No Jackie O

Those of you who know me well know I LOVE Jackie Kennedy. There are many ways in which I try to emulate her. I wear pearls as my signature jewelry item (and mine are fake, just like her signature three string pearls), I send out handwritten notes on personal stationary, I try to be the perfect hostess, and I try to choose a classic way of dressing that is stylish yet timeless (that is a work in progress, it's harder than it sounds). There are many many ways in which I will never ever be like her. She was always graceful in walk with her shoulders back. Well, I inherited my fathers gait, and while it's great for a man it's less than attractive on a woman. I've tried very hard to change. I've even walked over and over towards mirrors. It doesn't work. My shoulders also slump. I think I inherited that from my mother, who was never proud enough of her 5 feet 11 inches and therefore always slumps (and just in case the height wasn't enough to make you hate her, she's skinny like a supermodel too). Jackie spoke in a quiet soft voice that made gentlemen have to lean in to hear her. If you've spent .7 seconds with me, you know I'm LOUD. It's another thing I try to change. In college I decided instead of fighting it I would just channel the trait into becoming a speech communication major. I never made less than an A. Go figure.

So why the sudden dissertation on the strengths of Jackie and the weaknesses of Angela? Because tonight I had another reminder of why I can never be like her. I arrived home after nine tonight from an SAA meeting. I got out of my car (and I would like to insert here that it was raining all day and the ground is quite slippery) to walk to the trunk to get out a bag and WIPE OUT! You know those times when you fall when you just don't know where you lost your footing or how, but suddenly you're out of control? Well, I slipped on the ground, twisted my ankle, and rolled a little ways down our front hill with the contents of my purse strewn over the lawn. There was searing pain through my ankle and foot. I managed to drag my body to my purse, fish out my phone, and call Ben who was inside. When he came out the door his response was not, "Oh my goodness, poor baby, are you okay?". Nope, it was "Why in the heck are you laying in the middle of the yard, get up!". Now I ask, if I had been able to get up, why I would have called him? He also said, "You are officially the clumsiest person I know." OUCH. I'm pretty sure Jack never said that to Jackie. He really shouldn't complain. He hasn't taken me to the hospital for my clumsiness nearly as many times as my college roommate Elizabeth did. The UGA Health Center knew us well! Anyway, he carried me in the house and did some manipulations on the ankle. While I have complete faith in him and know he would never do anything to hurt me, in the midst of the pain in my ankle I found myself screaming, "Please don't!! Remember you are not yet licensed to practice medicine!" He keeps telling me how dramatic I am, but how can talking about how bad something hurts if it really hurts be dramatic? So, I cannot put any pressure on my ankle AT ALL. Ben, being the clever boy he his, devised a way for me to get myself around the house.

Used to be a bar stool...now it's my walker.

So I'm in the bed, and I ask Ben to bring me orange juice and my computer so I can blog and he said I was PUSHING IT!

He brought the orange juice, but do you know that he refused to bring me to my computer so I could blog? He said I am way too addicted to blogging and he refused to be an enabler.

This is me, devastated, desperate, and begging!

So, I did what any dedicated blogger would do. I got my stool/walker and began the slow trip across the house myself to update the blog with the night's adventures. I do know Jackie was determined to get what she wanted, so here's an A+ to me for stubbornness.

And...come to think of it...Jackie did sprain her ankle while participating in one of the rough Kennedy tag football games at Hyannis Port, so hey, maybe there's hope for me yet!