough said.
8. Matching china cabinet filled with even more pretties: see number 7, above.
9. Sir Fig Newton: DEAD! However, I can't take the blame for this one — the cat insisted on peeing in its pot and it drowned, I mean the fig tree not the cat — stupid cat!
10. The Cookie Jar: It was a present given to us on our wedding day and…although you probably already figured it out…I am NOT allowed to touch it, either.
11. My sneakers: Mysteriously disappeared after the original post published back in 2008, I think the dog may have ate them.
12. Doofus-dawg: He is a canine version of my dorkish self, so we've both grown MUCH more patient with each other, enough said.
13. These are My geraniums: ALIVE!!! All of these pots are from cuttings off of a plant I received after our oldest was born, nearly 21 years ago. There's an interesting story behind these geraniums.
Geraniums were my grandmother's favorite flower and she kept pots on her balcony. My father escaped from Hungary when he was 18 (he told his mother that he was going out to get bread) and they never saw each other, again — my grandmother died the year after we were born.
Her death nearly destroyed my grandfather (Dad, too) and, in turn, he neglected the geraniums, but never had the heart to throw them out.
My brother and I were two years-old when my parents were granted amnesty and were finally allowed to go back. When my grandfather received the telegram, the geraniums started to bloom.
I believe that she is the reason why mine look so beautiful, today.
Because tomorrow is my 50th birthday (but I still look good, DAMMIT!) and Nagy Mama knows, that I know, a little divine intervention goes a looooooooooong way, especially for dorks like me.
Soooooo, in celebration of my making it to half a century (seriously, that's a long a friggin' time in KLUTZ years!), re-read the title of this blog post, but sing it out loud, while I dance like this:
This is where all you youngster/hipster-types are all like…but WE want to wear over-sized men's clothes and gold-plated triangular earrings, TOOOOOOO…that's right, be jealous.
**Aaaaand, this is where I would totally flip my hair and pivot from one hip to the other, if I had hair and my hips weren't permanently locked in the downward dog position, dammit**
Stupid menopausal hair, dumbass locked up hips.
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