My sister calls me Inspector Clouseau because my clumsiness often leaves a trail of near-miss-disasters in my wake. For example, I might burn my hand taking cookies out of the oven at her house. I might yell and drop the cookie sheet on the counter. The spoons might clatter out of the mixing bowl onto the floor, and I might bend over to pick them up, hitting my head on the hot cookie sheet when I stand up, sending the cookies flying across her kitchen, and my sister catching the cartwheeling cookie sheet with a hot pad as it crashes off the counter. She will laugh and say, “It might be time for you to take a break, Inspector.”
I have a great sister.
This clumsiness works out well for the kids–they can never make a bigger mess than I do. In fact, it is me who spills down the front of my shirts, breaks glasses when I wash them, accidentally throws out the family’s passports…But I’m working on mindfulness. In the meantime, I cherish the people who love me in spite of the spilled drinks in their laps and missed planes because I mis-read the tickets. Pain in the ass, I know, but at least it’s always an adventure.
Similar Posts
A Passion Play in Oberammergau
We climbed higher and higher, the air smelling fresher and crisper, until we finally arrived in the tiny Bavarian town.
It smelled like home, with the lush forests covering the mountains, the smell of evergreen, wildflowers and even a touch of snow that stays on the highest peak, even in the middle of summer.
