BRUISED EGOS AND OTHER INJURIES

  How bad would it be, if I needed to keep a chair, or stool next to my hammock, in order to safely climb out? What if I nailed something to the tree, like one of those bars old people use, to lift themselves off the toilet?

  I'm not that old, really, or disabled. But, I have never been described as coordinated. Oh, I can coordinate an outfit. But, I can't coordinate an outfit while chewing gum. Seriously, I was pushing my cart through Wal-Mart, the other day, and saw a friend.  When I opened my mouth to say hello, I swallowed my gum.

  I blame my mother. They say a baby needs to crawl, to become coordinated. And, I suspect Mom didn't think crawling was very Lady Like, and ended it quickly. After all, being her first girl after six boys, I was expected to wear pink and be a lady, at all times.

  Or, maybe it's because I never played sports. I like to blame this on the school district I grew up in, which didn't offer athletics to girls. I say, I blame the school, like it was something I wanted to do. In reality, I'm thinking, "thank God I never had to endure that particular humiliation!"

 Maybe, I just think about it too much. If someone yelled, "there's an ax murderer in your backyard!", I wouldn't have time to plan my exit strategy. I would just roll out of my hammock, and run.

  Well, it's a beautiful, late Spring day, and I can see my hammock, swaying there in the shade of two tall trees. The grass is mowed, and the birds are singing and splashing in the birdbath. The kids next door are tormenting each other in the pool. And, the bruise on my backside is nearly healed. Maybe I'll try the hammock again.