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| HUMOR FROM THE PUMPKIN PATCH By Marti Lawrence Articles published in The Examiner Newspaper Meet the Queen Blutz I...(pausing for dramatic effect)...am a Blutz. When Husband met my extended family for the first time, one cousin asked, "Is she still a klutz?" He smiled knowingly and nodded. |
| But truth be told, it is actually much, much worse. Not only am I a klutz, but I am also prone to bad luck. Combine the bad luck with the clumsiness, and you get me. A Blutz. I am not merely "unlucky", because that indicates simply a lack of luck. I have an abundance of luck, all of it abominable. If it is raining (like Monday) and we have a difficult journey, (like Monday) such as driving Daughter to a doctor appointment, the windshield wiper will come loose. Flop-around-like-a-trout kind of loose. Son was unavailable to drive, so we are wing-and-a-prayer-ing it, with tenderfoot at the wheel. Daughter flashes nervous look at me. I look back at her; we both look at the wiper, which now appears to be possessed by evil spirits. We begin laughing (knowing how much evil spirits HATE that). We muddle through the rest of the journey, without the aid of the haunted windshield wiper. Of course the parking lot is full. Daughter is too young too drive, although an impromptu lesson did cross my mind. We park almost as far away as we'd driven, Daughter dashes and I hobble (using my new cane) into the building. The elevator arrives at last and we ascend to the office, to be told, oops, sorry, the doctor isn't in today. We tried to call you....we think....Did you drive far? Oh, is it still raining? Daughter and I look at the puddles formed by our dripping clothes, look at one another, and laugh at the foolish question. Foolish questioners also hate laughter. Who but a Blutz could break not one, but BOTH ankles so severely that metals plates and screws are required to put them back together again? When questioned now about the healing process of the right ankle, I shock the already-wide-eyed by saying, (while exposing the scar on the LEFT ankle), "Well, this one took about six months, but of course I was also PREGNANT when it was broken." Spectators slowly back away while looking skyward, certain that lightening is going to strike the Blutz and they want to be clear of the harm zone, because after all, that much metal has GOT to attract lightening. I don't bother telling many that the left ankle cast remained on during birth/delivery of Middle Son, who was born breech. Why stretch my credibility with such outlandish truths? Besides, there are always the inevitable questions that arise when I point out the leg injuries with the finger that was amputated and reattached, and THAT scar has to be explained. Before my age even reached a two-digit number, we had made so many visits to the Emergency Room, the staff knew us on a first-name basis. They would wave at Father, he would nod back (unable to wave as he was carrying a screaming, bleeding-or-broken child). They would order the forklift to retrieve our file. It should be no surprise that my ankles are now reinforced with stainless steel, since they got their first break (but not in a good way) SIMULTANEOUSLY when I was six. Although I have had hundreds of wounds, the concurrent-double-ankle-break is in the Top Ten on the All Time Injury List. In the manner of "Scout" in "To Kill A Mockingbird", I jammed body parts into too-narrow railings and got stuck. While visiting the zoo, I wanted to peer over the wrought iron fence, rather than through it. I tried to raise myself by squeezing my feet in between the upright posts, putting my weight onto the bottom crossbar, which was six inches off the ground. I had a wonderful view! Then I decided to jump free. I let go with my hands and shoved off! My feet did not shove off, but stayed, as though welded to the iron rail. All of me hit the ground except the feet, which remained six inches off the ground, stuck in the railing. SNAP! Both ankles. My head cracked the pavement and I received a concussion, passing out, and remaining unconscious until awakening with two leg casts on in the hospital. I was still in my formative years then, and the bone repair did not require insertion of metallic gadgetry. Still, it remains legend in family history. And thus, I... (sound the royal trumpets...dun-duh-duh-daaaaa!)...am the Queen of Blutz. Long Live the Queen. |
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