I don't play sports.
I trip. A lot.
As in, just walking down the hallway.
Oh and I run into walls, too. Not figurative ones. Literally. Walls.
My kids tell me "It's okay, I'll run after it, Mom" when I try to play catch with them.
I don't run (see aforementioned tripping note).
I was always picked last for sports teams.
I have been hit by more than my fair of dodge balls. Well, because I just can't dodge very well.
I am the girl who always finds an excuse to leave the dance floor when the "Electric Slide" comes on at weddings. Well that is for a host of reasons, only one of them being I am always the girl facing the wrong direction and clapping on the wrong beat.
If you look up uncoordinated in the dictionary it looks like this:
(ŭn'kō-ôr'dn-ā'tĭd)
1. Lacking physical or mental coordination.
2. Lacking planning, method, or organization.
And that is why I am just a wee bit stressed out by what I am doing tonight.
Brian and I were invited to be guests of Metro Dentalcare at the Saint Paul Saints game.
No, I'm not nervous about that part. A date night with Brian sounds great.
But the kicker? They have asked me to throw out the first pitch.
You can stop laughing. Well okay, keep laughing.
When I got the email inviting me to do that I have to admit I laughed out loud. And when I told Brian about it, he laughed even harder.
And then I knew. Yup, this is something I have to do.
Because if you can't laugh at yourself and invite a few hundred people to laugh
However, Brian has offered to play catch with me in the backyard before we go. That, in itself, is, I am sure, going to be pure comedy. Before we had kids, we used to go to the park by Lake Michigan where we lived in Chicago and try to play frisbee. I often joked it looked like Brian was trying to throw a frisbee to his blind dog.
Um yeah, this is going to be good.
