Welcome 2020!

Happy New Year y’all!

In my last post, I wrote and told y’all my new year’s resolution was to complete my manuscript, and I’m so excited to announce that I have officially began working on it full force.  It’s in full swing and it has been since December 30th!  Being that I’m writing my memoir, in short story form, I have several short stories written but need a lot of revising.  I’ve been putting a lot of thought into how I’m going to work them all out.  This in turn made me realize, I have to feel out which short stories to work on and when it’s the best time to work on each of them.  In other words, I can’t just work on one, finish it, and then continue on to the next short story in line.  Rather, I need to feel each story out.  For instance, to give you an example, I felt the need to work revisions in a short story about forgiving myself.  I can’t move on and work on a different short story about a memory until I have first forgiven myself for many of the choices I’ve made in my life which gave me the memories I’m writing about.

I’ve also decided to share excerpts from my written work.  How great does that sound?  I would love for y’all to purchase my first book once it’s published, but why would y’all buy my book if y’all have no clue what’s in it, right?  Personally, I don’t purchase a book without first having a little knowledge of the writer or it’s contents.

In “A Letter to Myself”, I wrote it because I have to first, forgive myself, but I also wrote it because I needed help forgiving myself.  I needed to write it so I could find the positive outcomes during some rough patches in my life.  Every obstacle I have faced taught me something.  In learning from it, I share the lesson in writing to help others possibly going through the same thing, or facing a similar obstacle of their own.  That’s who I am.  That’s what I do.

So, without further ado, here’s an excerpt from “A Letter to Myself”—–

“Keep in mind, life might not have happened as you planned, but it still happened, and you still obtained everything you were after.  The only difference was the journey.”

“Your life didn’t happen the way Granny planned either, but she wanted you to have the life she wanted and cheated herself out of- finishing high school, going to college, falling in love, marriage, and raising a family.  She didn’t want that for you, but for herself.  She was trying to live her life vicariously through you.  She had her own lessons to learn, through you, the unknowing teaching implement, but she was an unteachable student.”


I hope y’all enjoyed reading that small portion of my most recently, completely revised piece.  I was certainly a task to write, but you know what, I feel like I finally freed myself from a burden I should have never carried in the first place.  Like I can finally accept that while a lot of people in my past expected certain things from me, it matters more what I expect from myself.

In closing, I want you to know that I’ll be sharing many more excerpts from my book as I work on it and further it’s contents.  I have a lot to write about and I look forward to sharing more and more of it with all of you.  My goal is to finish my manuscript by the end of April, my birthday, and submit it to Page Publishing for, fingers crossed, publication!  Until then, I’m working on it one day at a time, writing on story at a time.  At the present moment, I’m revising “Not Quite Nestle” about a cookie baking experience gone very wrong.

Thanks for reading!


Merry Christmas Eve Eve

Good morning y’all!

I know, I know.  I’ve neglected to write anything in quite some time.  I’m almost ashamed I haven’t written, but I’ve been going through a lot of things, dealing with a lot of things, and as a result, overcoming a lot of things.  Going into drastic details would take up entirely too much time and probably bore everyone who reads this to death, or at the least, put everyone to sleep.  I don’t want to do that.  I’ll just say, every step forward is an accomplishment and it’s healing.

Normally, this enchanting time of the year is frustrating, what with commercial Christmas things lining retail and grocery store shelves before Halloween stuff goes out, memories of loved ones passing surfacing my mind, budget worry, as well as work related efforts stressing my mental health to the max.  This year, all that changed because I’m in a place of my own, just my husband, daughter, and myself.  My reputation as a VIPKid teacher has finally been established causing my confidence level to skyrocket through the roof and I’m so incredibly proud of myself for that!  In addition, my spending budget is leveling out comfortably.  What’s been bothering me is my anxiety.

