Um...Ok then...

So, last nite, I walked into a door. Now, I know that that is the steriotypical excuse for women who are being abused, but for anyone who knows me...ya, I actualy did walk into a door. I have a cut over one of my eyes from my glasses. I need a better excuse than the door. I remember the time I walked into a brick wall, and I really don't want to repeat that.
I am a klutz. I go hiking and fall down mountains. I walk into walls and doors. I trip over shadows. And the even sadder thing is, I am a very accomplished martial artist and played basketball, softball, vollyball, and track until I blew out my knees (was on the varcity teams my freshman year). But take me out of a sports areana, and watch me trip.

You might wonder why, if I am such a klutz, did I take up a hobby (lol, "hobby". It toaly stopped being just a "hobby" years ago, but I digress) that includes long pointy metal things. Most people asked that to when Fergie started teaching me to knit (this was at a time when I was attending college in MO. I fell up stairs. I fell down stairs. My school administration threatened dire consequences for anyone who took me sleding. The dishmachine tried to eat me on several occasions), but she did anyway. And I will always be grateful for that.

Though, in my knitting carreer, I have knit multiple holes in my fingers, stabbed myself with needles, and the less said about the set of DPN's that resulted in a tetnus shot, the better.

And the moral of the story is...if you want a good laugh, follow me around for a day. If you feel sorry for me, come up with a better story that makes me look like a little less of a dork for the next time I walk into a door. oh yes, there will be a next time