I've been in a mood lately...

...so as Monty Python would say, "and now for something completely different!"

My kids are natural athletes. Liz played basketball as a tween, and though she was short, she could steal the ball from even the tallest girl on the team. She'd make a fast break and be under the basket all by herself before the others knew she was gone. Unfortunately, that's where the excitement ended 'cause she couldn't shoot for beans, and had to wait for the rest of her team to catch up for someone else to dunk it in the basket, but you couldn't keep the ball out of her hands. Laura swims and dives and does gymnastics, and she's good at it all. She's fast as lightning on a rock climbing wall. She has a natural agility that amazes me.

My kids don't get their athletic talent from me. In school, when the kids chose teams in gym class, I was always chosen last. Well, not last, but next to last, a fact I was somewhat proud of, pathetically enough. Over the years I've tried to encourage myself in athletic pursuits, but with no natural aptitude, it's been tough.

I've learned to swim after a fashion, but I can't swim and breathe at the same time because I can't exhale when my nose is submerged in water.

I tried water skiing, but couldn't get stand up on the skis and had to swim back to shore in disgrace.

I tried playing tennis on a date I had with a corrections officer. I don't really remember the date, but since he didn't call me back for a doubles match, I assume it didn't go well.

I once went skiing with friends. I couldn't make it up a small incline to the bottom of the bunny hill to where the rope tow began. Toddlers went running by me on their tiny skis as I tried and tried to get up the small slope that led to the tow. I kept slipping and sliding further and further away, getting perilously close to a small stream on the edge of the ski slope. I quit before I ended up in the small stream and took my skis off, leaving the white powder for the safety of the ski lodge and comfort of steaming hot chocolate.

I went with my husband to a batting cage when we were young and our relationship was new, before he realized what a klutz he was dating. I swung at the first pitch and missed completely. I swung at the second pitch and hit a home run with the middle finger of my left hand.
I called out to my yet-to-be-husband, "I think I broke my finger!"
He called back to me, "Nah."
I called back to him, "Yeah!"
He didn't believe me till I tried to flip him the bird and couldn't because my finger wouldn't straighten out.

And then I went horseback riding and my bra fell off.

I went for one horseback riding lesson. It went well until the end when the instructor increased the pace of the horse to a quick 'canter'. I felt one bra strap start to slide down my shoulder till it landed at my elbow. "OK," I thought to myself, "I can handle this, it's only one strap," but then I felt the other strap fall. Next thing you know, I'm two tits to the wind. The horse and I are bouncing up and down as we circle the ring. My elbows are pressed to my sides trying to hold my boobage in place, and my hands are holding the reins with the white-knuckle grip of death. I remember thinking to myself that I needed to get off the horse while my breasts were still attached, before the horse got to wear them as saddle ornaments.

The lesson ended, I said thank you and left, never to return.

I now only participate in things that require me to sit still and watch. It's safer for all concerned. My new favorite sport is spectating. I can spectate like it's nobody's business. I don't break any bones, and all my undies stay right where they belong.