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clavus · 10-14-2008, 12:33 PM

When was the last time you fell down? I mean all the way down, dumping your body on the ground. Were you alone? In public? On foot? On a bike?

Let's talk about falling down.

Picture me, wearing a backpack, holding a folding chair, soccer ball, water bottle, and Barbarian Child's hand as we ran across the street to Junior's soccer game. Picture a typical typical 40-year old, white suburban, soccer-dad doosh..

Now picture me just baaaaaaaaaaaarely clipping the curb with my toe, as I attempted to finish my street-crossing.

I tried not to crash and burn. For the next twenty feet or so I attempted to catch up with my center of gravity, doing one of those forward-leaning runs, pinwheeling my arms while my feet slapped the pavement in flat, uncoordinated strides; dropping shit and leaning farther and farther forward until I was past the point of no return.

I didn't just fall down. I blew up.

Have you ever seen a race car go into a long skid, then suddenly start flipping end over end and coming apart? That was me.

I skidded and tumbled, eventually coming to rest on my back. My worldly possessions were scattered behind, beside and beyond me. Barbarian Child was in the debris field, clutching a skinned knee, crying in pain and frustration.

"Why did you do that, Daddy?!"

I tried to scoop up all my stuff, comfort my kid and get my other kid onto the soccer field as quickly as possible. I failed to notice that I lost my phone. It must have hit the EJECT button when it saw me was going down.

I went back to the crash site later; but the phone, like my dignity, was gone.

10-14-2008, 12:33 PM	#1 (permalink)
clavus pow! Location: NorCal	When was the last time you fell down? When was the last time you fell down? I mean all the way down, dumping your body on the ground. Were you alone? In public? On foot? On a bike? Let's talk about falling down. Picture me, wearing a backpack, holding a folding chair, soccer ball, water bottle, and Barbarian Child's hand as we ran across the street to Junior's soccer game. Picture a typical typical 40-year old, white suburban, soccer-dad doosh.. Now picture me just baaaaaaaaaaaarely clipping the curb with my toe, as I attempted to finish my street-crossing. I tried not to crash and burn. For the next twenty feet or so I attempted to catch up with my center of gravity, doing one of those forward-leaning runs, pinwheeling my arms while my feet slapped the pavement in flat, uncoordinated strides; dropping shit and leaning farther and farther forward until I was past the point of no return. I didn't just fall down. I blew up. Have you ever seen a race car go into a long skid, then suddenly start flipping end over end and coming apart? That was me. I skidded and tumbled, eventually coming to rest on my back. My worldly possessions were scattered behind, beside and beyond me. Barbarian Child was in the debris field, clutching a skinned knee, crying in pain and frustration. "Why did you do that, Daddy?!" I tried to scoop up all my stuff, comfort my kid and get my other kid onto the soccer field as quickly as possible. I failed to notice that I lost my phone. It must have hit the EJECT button when it saw me was going down. I went back to the crash site later; but the phone, like my dignity, was gone. __________________ Ass, gas or grass. Nobody rides for free.