The Day I Did the Splits!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

When I was younger, I used to love gymnastics.  I took gymnastics lessons and even spent a couple of summers at gymnastics camp.  Unfortunately, when you are tall as I was as a kid, it didn’t take a genius to realize that I didn’t really have a future in gymnastics, when I could place both hands on the top bar of the uneven parallel bars and still have my feet on the floor.  If I would have tried one of those fancy dismounts where I spun round and round from the top bar, I would have been able to run my feet along the ground, like Fred Flintstone in his car, on every spin.  I preferred to play basketball and volleyball in high school and leave the cheerleading to others.  I do, however,  still remember cheerleading tryouts in elementary school and I still think my cheer was killer, “Hey there! Hi there! How do you do? Bethlehem Bullets want to welcome you! With a capital H and a capital I, Bethlehem Bullets say hi!” but I may have been the only one who felt that way about my cheer. I continue to pull out my routine from time to time to help any nieces trying out for cheerleading, but none of them have yet to use my awesome routine, but they do laugh.  My other downfall when it came to cheerleading was I could never do the splits. I was a tomboy and very athletic, but the splits were beyond my athletic ability and flexibility level.  Today, at the age of 57, I did the splits and lived to tell about it.

 

It started off like most of our Sundays.  We decided to go out on the pontoon boat for an hour or two after breakfast. Our Sundays are a little like déjà vu, as a lot of what happens each Sunday feels like we have already done all this before.  Almost every boat trip, I get the boat ready and John walks the dogs until I am finished and then brings them down to the boat.  I am trying desperately to get one shot of them running side by side down the pier, directly towards me.  The first couple of weeks I would look at my shots and there John would be smack dab in the middle of two running dogs, until finally I asked if he could step off onto one of the side piers as they started to run, so he would not be in the shot.  Once we got that down, another problem arose and that one being he can’t seem to release both dogs at the same time.  It happened again today and I suspect John may be a graduate of the Silent and Slow Monks of New Skete dog training class of 2014.  In case you are wondering, the Silent and Slow Monks are an offshoot of the other dog training Monks, but this group never utters a single command or word so the dog knows what is expected of him and does everything so slowly that the dog finally says, “oh, what the hell,” and decides he will just do what feels right to him at the time.  The only time the monks speak is when it all goes wrong and then they usually respond with something like, “what is wrong with this dog?”

 

On Sunday, it happened again. I was at the end of the pier all set up for my “double dog running” shot only to see a single dog named Vern barreling towards me. 

John was a huge help when he yelled down to me, “Vern got away from me again,” in case I couldn’t figure all that out as Vern approached without Fudge. Seriously, sometimes I think I should just wrangle a complete stranger into helping me do this one small task of saying, “Stay, Fudge and Vern!” until I call them.  Also, not to be too mean, but if Vern can outsmart you, you have got some real problems. I am also well aware of the Feigned Incompetence Method of getting out of helping that some members of my family try to use, but this is ridiculous.  Yet, week after week, we go through the same scenario and by the time John makes his way down to the boat, blaming either Fudge or Vern for another failed photo attempt, neither of us is looking forward to being confined in a small pontoon boat with the other.

 

OK, now that you see what I am dealing with every weekend, it may come as no surprise that once the dogs board the boat, it is me that runs around getting life jackets on the dogs, filling up their water dish, attaching Fudge to her 30-foot line, putting the towels away, and organizing the boat.  Usually, while I am doing all this, John is checking his cell phone for messages or putting his water shoes on and always seems genuinely surprised when I mention that he could give me a hand.  The same thing used to happen when the kids were little and we had to be somewhere. As I scrambled to get us all ready, John was always in the bathroom and from the amount of time it took, I was convinced he was either digging some sort of escape tunnel to the outside world or needed to see a Gastroenterologist. Sometimes, I would knock on the door and yell, “You can come out now. Everything is done!” and I got the same surprised look when he opened the door as I get on the boat.  Almost always, he says, “How was I supposed to know you needed help?”

