A Rose by any other name....

...would still manage to fall out of the Limo.

That being said, let's take a trip down memory lane.

(imagine a ripple-y effect and weird shimmery sounds right here)

over the years, I have had many nicknames. Some wanted, some not.

The Queen of Non Sequitur. (I think we've established the reasoning behind that one.) Chiffer. (A long and complicated story behind that one. Suffice it to say that unless you're my daddy, you aren't allowed to use that one.) Quacky. (Again. Weird explanation. Don't call me this.) Jack, Jacq, Jac. (Acceptable.) Jacq-o. (Um.....another weird reason. [I'm starting to sense a trend here].) Jackie. (Now, this one isn't a nickname per se. It's just that people are lazy and inconsiderate. I hate this name.) Grace.

Wait..Grace?

Growing up, the following by-play (with minor variations) was often heard in the house.

me: CRASH!!! BOOM!!! "I'm alright!"
dad: "Way to go, Grace."

Yep. I'm clumsy. Always have been. Surprised? Well, I go to great pains to hide it. I don't make large gestures when other people are around. I rarely run or jump around people I don't know REALLY well. I'm not always successful, but most of the time I manage to keep my clumsy moments small, brief and unremarkable.

But, every once in a while......

Yes, every once in a while, my clumsiness comes roaring to the foreground, manifesting itself in ways both glorious and horrible to behold. I become the center of attention, wowing people with my inability to control the movements of my own body.

Unfortunately, I have had two such incidents in the last two weeks. Apparently, my clumsiness feels it's not getting enough attention and is DEMANDING the respect it deserves.

Incident #1:
I was biking to school (which I do most days. It's only about a mile.) Thankfully I was wearing pants and I did not have my horn with me. I get to a certain point in my journey when I can either continue straight past the school, cross the street with the crossing guard and come in from the front of the building, OR, I can cross the road without the benefit of the nice crossing guard, and cut 3 or 4 minutes off my journey. Naturally, I choose the latter option. (I forgot to mention that I am usually so good at hiding my clumsiness that I often forget how clumsy I really am, and therefore make decisions without considering that my genetic inability to master simple physical tasks will eventually rear it's ugly head.) When crossing this road, I don't stop my bike and wait for traffic to pass. Instead, I look over my shoulder, wait for an opening and go. I did this every day for about 5 weeks. Until....One Thursday, I was riding to school in the normal manner. I turned to look over my shoulder to check for cars. Ok, it's clear. Go! I turned back around and my bike hit the curb. I was able to hang on for a few seconds, legs pumping frantically for purchase, but it was no use. The bike fell over. This is where the pants thing becomes VERY important. Had I been wearing a skirt, the embarrassment (ok, AND amusement) factor would have been WAY higher. My leg got scraped up and I know that at least 30 people went to work with a story that began something like this: "Dude, I saw this chick TOTALLY eat it on my way in this morning!!"

Incident #2
Today. I was forced to chaperone a Limo ride as a prize for students who sold a certain number of items in our school fundraiser. (Personally, I think that qualifies as Student Teacher Abuse, but nobody listens to me.) Anyway. I got in and out of that Limo (a Humvee limo, I might add) at least 3 times before we got back to the school. Each time, I thumbed my nose at my clumsiness. "I am so good", I thought to myself as I jumped out of the limo and gracefully climbed back in. Then we got back to the school.

Now, maybe it's because we got out on the other side of the limo, but I'm pretty sure that my clumsy side had had enough mockery and had decided to show me who is boss. The students filed out of the limo. I put one foot on the runningboard, moved my other foot and promptly fell flat on my face. I scraped up both knees and elbows. My head stopped a scant inch from smacking into the curb. The limo driver caught one arm, but by the time he did, I was already down. Finally, the flailing arms and legs came to a halt, and I raised my head to behold the horrified looks on the faces of the parents there to retrieve their Limo-riding students, and amusement on the students' faces as they watched a teacher and so-called roll model wipe out. Oh, they quickly hid that amusement behind masks of bored concern, but I saw it.

And there you have it. Jacqueline - 0. Clumsy Genes - 9,247 (and that's just this year).

On the upside, I long ago came to terms with this side of me and have long since given up being embarrassed by such situations.