Monday Memories

Monday Memories: Did I ever tell you about The Time I Broke My Collar Bone? One fall Saturday morning in 1989, I was playing softball with the church softball team, which primarily consisted of a bunch of old (to me. at the time.) men. I never played ball with these guys, but my dad had asked me to sub, and since I had no where better to be that morning, I agreed. Now, before I get too far into this, I should mention that I had played softball every summer since age 7. So, I was no amateur. Also worth noting, I never played outfield - I'm an infield gal, don'tcha know - but the outfield, oh, the lumpy, mole haven outfield, is where this vivid memory takes place... So, I'm in the outfield. Bored. Then, all of the sudden, a high fly ball pops into center field. Hey Wait! I'm in centerfield! I gotta go get it and show these geezers how to really play! So, off I go, chasing the high popper that is coming down to land in left center field. I'm so close! I can see it! I can reach it! MINE! I yelled. I lean right, as my gloved, left-hand reaches across my body and above my head, stretched as far as it will go. I'm not gonna make it, I think to myself, I'm gonna have to jump for it. So, as I took a flying leap towards the ball, my foot gets swallowed up in this mole-hole patch of earth. Instead of looking like Ozzie diving after a line drive, I end up on the ground, looking like a tee-baller who'd rather pick clover that pay attention. And, yes, the ball was lying next to my glove. *sigh* Everybody gathers round, "you ok? you alright?" Dad's right there, relaying to everyone, "She's fine. Shake it off." My arm seemed kinda sore where I landed on it, but I thought I'd live, so I shook it off and kept playing. One more out and our team's up to bat. I'm up third. I grabbed a bat, just to get in a few practice swings before entering the on-deck circle and, something seems awry. My arm doesn't feel right. I can swing the bat, but it sure doesn't feel right. I attempt to swing the bat over my head, y'know, stretch out the triceps a bit. Uh. No. Not. Gonna. Happen. I turn to my father, who's giving me this look like, Ahhh, C'mon, You're not hurt! and explain that I can't lift my arm above my shoulder. So, like any caring father would do, he takes my arm and tries to force it above my shoulder, at which point my scream of agony proved to him that I could not, in fact, lift it that high. Duh. I just said that. And THAT, folks, is how I broke my collar bone. Just goes to show you, karma's a bitch when you're trying to be a show off. Stay tuned next week for the memory of how I broke my nose. The following spring. Playing softball. Links to other Monday Memories (If you participate, leave your link in the comments and I'll post it below)

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