 

The only point to all this is sometimes when we leave the dock to go out on the open water, we may or may not be thinking murderous thoughts.  Quite frankly, it could have gone either way today, and I am just lucky I survived what I am about to tell you and John drove the boat in the direction I told him to and did not "accidentally" gun the boat in reverse.  We also have a system for leaving the dock and docking the boat and in both cases, John is the driver and I shove us off or jump off as he docks and hook the boat up.  So, Sunday, I was the shover and because we have had a couple of dicey moments with wind, etc. it is a rule that the shover/docker always have on a life jacket.  Unfortunately, I forgot the rule on Sunday and as Hayley reminded me, I said something flip like, “pipe down, little matey, or Captain Stupy may make me walk the plank,” and proceeded to push the boat away from the pier. As the boat was clearing our docking space, I went to jump on the boat and my Keen sandal got stuck on the metal part of the dock where we hook the mooring ropes and I could not pull it free. As John was backing the boat out, I had one foot stuck on the dock and one foot on the boat and was hanging on for dear life as my legs were going in opposite directions.  Honest to God, I did not know until this happened, that I could do the splits.  I am telling myself that John and Hayley did not realize the seriousness of my predicament because both of them were laughing, until I started yelling for John to go forward.  Luckily, John went forward before my legs split in two and I was able to release my foot and get on the boat.

Picture this...only not as graceful and a look of panic on her face!

Once I was safe on the boat, it hit me what could have happened and I said over and over, “I could have broken a leg or hit my head or drowned.”  Well, I could tell everyone was as shook up as I was by the fact that they could not stop laughing.  John was laughing actual belly laughs and all but slapping his knee and kept saying over and over again, “only you, Laurie.”  Meanwhile, I felt as if I had just given birth to one of those huge kids you read about in the news and if I had had a frozen steak on the boat, I can tell you I would have been sitting on it.

Nothing I said stopped them from laughing and when I informed them that I thought I had a major groin injury and I was worried parts of me were going to have to go to the garage for major repairs, Hayley said, “gross,” and John said he thought the garage had gone out of business a long time ago. John also said he was only laughing when it happened because he thought I was playing a joke on him and when I said, “Have you ever seen my legs look like that before? Do I look like Gabby Douglas on the balance beam?” he started really laughing and said not really, but I was starting to sound like Crabby Douglas.

When I relayed the whole story to Megan, all she said was, “mom, you are fine,” and accused me of being dramatic when I said her soon-to-be son almost had two Grandma halves to love.

 

I was still talking about all the what ifs on the way home and finally said to John, “instead of laughing, you should be thankful that I am safe and still with you!”  He sobered up for a minute and said, “if only I could remember I am the luckiest man alive,” but then he giggled again and added, “only you, Laurie!”

P.S. I told my mom today what happened and here is what she said, "I don't feel too sorry for you, because you are always joking around and nobody ever knows when you are serious." She then went on to say I am too obsessed with my photography and my dogs :) Next time, I will just phone a friend.

 

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Lori, You captured it beautifully :) LOL

[Lori, Quincy & Frankie]

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Joanne, I love that shot. Just don't tell Leslie, I can't squat and get back up :) LOL

Thanks, Gail. You may be in the minority on the "two Lauries". LOL

Jane, I know exactly what you mean. I hope he is just pretending or dear lord :)

[Joanne ~ Spud*]

This is Laurie doing the Sitz not the Splitz

( going through photos today and look what I found)

[Gail and Bailey]

Glad you are still in one piece, Laurie!    Although.............two Lauries would be awesome!!  

[Jane, Guinness and Murphy]

LOL, Laurie....I love the "Feigned Incompetence Method".  I often struggle with weather or not my DH's incompetence is "feigned" or actually real....either way it sure gets him out of doing a lot of "stuff".

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Thanks, DJ!! I am glad no one stopped laughing long enough to get pictures :)

[DJ & Chance]

OMD, one of the funniest yet!  I can just picture you spread between the boat and the dock wondering if anyone would take seriously the fact that you were almost ready to be split into two.  LOL, two of you.  Just think!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Sheila, Who me....dramatic? Bite your tongue :) LOL Thanks for the effort!

[Sheila & Finnley]

Laurie, it has been awhile since I have put my best efforts into a comment, after another one of your wonderful drama stories blogs! You deserved it :)