everybody cut footloose

I think that God, fate, Buddha, karma, Achilles, big brother, Saint Peter or someone with a voodoo doll of me is trying to break my ankles.

Starting from the beginning - about three years ago, I fell down a flight of stairs at work and tore two ligaments in my ankle and although my ligaments are all, well...glued nicely back together, my ankle still gives me trouble.

Any way - on Wednesday we were walking to the supermarket, tromping through autumn leaves and having much fun when I slid on something on the footpath, twisting my ankle and would have crashed dramatically to the pavement, had my lovely boy not been there for me to cling to.

Also - after i almost face-planted, I realised that it was a great big poo that I had slid on.

In my favourite shoes.

Unimpressed.

Then yesterday, i was sitting hugging my kitten, when my phone rang and I disentangled myself to get to it realising, as my feet hit the ground, that my left foot (again) was asleep and I fell to the ground. (still clutching a now terribly angry cat) I landed, bizarrely on my foot and upper part of my ankle - not really sure how - and it is still terribly sore today.
And I missed the phone call! From my mum who arrived in Paris yesterday!


Side note - Admittedly, I am terribly klutzy and if there is an opportunity to trip over/fall down, I usually am not able to resist.
(Two examples: the scar on my forehead from intimate meeting with a concrete step in primary school, the pain in my coccyx from my fabulous pratfall on my slippery, rained on front porch)

In spite of my very common, often comedic skills in the exact opposite of grace, I would appreciate it if someone could have words to...well, the God of Ankles for me?

Pratfalls and face-plants aside, I really do need my ankles in tact.

Lovely, all I am is Lovely. Lovely is the one thing I can dooooooooo

I was talking to a woman who knew me briefly, when I was a kid - seriously, about ten years ago, she vaguely knew my mum, and since Lizzie and I were/are/will always be essentially joined at the hip, she thus knew me.

I said that when I get nervous I get very shy or babble nonsensically.... more so than on a normal day.


The response was that I would then just come across as more bubbly, cheerful, than nervous.

She then told me I was lucky as I had inherited a very alluring personality from my mum.

You have an alluring personality.

I don't know that this is true.
Or exactly what it means.
Pretty sure she wasn't trying to pick me up.
(Humour. Har.)

But I liked and was intrigued by it.