My mental health is fabricating things my conscious mind knows I should not be worrying about.  A couple weeks ago, I walked, well, paced my way through an anxiety attack, yet I have no idea why I was having an anxiety attack.  All I can guesstimate is things in my life are turning around and I’m wondering, ‘what’s the catch?’  You know?  I wasn’t thinking about the bad things, because I’ve been too busy moving forward, preparing for all the stuff I want to do in the new year.  I wasn’t thinking about my husband parents who passed during this time in 2007.  I was merely sitting on our couch, doing nothing.  I can only conclude it’s because I wasn’t doing anything.  I wasn’t occupying my thoughts, so because I wasn’t occupying my thoughts, I was noticing every internal feeling in my body, and because I haven’t been to see a doctor in so long, thanks to lack of health insurance, I mentally panicked.

Well, I fixed that.  I walked my anxiety off and moved forward.  One of the many things I’ve been blessed with this year, since moving into my own place, is I finally have health insurance again.  So, having this, I made a call and scheduled myself an appointment for after the first of the year.  I’m not worried there’s something wrong with me, I’m worried because I haven’t seen a doctor in a few years.  Like five years, to be exact.

Well, enough of that news.  Moving on…

The new year is quickly approaching, but unlike 2019, 2018, 2017, and 2016, I’m preparing and I’m ready.  This year, I’ve made a new year’s resolution I can actually keep.  In detail, I have my 2020 calendar year written and ready to fill with class bookings and writing schedules.  I have a plan, in writing, to work on my manuscript and have it completed within a few months, and this includes rewriting some of the material which I noticed in rereading it, still needs work.  I realized, last year, I wrote with a lot of hate.  This year, I’m transforming all the hate into experience and lessons.  After all, it’s why I chose a career in writing.  I have so much life experience to share, but I need to leave the hate out because it doesn’t do any good to hate.  Hate only makes a person mean.

I’m also going to post on my blog much more.  At least once a month.  I’ve gained so many followers since starting my blog and with saying this, I want to thank each and every one for choosing to follow my blog.  I am so thankful for every one of you because your follows are proof that I can express myself in writing and you enjoy reading it.  I only wish my parents understood my reason for what I write, but I also accept the fact they will probably never understand my purpose.

Well, having said all this, I’m closing out for now, until next year.  Can you believe it?  Next Monday is the last day of 2019!  Where did the year go?  It went like every year before it has- good and bad, with obstacles and accomplishments, with struggles and lessons, and I met and made some new friends thanks to all of it.  I am truly blessed!

From me and my family to you and yours, I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, and a Feliz Navidad.  If I left one out, please, leave me a comment so I can wish you yours as well because I don’t want to leave anyone out.  Educate me on how you celebrate your holiday traditions.

In closing, thank you for reading!  Love to everyone this holiday season!

Thinking, Writing, and Reflecting About Chicken Soup for the Soul

Hey y’all!

I am a writer and because I am a writer, I think a lot.  A Lot.  I think about my past and I think about my future and all the things I want to do.  Most of it has to wait until after my daughter graduates from high school which will be in another three years, but at the same time, I can do many of the things I want to do now, in the present time, because I’ve been blessed with the ability to work from home, as an English teacher.

One of the things I want to do is publish.  I want this about as much as I’ve wanted everything else I’ve been blessed with in my life because I love writing so much.  I love sketching to, but writing allows me to bare a piece of my soul that I can’t do in creating artwork.  Yes, I know writing is just another form of artwork, but writing is also different from sketching.  In writing, I can talk about the many obstacles I’ve overcome and what I learned from those obstacles.  When I sketch, I create pictures that make me happy.  Writing also makes me happy, but differently than sketching does.

