I've been told that when I was a wee little Bee, I would run with my legs straight without bending my knees.
Yeah. Everyone, who is at least 10 years older than me, loves LOVES telling me about my weird robot running. Ha ha! What a freakin' riot it was to see me chasing butterflies! Don't worry, that was my only defect, in every other way I was (AM) perfect.
Then I grew up and had to do track, jump hurdles, pole vaults and other body torturing exercises in school so I learned to bend my knees and became a part of the agile, rhythmically blessed population.
My newly learned knee bendiness came in handy in my teen years because I come from a Festive Mexican family who loves parties. What's a party without music? Why have music if not to dance?
So I learned to groove with the best of them. My hips would move like this and that. My feet moved my legs and my upper body followed the rhythm. All appropriate body parts were always in sync.
This skill came in handy in my 20s when I was hitting the clubs scene. Ahh so many memories, so much fun.
As I'm aging, I've noticed that my groove (but not the Stella groove) has either been replaced with Ed Grimley's or it was just killed and buried in an avocado orchard.
Now I find myself dancing, only when I'm alone, to my old-school (as in 90s jams) music and looking like I'm trying to crush and/or kick invisible insects.
I know I can still find the rhythm because I tap my foot at all the right places. I do a mean upper body jam while sitting on a chair but if I get up and try to move all my limbs at once in time to the music? DEH! FAIL!
I need to know what happened, did someone substitute my bone marrow by injecting concrete?? Is it something I can fix? Maybe I can have a Elainebenisdectomy?
Do you know how sad this makes me? I go to parties, such as the one I attended this past Saturday where my brothers nearly broke their backs by break-dancing (by the way, the peer pressure to have me drunk was unbelievable! I just love how the family will unite for one goal and then mercilessly taunt me by saying "if you don't have a drink, you're old!" for crapsake people! it's like we're living in the 90s again and you are my booze buddies!)(I'm also happy to report that, due to my Mojito training of this past summer, I DID NOT GET HALF AS DRUNK AS THE LIL BROTHERS! HA! In your faces!), and see the young 'uns tearing it up, I die a little inside.
I've been living with this secret for a few years now. While I'm glad I got this off my chest, I hope you will be compassionate enough not to mock me.
While removing the potting soil from my terracotta pots so that I may store them for the winter, I came across many little nuts like these.
The damn squirrels have been ruining my plants the whole season to store their little winter stash. They've destroyed many beautiful flowers and my pepper plants MY PEPPER PLANTS the little habaneros and jalapeños did not even have a chance to burn anyone's butt on their way out!
When I was putting all the nuts in a container, my beloved husband said "You do realize they're counting on those nuts, right? If you take them, some may not make it through the winter."
My response? Payback, she is a bitch, no??
What? I never said I was nice!!