Yep, I'm Special

One of the things I love about my husband is his random sense of fun. While most couples get to know each other by going out to dinner and a movie, we spent our dating days garbage bagging at Churchill Junior High or getting lost in various canyons. So when Mike suggested rollerblading as one of his birthday activities I was not in the least bit surprised. Mind you, I hadn’t rollerbladed since sixth or seventh grade, but who am I to deny a birthday request?

So yesterday I strapped on an old pair of fruit boots that Mike found in his parents’ garage. After cruising up and down our street a few times I felt pretty comfortable in them, and we decided to go explore the rest of the neighborhood.

The next part of this story is kind of a blur. A blur that involves me rounding a completely harmless (i.e., barely sloped) street corner and somehow performing a spectacular imitation of a baseball player sliding into home plate:

Only in this instance home plate was a gravelly stretch of pavement. Did I mention I was wearing shorts? I will spare you the photo of what my leg looked like afterward. Not a pretty sight.

The best part was that all this occurred right in front of a school bus full of children whose driver stopped and waited as I (with the help of my chivalrous husband) gathered my mangled body and what was left of my dignity.

But perhaps that was the silver lining of this situation. Maybe after the bus driver stopped laughing his head off (okay maybe he didn’t laugh, not everyone is as horrible of a person as I am), he could have used this little incident to teach the kids a valuable lesson:

“See that, boys and girls? That’s why you should always wear a helmet when you rollerblade. And be nice to people like that girl, who probably rides the shorter bus to school and has to wear a helmet all the time.”