Someday, I want to see my written short stories in Chicken Soup for the Soul because Chicken Soup for the Soul is the most widely known nonfiction short story compilations book around the world.  I began reading them when I was just 14 years old.  I recommend then to anyone I know and everyone I meet.  I recommended Chicken Soup for the Girls Soul to my daughter’s best friend in gymnastics.  She’s a couple years younger than my daughter, but she loves to read, according to her grandparents.  Not only did I lend them my copy, but after reading the book and returning it to me, her grandmother went out and bought herself a copy of a more recent title, Chicken Soup for the Grandparents Soul.  I don’t know how often this happens to other people, but it was a first for me.

I’ve been writing and submitting short stories to them for the last two years and one thing I can say for sure is my ability to write is improving.  When I first started trying, yes, I wrote crap.  Boring and unacceptable for publication; and obviously not what they were looking for.  Now, two years later, reading my own work chokes me up, but maybe I’m just partial to my own work.  Rather than being my own worst critic, I’m over complimentary to myself.  I used to have my husband simply proofread my material, then I click the submit button and off it went to their inbox.  Now, I’ve improved the writing process, asking him to critique my material, not once, but twice.  The first critique is always for direction.  The second critique is to fix anything which doesn’t sound right, or doesn’t fit.  If and when he gives me an all-clear, I then ask him to proofread it for me to clear my grammatical mistakes.

I know publishing is a hit and miss no matter who you’re trying to publish with.  When it comes to Chicken Soup for the Soul, my single short story entry is only 1 in about 5000.  As of current, the only time I’ve ever received a personal message from Amy Newmark herself, it was to ask for my mailing address to mail me a couple signed books, per winning a book drawing.  It was an incredible experience, but nothing like I imagine it’s going to be when the day comes I receive an email, that my short story has been chosen for publication in a future title.

So far, I’ve submitted a short story to each of these future titles; ‘Laughter is the Best Medicine’, ‘Listen to Your Dreams’, ‘Stories About Christmas’, ‘Stories About Self-Care and Me Time’, and ‘You Go, Girl’.  The short story I wrote for ‘You Go, Girl’ is, in my opinion, my personal best.

In closing, I write to clear my head of the most concentrated thought swirling inside.  Chicken Soup for the Soul is my most favorite book series.  I can’t deny that and I won’t deny it.  I know my day will come, and when it does, I’ll laugh, I’ll cry, and I’ll jump up and down like a crazy high school girl finding out that the boy she likes, likes her back.  I’ll probably run to my neighbors and share with them this most exciting news of my life, but I am not going to deny myself the emotion of finally accomplishing what I’ve been working so hard to do since I began my writing journey.  I’ll tell you what else I’m not going to do, when sharing my news with my parents, who don’t completely understand the lengthy time and amount of patience writing a single story can take, regardless of story length, nor the hit and miss of publicating, I am not going to allow their happy-so-so attitude to clash with my over-the-moon-top-of-the-world-basking-in-personal-accomplished-glory attitude.  After all, this isn’t about them, this is about me.  They will be happy for me, supportive, and accepting, and that’s all I really can ask for.

Thank you for reading y’all!



I’ve met my fair share of needy people.  Now, I’m not talking about people that need things like food to eat or a roof over their head, or clothes, I’m talking about needy, clingy, I wave to a stranger in a friendly manner and they misread my friendly wave needy.  I’m doing nothing more than waving in acknowledgement, but they acknowledge it as come over anytime and tell me all about your life.  Having encountered so many who are like this, I submitted myself to hermitage.  Keeping to myself to the point I wouldn’t even go outside.  I withdrew myself from the likes of society.

This has changed.

My husband and I moved into our own place, but we do have neighbors closer in distance to us than the last place we lived.  I didn’t really think about how close our neighbors are as we were moving in, but I swore to myself I wouldn’t walk down that path of friendliness again.  I enjoy having friends, but I also enjoy spending time alone because that’s when I can dive into my creative thoughts uninterrupted.  I lose myself in sketching or writing, or reading a really good book, whichever direction my thoughts take me at that particular moment.  These are my favorite pastimes, but not everyone accepts this, and most of the time it’s because they don’t understand it.  I don’t expect others to understand my creative fulfillment, but I do expect them to accept that art is who I am.  It’s what makes me who I am.  I accept others for who they are and what they do, but I also expect the same in return.  In other words, if you don’t understand it, don’t criticize me for it, allow me to either educate you or leave me alone.

