The Return of Grace

When I was a kid I was seriously accident prone.

So much so that my parents started calling me "Grace" - as in "Not Graceful At All"

I couldn't blame them.

After all, I did break my nose falling up a flight of stairs and I broke my leg jumping into a kiddie pool.

Those were just some of the more notable events.

I walked into walls, tripped over my own feet, and just generally stumbled through my childhood.

As I got older things got a little better. I can walk without tripping or running into something most days now.

But every once in a while Grace shows up.

The Island King and I were looking for a geocache in Seaside the other day and had to walk down this path to find it.

We got to the end and found that the pavilion is closed for repairs and that we'll have to come back for the cache another day.

So we turned around and headed back into the truck.

About halfway down the path I felt pain and realized that my arm had just slammed into something.

On a wide clear path I managed to walk right into the sign in the middle.

The same sign I'd just passed two minutes earlier.

And I never saw it coming.

The Island King has a new (old) First Aid Kit in his truck that he's been dying to use

so he went into paramedic mode.

I thought the big bandage was overkill but he was busy trying to get out of trouble for taking pictures of my butt every time I bent over to look for a geocache.

I guess that no matter how old I get, Grace will still rear her head from time to time.