my old football injury

I'm looking forward to the day when I'm stooped over, decrepit and grey,  (Oh wait, I'm already grey.) when I can say, upon feeling a chill in the air, "Yep sonny boy, it's gonna' rain. I can feel it in my bones.  My old football injury is acting up."

Won't that be awesome?  Oh yeah, I will wear long holey brown cardigans with floral dresses underneath, no bra and possibly boots and large lopsided hats.  (I won't have cats though.  Dementia or not, NO cats.)

So yes, it will be awesome except for that aggravating football injury that "pains my bones" every time the weather is damp.

What?

You didn't know I have a football injury?

Well, I do.  I got it just a few days ago.

Flag football in the backyard was our "game" for Family Home Evening on Monday night.  While I consider myself "semi-sporty" and a mediocre athlete, I have never actually played football before.  Turns out it's pretty fun (except for the injury part).

My team was getting creamed (notice my sports lingo?) by the other team, which probably had an unfair advantage with Stick as their "Captain."  We were determined to not go down without a fight (more sports lingo) so after our huddle, we got ready to defend and block their team.

This is where the details get a little fuzzy in my head.  I remember running after Hootis and looking at her flags to determine if I could grab them.  She ran out of bounds, but not noticing this, I continued after her.  The next thing I knew I was sprawled out on the cement patio and experiencing pain in several areas.  And, just for fun, Brick was also sprawled out with me, bawling about his elbow.

The spectators (even more sports lingo!) tell me that Brick and I crashed into each other while trying to stop Hootis.  Now not to be whiny, but all he got was a scraped elbow. Plus, he's 7, falling down on cement is part of his daily ritual.  I, on the other hand, am 38 and I have a sore finger, a sore elbow, a (really) sore shoulder and a large chunk of skin scraped off my knee!   I guess I now understand why those football players wear so much padding.  So when they crash into their 7 year old son and land on the patio they won't get hurt!

I find comfort in the fact that when I'm old and senile and telling the "young-uns" about the "good old days" they will chuckle compassionately when I start talking about "my old football injury."

We'll just keep it our little secret.