On an evening, within a week after my family and I moved into our new place, we experienced a ‘tiny’ ant problem around our kitchen sink.  I noticed our landlord was across the road, on our neighbor’s porch visiting and in conversation, so I sent my husband over to inquire on some bug spray of some sort.  They didn’t have any bug spray, but they did offer us another solution which helped put an end to our ‘tiny’ ant problem, and because my husband went over to inquire, he also met our neighbors.  My husband is an old ‘hippie’ and he’ll be the first one to tell you this about himself, so he’s able to feel others out.  Not in the touchy-feely sort of way, but he can read them like characters in a book.  After cleaning up our ant problem, we finished cleaning the kitchen from dinner, and then my husband convinced me to go with him to return the borrowed ant killing solution.  As hesitant as I am on a regular basis, I allowed myself this neighborly meet and greet.  I’m glad I did this because in meeting our neighbors, rather than avoiding them like I normally do, I stepped outside my comfort zone, allowing myself a change in socialization.  Before this, I practically closed myself off from the rest of the world because of a handful of people I chose to allow to take advantage of me.

In meeting our neighbors, I did some soul searching, seeking advice from my inner self, and following my intuition.  I have to follow my heart.  By following my heart, I have to accept that I’ve made mistakes in my past, allowing people to practically walk all over me in a figurative manner.  By following my heart, I’m following my husband, trusting that he, who has years of experience before me, can read a person enough to sense whether they’re genuine or pretending to be something or someone they aren’t.  There are too many fake people in this world, but I can’t continue judging others according to those I’ve already met and distrust.

This isn’t the only thing changing in my life either.  I’m changing as an individual person as well.  No longer hesitating to ask about things I’m curious about.  No longer fearing I might offend someone.  No longer worrying about being misjudged or judged for my sometimes eclectic personality.  I admit, sometimes I ask questions that really shock a person, but I don’t expect my questions to be answered.  I’ll be the first one to tell you, if it’s too personal, tell me, don’t feed me a line of lies because my question crossed the line.  Tell me I’ve crossed a line.  As a mature woman, I will understand.  In return, ask me anything, if it’s none of your business, I’ll tell you.

It’s been so long since I’ve surrounded myself with real people, it’s quite refreshing.  I feel renewed hope and real connections.  My husband and I were visiting with our neighbors the other night when the idea to write this blog surfaced my thoughts.  Instantly, I was asking for a piece of paper and a pen or pencil to write.  They offered up both without question and even as I proceeded to spend a good 15 to 20 minutes writing out my thoughts, neither of them questioned me or criticized me for taking the moment to write what I had on my mind.


Good and bad, changes come in all shapes, sizes, and levels of importance.  Throughout the last two months, the changes have come as expected and completely unexpected.  Moving.  Exploring an unknown destination at the most inconvenient time thanks to an error in GPS.  Adjusting, planning, and anything else I’ve encountered but am unable to list, the changes have proven to be for the best.  I didn’t understand them at the time, but because they occurred, I had to change, to become a better person.  Each experience is a lesson.  I had to learn that I’m going to be okay, that things are going to be okay, that we are going to be okay.  Most importantly, there are still good people out there, I just have to listen more closely, and follow my heart.

Moving Out, Moving Forward, Moving Up, and Moving On

Greetings and good morning y’all!  It has certainly been some time since my last post, but like all things in life, there has been a lot of things going on.

