I am no Longer Twelve Part 2

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Coming back up the hill at dusk yesterday I was feeling quite chipper. My day had been productive, my husband and oldest son were back home from a working trip to Alabama and all was right with my world. As I skipped through the weeds and bounded up onto the first log across my path my foot didn’t find quite the purchase I expected. My right foot skittered down the face of the log (well and truly barking my shin. The rest of me came down on my upper left leg with a very solid smack on the top of the log. It seems I had a significant amount of momentum built up because my forward trajectory ended with a very solid face-plant in the weeds and dirt on the other side. I groped around for my glasses (thankfully the dirt was relatively soft and neither my glasses nor my nose seemed to be broken). Checked my pocket for my phone and then proceeded to hunt through the grass before I remembered that I had left it inside (I’ve lost count of the number of times it has bounced out of my hoodie pocket on one of my jaunts across the back yard). Hauling myself to my feet I established that nothing seemed to be broken (except for my dignity) and limped back into the house like the no-longer-quite-so-young person that I truly am. Inside I tended to my scrapes and sat down to nurse my injured self-respect. I hate to do this but...to be continued.