I fell off my horse. Well, he's not my horse, he's my niece's horse, but still--I fell off. I haven't fallen off a horse since I was 16! (Okay, I fell off my horse in June, but that doesn't count because he took off before I was ready AND I was bareback. YOU try that.)
Kev & I were talking, and he couldn't seem to get the point I was trying to make, and in typical fashion, I simply must make you all understand. I am deep into this conversation while we are trotting down this long, narrow incline. My feet are out of the stirrups because I don't have boots anymore since my bunion calls for a wider size which I'm too poor & lazy to buy. I am in the now, carpe-momenting this opportunity to nail my point home in one... two... three... TOO LATE! I tipped over in s-l-o-w motion and by the time I realized I was falling, it was over. Like it wasn't stupid enough that I was paying more attention to being heard and understood than I was my own physical place in the universe, what really tipped me off was the look on Kev's face. I thought, "What is he all concerned about........" ---THUNK! ka-THUNK!
That was me bouncing. He said he saw me bounce. I have two huge beautiful bruises on my back AND backside--which went as south as my brain.
Do I blame it on oldness or pride or a frap of both...? Whichever, I just hope I can turn my head in the morning.