For instance, moving is never easy an easy task.  Packing, sorting, cleaning, loading, unloading, unpacking, and setting up.  It’s stressful, time consuming, hard work, expensive, and above all, physically draining.  After living under my parent’s roof for four years, seeing to and helping them around the house because they’re only getting older, they decided they’re ready to live on their own and don’t need my help as much.  I should have expected this, but I was busy, caught up in my own endeavors.  So, when they told me they were moving, that they found a place, nearly everything I was working on, screeched to an unexpected halt.  If it wasn’t for my amazing husband, I might have experienced emotional turmoil in epic proportions because there wasn’t any foresight, only a tight aftermath.

I’m not a religious person, but praying for guidance, strength, and some peace of mind is not beneath me.  I did this everyday until the day we moved into the trailer I now call my home.  A rustic two bedroom, single bathroom mobile home, settled in a quietly quaint mobile home park, managed by a couple, like ourselves.  I personally have several things in common with our landlady, not including her name reflecting that of my late great-grandmother.  As I mentioned, moving is expensive, and we used every penny to make it happen in record time.  We have a couple small debts to pay off, but nothing to lose precious sleep over.  Before finding this place, if it wasn’t for being genuinely exhausted every night, I would have lost sleep, caught between a rock and a hard place just trying to find a place to live.  However, when every thing else fell through, this place became the light at the end of the long, dark, questionable tunnel.  My prayers were answered.

It’s not quite been a week yet since we moved, but I was forced to take a week off from home-school and teaching.  I’ve missed my Chinese students, but my daughter rather enjoyed the full week away.  Unfortunately, now we’re facing Interim Assessments head on our first week back.  We’ll be spending this week and the weekend catching up on missed assignments and such, but she’s a trooper and with me for a mother/learning coach, there’s nothing she can’t successfully accomplish.  This morning, I taught my first class in our new place and it was awesome!  It truly feels great to be back in my online classroom.  I’ve missed my students with their smiling faces and energetic personalities.

We’re still settling in; down to a couple boxes left to unpack of bookshelf dust collectors, a pile of framed photos to hang, five full bookcases of books to reorganize, and a washer to replace a sensor in, but we’re happy.  My parents are happier as well, living as just the two of them- something they have been striving close to 30 years for.  They had to learn to live life separately before they could live life together.  Now they’re embracing their golden years, living their happily ever after.

As for us, hubby and I are also embracing our separate solitude.  Career oriented in our field of English literature and writing.  Creating our heart’s desire, stories and art with added educational attributes.  It’s our world.

‘When The Thunder Rolls, and It Spooks The Cat…’

Hey y’all!

A week ago, as of tomorrow, was a scary day for my household.  It was storming, thunder was booming, and my dad’s cat Tana (short for Montana) became spooked enough from the thunder she ran for cover.  Right under my dad’s recliner chair.

Mom and dad were in the living room, enjoying some afternoon television programming, my husband and I were upstairs, relaxing to our own television when my mother screams my name for help.  Normally, when mom needs my help with something, she’s nonchalant about it.  This scream was blood-curdling, like Bryce Dallas Howard and Chris Pratt in Jurassic World.  The scene where she screams at him and the boys, “RUN!!!”  Something was terribly wrong.

My husband and I flew down the steps to find dad on the floor, half under his recliner chair, trying to release Tana from the mechanical grasp of his recliner.  There are no words to describe the horror of this incident, however, we did manage to pull her free seconds later; once dad was able to figure out how she was stuck.  Obviously, she was hurt, but alive and breathing, as well as beyond spooked.

Mom and my husband immediately began making phone calls to find a veterinarian open on a Sunday while dad and I evaluated what we could of the damages without moving Tana.  Dad was so distraught, he couldn’t think.  Finally, minutes later, mom was referred to a 24-hour animal hospital and my husband was putting together a cardboard box/transportable bed to put Tana in for the ride to the animal hospital.  Minutes after that, mom and dad were pealing out of our driveway with an injured Tana, meowing sorely.

Dad said she didn’t meow as much as she normally does during car rides, but the fact that she was meowing is a good sign.  Cat’s can’t meow with a broken neck.

