Silly me

I played almost-real doubles today with Donna, Korby and Deb.

Real in the sense that we kept score and I served (a puffball, but it went in) and moved around more and hit better. "Almost" in the sense that they coached me, tried not to cream me with the ball and sometimes hit me easy put-aways at the net. They seemed to sense the right balance. They didn't baby me so much that I was insulted (they did want to win their points, after all), but when opposite me, they didn't play so hard that I was humiliated. It was all done in good humor. I felt great.

I was pretty tired at the end, but a Starbucks got me home. Joe was making dinner and Katie was cleaning her room. I went up to my bedroom, still carrying my coffee, and called Ben. Joe called up that it was almost time for me to come down and cut and cook the broccoli. (The vegetables were my job.)

We had a combination of local farm-stand broccoli and store-bought. Katie did a taste-test. She said there was no question that the local broccoli was fresher and tastier. We should make a commercial for the "buy local" campaign.

Anyway, I wanted to keep talking to Ben. I also wanted to hold on to my coffee. So since I was in the process of changing from my tennis shoes to my sneakers, I threw the sneakers downstairs.

Joe rightfully panicked, thinking I had fallen. "Mom," he shouted, "how many times have we talked about not throwing your sneakers down the stairs?"

I apologized and said I was fine...and then, breaking my "stuff in one hand only" rule, I prepared to head downstairs with my coffee in one hand and the phone in the other. I slipped on the wood floor and fell. The precious few sips of coffee flew onto the off-white rug, and there I was, on hands and knees, still talking to Ben.

"Hold on a minute, I just fell and I need to get up," I said to Ben. We kept talking while I maneuvered myself to standing: something I am still working on.

It made me think of stories we heard as kids about the incorrigible Robbie Cohen, a family legend who broke his arm because he jumped over a fence while refusing to let go of his ice cream cone.

I went downstairs and joked about it to Katie and Joe. I said it didn't really count as fall number three because it was so harmless. Joe said it did count because I could have toppled down the stairs.

He's right. Reminder to self: Just because you feel better, don't think you can multi-task like you used to. Put the damn coffee down or finish it upstairs. Don't talk on the phone while doing other things. Remember your limits.