>I Was Born a Clutz

>Nor’easters

Yesterday after two terrific days in Philadelphia, we got word that the Nor’easter swooping down on the campground outside of Philly was supposed to be a doozie. The thought of a four-hour drive down I-95 in 40-60mph winds, with 18-wheelers and heavy rain was enough to convince us that we needed to pack up and head home early. It was a good decision based on what we’ve seen today here in Richmond in terms of the rain and some of the wind.

After a day trucking through the historic district of Philly, we made a side stop at one of the many cemeteries in the area where we stayed. The DH and I love to read the tombstones, and there were some wonderful pieces of art work to be found among these tributes to those long gone. Of particular note for us were the lights! There were dozens of light-sensitive torches positioned at different gravestones that turn on at night to light up the tombstone itself. It was the first time we’d seen something like this, and I found the whole concept incredibly neat. The girls thought the DH and I were weird. LOL

This particular monument caught me eye after at least two looks. I thought it was simply a tree they’d had to cut down, but as we turned the corner of the road, I realized it was an actual tombstone. THIS I found truly an awesome monument. Of course, Pusey Wickersham’s name seemed pretty apropos for an erotic romance writer to pick up on too. LOL

Why Is Nothing Ever Easy

After we arrived home I had to direct the parking of the travel trailer, which we have a bike rack attached to. I mention the bike rack, because that damn thing has a habit of attacking me when I least expect it too. So last night, I’m checking the placement of the trailer, and I walk around the back of it to check the opposite side. When WHAM! like a bat out of hell it hits me. I swear to God, it was like something out of a movie where inanimate objects deliberately shift to put themselves in the way of humans. BAM goes my head against the three-inch thick metal bar. One minute it wasn’t there and then it shifted position to halt me dead in my tracks.

I stumbled backward with a howl of pain, I can only imagine what the neighbors thought considering it was 1am in the morning. So I’m hyperventilating as I try to suck up the pain and pretend I’m okay. Not working, obviously. The DH hearing my cries comes running back and pulls me into the light. Since it’s raining, I’m figuring that the wet stuff on my face is rain, but the minute the DH goes, “OMIGOD, honey, you’re bleeding like crazy.” I immediately get sick to my stomach.

I Don’t Do Blood

When the kids get cut, I have to send them to the DH or I’ll wind up passed out on the floor. So the DH drags me (rather I stagger after him, trying not to toss my cookies) me into the house. I refuse to go into the bathroom for fear of seeing all this blood and then passing out on him. Naturally, it doesn’t help that my head is throbbing and the girls are going OMIGOD repeatedly when they see my face, which apparently is smeared with blood.

After a few minutes we get the bleeding stop, and I finally get to look at the damage. It’s a nice cut on the bridge of my nose where the bike bar rammed my glasses down into my skin in this perfect little half-moon shape. Of course complimenting the cut is a black and blue Easter Egg on my forehead. The decorations I can handle, because the thought of going to the ER again, even if Dr. Hogan were on duty is NOT happening. I do not want someone jabbing my nose with a needle to numb it before stitches. OY!

So we’ll see what kind of a makeup artist I am come next week when I travel to RT in Houston. I CANNOT believe the month I’m having! Grrrr! LOL

Monica<---who is sending the DH to the store for more sugar for her lemons so she can make lemonade.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized by Monica Burns. Bookmark the permalink.

About Monica Burns

A bestselling author of erotic romance, Monica Burns penned her first short romance story at the age of nine when she selected the pseudonym she uses today. From the days when she hid her stories from her sisters to her first completed full-length manuscript, she always believed in her dream despite rejections and setbacks. A workaholic wife and mother, Monica believes itโ€™s possible for the good guy to win if they work hard enough.

2 thoughts on “>I Was Born a Clutz

  1. >Well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who’s done something like that! LOL

    Thanks for dropping by, Cole.

    Monica

  2. >Oh I know running into that bike wheel really hurt – but I have done the same thing! And I couldn’t stop laughing reading it… good to know I’m not the only one! ๐Ÿ™‚

    Have a great week!
    Cole