At the animal hospital, they took x-rays and gave her a full tip to top examination, and except for a possible concussion, she was cleared.  No internal bleeding, nothing broken, but she did have pain in one of her legs.  The doctor put her on an anti-inflammatory medication for three days and let her come home.

I’m thrilled to share that she’s acting like herself again and dad has recovered as well.  I feel a little nervous when thunderstorms roll through the area, because I don’t want Tana to get spooked again, but she’s a cat and accidents happen.  I think we’re all a little more alert because of it.  Tana included.


As always, thanks for reading and thank you for your support.

Rest In Peace C.B

Hey y’all!

Yesterday brought us news that saddened our hearts; especially the innocent heart of my daughter’s.

I don’t know how many of you have heard of or know of Disney’s ‘Descendant’s’, but it has become a huge, very popular franchise over the last few years.  They began with their first movie “Descendants” which escalated into a second movie “Descendants 2”, and as predicted by probably every child and teenager in the world, a third movie, “Descendants 3” which airs on the Disney Channel in less than a month.  My daughter has been a faithful follower since day one.

We all remember the Disney princes, princesses, and villains of our youth; Princess Belle, Aurora, Mulan, the Evil Queen, Maleficent, Jafar, Cruella de Vil, Ursula, etc; well hence the term ‘descendant’, meaning proceeding from an ancestor or source, the “Descendants” are their children.

I’ll give you a breakdown.

Mal is the daughter of Maleficent and played by actress and singer Dove Cameron.  Evie is the daughter of the Evil Queen and played by actress and singer Sofia Carson.  Jay is the son of Jafar and played by actor Bobo Stewart.  Audrey is the daughter of Aurora and played by Canadian actress, singer, and dancer Sarah Jeffery.  Ben is the son of Belle and ‘Beast’ and played by Australian actor, personality, and model Mitchell Hope.  Uma is the daughter of Ursula and played by actress and singer China Anne McClain.  Carlos is the son of Cruella de Vil and was played by Cameron Boyce.

Yesterday, we all learned Cameron Boyce passed away in his sleep from a seizure as a result of an ‘ongoing medical condition’ which has not, and probably will not be disclosed.

Breaking sad news to someone close to me is something I have done before, but it never gets easier.  In fact, it’s harder the closer I am to them.  In a previous relationship, I had to break the sad, tragic news of loved one’s passing to them.  That was the first time.  About ten years ago, I was faced with this responsibility again, having to tell my husband his dad passed away.  Yesterday, after learning of Cameron Boyce’s unexpected passing, I faced yet again, breaking the sad news, but this time to my daughter.  That was by far the hardest of all.

I could literally see her heart break and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  She idolized Cameron.  Her dad and I would pick on her, referring to him as her boyfriend, and like every young teenager, she would deny it, blushing her way through a verbal protest, ‘he’s not my boyfriend!’  So adorable; and yet, now a memory with a sad attachment.

As a mom, I hope I never have to break news like Cameron’s passing again, but I also know this is not a realistic expectation.  Like Cameron’s passing, things in life happen unexpectedly.  All I can do is be there for her, answer her questions, and remind her that his favorite thing to do in life was make people smile.

Rest in peace Cameron Boyce; May 1999-July 2019

A Little Business ‘Reading’

Hey Y’all!

This is just a little something I wanted to share with y’all.  I’m working on creating a link so you can print out your own copy, but these things take time.

Business Bookmark for BLOG

As always, thanks y’all, for reading and following me.  Your support means everything!

‘Take Me Out To The Ball Game…’

Hey y’all!

I don’t get out of my house much, but over the years I’ve come to prefer it that way…for the most part.  When I do go out, it’s to take my daughter to gymnastics or to a doctor’s appointment.  Occasionally, something bigger comes along.

For example, I just went to my first ever, Major League Baseball game.  The Atlanta Braves were playing against the Pittsburgh Pirates at Suntrust Field in Marietta, Georgia.

