This afternoon Rosebud was cringing about a particular clumsy, embarrassing, and yet funny thing that had happened. "I can't believe anyone else ever had to endure all that humiliation," she moaned. Which led to me assuring her, that yes, there are some people who have endured that much and a whole lot more and survived to now be able to laugh about it.
As a teenager I used to be plagued with a certain talent of executing scenes of spectacular clumsiness.
Like the time when I was seventeen. Mom and I had been canning peaches. I had just finished getting a new batch into the canner when a van load of visitors drove in.
"Let them in while I wash my hands," Mom instructed me.
On my way to the door I scooped up my baby brother. I opened the door to invite them in and as I stepped back I rolled my ankle and sank into a pretzeled heap onto the floor right in front of their politely amused stares.
I wanted to disappear. I don't remember much of the rest of that day, but that part has been seared into my memory along with many other equally as embarrassing events.
Things such as the first time I tried making a Thanksgiving meal for LV. Or the time I choked on a piece of lint during a wedding sermon about submissive wives. The first time LV and I had a long buggy ride together, alone, or several years later when I got to meet some of his extended family for the first time.
Those and many more instances of awkward, cringe worthy clumsiness peppered my teenaged years.
I'm not sure if hearing about them made Rosebud feel any better, but we both had a good laugh as I reminisced.