Me: "So, did you hear that a Winnipegger will be the flag bearer at the Olympics?"

Her: "Nope. Who?"

Me: "Clara Hughes. She has won medals at both the Summer and Winter Games."

Her: "For what?"

Me: "Cycling and speed skating."

Her: "Oh good. I was afraid you were going to say Curling."

Me: "Hey! I was a Curler you know! Came fourth in the Provincials one year." (Yep, I pull that little fact out whenever I can.... which, sadly, is nearly never.)



Her: "I know, that just proves it's not a sport."

Me:

Her: * smirk *

Me: "So you're calling me un-athletic?"

Her: "You say that all the time! I'm just agreeing with you."

I hate to admit it, but she's right... about me, that is. I am terrible at sports. If there were medals awarded for being the worst in athletics, I would indeed capture the Gold.

And then I would proceed to take a header off the podium.

Oh sure, I was in the Provincial playoffs, but unfortunately my most memorable Curling experience was when I went flying on the ice in a SPEC-TAC-U-LAR free-fall and landed flat on my butt.

In front of an audience, natch.

Luckily only my pride was hurt... I got up and continued to play, desperately trying to keep anyone from noticing the tears welling up in my eyes.

* Sigh *

I guess I will never have Olympic Dreams.

But I do rock the snazzy mitts.

I've been on a card-making roll recently. Now that I have a dedicated "crafting room", I can get creative whenever I feel like it. And for the past week or so, I have been churning out one or two cards each night. I love spending evenings in that room, especially since Christmas when I got a tres cool dock for my iPod. So now I can power on the tunes and Get Down while Getting Artistic.

I will admit I also, in a very quiet voice if not alone in the house, "Sing"* to said tunes. (That being said, if I am home alone, I crank the music up and belt it out with all I've got.)

And when I am not sitting in my big comfy chair, I've been known to accompany said "Singing" by "Dancing"**.

But a few nights back I got carried away by a particularly rockin' Fall Out Boy track and began "Dancing" and "Singing" while going from my desk to my paper stash across the room. When I was returning to my desk still head banging away, I was startled to see hubby standing at the door watching me.

Crap. I forgot he was home.

I stopped dead, the flush of humiliation burning up my cheeks.

"I um, just wanted to .... to ...." he stammered, realizing I was stunned to be caught in my very own Mosh Pit Of One.

".... to ... embarrass me?" I offerred.

"Um, no."

Then awkward silence.

Then even more awkward silence.

"Um, I can't remember WHAT I came to tell you" he admitted. Turning, he wandered slowly back down the hallway.

Gad.

So there you go. My "Singing" and "Dancing" are so incredibly awesome I left him speechless.

At least that's what I am trying desperately to convince myself.


* I am a terrible singer
** And my dancing is worse.