My dad bought tickets to go with a couple of his guy friends, but at the last minute they both had to back out.  Guess who went with dad instead.

What an experience!  I don’t usually watch baseball, but then again, there was a time when I didn’t watch racing or football.  Now I’m watching and following both college and professional football and I’ve been to Talladega Motor Speedway two years in a row.  Baseball might have a chance.

We didn’t get any autographs, I didn’t catch any foul balls, hubby and I weren’t caught on the KissCam, and none of us were caught camera time, but I certainly enjoyed watching others dance, react, and rock out during their 2-3 seconds of game fame.  Chipper Jones himself was caught in the stands, on camera, during the game.  The kids were so adorable showing off their dance moves and jamming out, and a couple at the game got engaged!

All the action happened in the second inning.  Four home runs, in a row, by the Atlanta Braves!  Our batters were on fire!

Then the real action came in sometime between the bottom of the 8th and the top of the 9th inning.  The weather was clear all day, then the sun went down, and the rain came in.  Everyone in ‘foul ball’ territory came in under the eaves where we sat, dry, to finish the game.  The weather decided for us.  When the fielders got to work covering the infield, we figured the game was called.  Now we walk.

It looked like a steady rain from the stands.  It wasn’t.  We walked all the way back to the car in torrential downpour.  We were soaked!  Dad drove home shirtless because his shirt looked like it came out of a loaded washing machine.  Hubby rode home shirtless for the same reason.  The rain was coming down so hard and in thick sheets, it made traffic crazy for lack of visual ability.  You couldn’t tell one lane from another.

Thankfully, my dad is a retired truck driver.  He’s driven in weather conditions not deemed safe by other members of the public transportation system.  Sometimes I don’t give him enough credit for his driving, other times I remind him he’s not my age anymore.  However, the lesson is we never lose our ‘niche’, no matter how old we become.  It’s always there, always with us.  My dad is a professional driver.  Who better to navigate traffic in treacherous weather?

Thanks, y’all.

As always, thank you for reading and thank you for your support.


Hey y’all!

I hope y’all had a better weekend than I did.  Well, it wasn’t so much a bad weekend, it was more like an unfortunate event that happened on Saturday.  I took a plunge down a flight of steps.

Remember when we were kids and sliding down the steps was fun?  Yeah, I do to, but I learned it’s only fun when you slide down on purpose.  It’s not so much when you’re walking, and your feet just come right out from under you.  I don’t know what my husband saw where he was behind me, but I’m still laughing about it.

Don’t be too alarmed.  The staircase I fell down is completely carpeted, but fuzzy purple socks didn’t help the situation.  I took one step and down I went… sliding seven steps before I finally managed to stop myself.  The front door was right there, so stopping before I hit that was priority.  My husband was right behind me but powerless or he’d have toppled too making a real mess.  A modern day, real life Jack and Jill nursery rhyme.  As it was, we were heading downstairs for sort of an after-dinner social with my parents.

I had my phone in one hand, a cup of green tea in my other hand, and I was wearing fuzzy purple socks.  I never walk around the house in stocking feet—a habit I got from my maternal grandmother, and for good reason.  I went down so fast…

I should have been able to count the steps as I slid.  My backside certainly felt every step as I went d-d-d-d-d-down.  When I did finally manage to stop, I got up to walk it off.  Ouch.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt or that I didn’t hurt myself.  I didn’t feel it immediately, but before I went to bed, the left side of my neck felt stiff and I could feel a pulsating heartbeat in my left butt-cheek.  Since the fall, bruising is still minimal and I’m a little stiff in areas, but I’m okay.  Everybody in the house heard it.  Our cats came running and my parents were right there in the living room; they just couldn’t see me because I was hidden on the other side of the banistered staircase wall.

Y’all, I’m still laughing about it!

As always, thank you for reading and for your support.