Graceful Me (Not)

 I wasn't planning on publicly sharing this story (because it's embarrassing!), but a friend convinced me, in between her peals of laughter, to share it nevertheless.

  Just know that I am not a very graceful person. 'Nor am I very bright most of the time. In short, I'm a klutz who is quite good at making a fool of herself.

 My afternoon was going swimmingly (that's such a fun word. I adore it.). It was a bright fall day, I had just finished a good morning's work in the barn, and I was ready for lunch. Everything was grand. I was sporting an unusual mishmash of clothes, but didn't really care then and there since I was just doing barn work and no one was around. On my head was a soft pink colored cap that said "John Deere" across the front, on my feet were bright purple Bogs boots that I got last week (Bogs sent them to me for free since my old pair was cracking!! Woohoo!), and I was of course sporting my absolute favorite sweater that I own: the ugliest lime green, fleece pullover that you ever done did see. It used to be a shocking neon color, but I've had it for so many years that it's finally faded to an awful lime. I love this sweater way too much to ever give it up. Even if it is an eyesore.

 So yeah, I looked like quite the oddball as I walked back up to the house for lunch. But hey, there was no one around right? Knock on wood, my dears. Knock on wood. I'd only gotten halfway to the house when I heard a familiar rumbling sound that always makes me smile: A tractor was coming my way. And it was big. I twisted around and saw to my delight that it was the neighbor down the road, driving his John Deere 9630 (remember this baby? I've got such a horrible crush on it...). Oh this was my lucky day!! The 9630 was driving right past me. I forgot all about my pink hat, purple boots, green sweater, and the fact that I looked like a wreck. All that mattered at this moment was that a beautiful hunk of metal was going by, and it was like being at my very own private parade. I'm pretty sure I heard angels singing, too.

 The tractor was going at the same pace that I was walking, so I was all too happy to just let my feet walk in the direction of the house while I gazed longingly at the tractor. And yes, I will admit that I had a dorky smile plastered on my face as I looked up and down at the giant wheels and green paint.

 Then things got bad.

 There I am, walking along, looking like an idiot in every sense, and trying to not squeal out loud at this tractor, when I glance at the cab. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no!!! Folks, it wasn't the elderly neighbor who's in his 90's driving that machine. It was his grandson who's MY age. We're talking early twenties, blond crew cut, muscle to spare. You know, the type that catches the eye of most girls? Yeah, that kind. We were far enough from each other that you most likely couldn't tell exactly where a person's eyes were looking, so to him it probably looked like I was staring at him, and smiling like someone who should be in an asylum. Okay, I swear I was not checking him out. Let me just state this here. Cross my heart and hope to die. I check out tractors and trucks; not guys. He just had to be in there, didn't he!?!? Of all people, why did it have to be the neighbor's grandson in that cab!? He had the strangest expression on his face when I looked at him. Like he was trying to figure out why this girl dressed in clownish colors was staring, smiling, and walking in a crooked line towards her house. Apparently I wasn't the only one staring.

 I wanted to die. To be swallowed up by the earth and never be seen again. This was embarrassing. No, this was humiliating. I'll never be able to go on a walk up the road again for fear that I'll see him. Oh it was bad...

 At this horrifying realization of who the driver was, I did the most logical thing there was to do: Panic. Yeah, I'm great at being logical. I should get a degree for my logic; or a medal or something... 'Cause I'm obviously top dog in this circle. Okay, whatever.

 I had just reached the front porch by the time it completely sank in that it was raining on my parade, so to say, so without further ado I whipped myself around and decided to bolt towards the front door. I probably would have made it too, had the support beam to the porch roof not been in my way.

 Yes, dear reader, yours truly smacked herself into a beam. And the grandson saw me do it. It was like something from a cartoon; right when I thought I couldn't embarrass myself any further, I go and walk into a big wooden beam.

 There was no way to play this cool. I had just destroyed every shred of dignity I owned because of a tractor. I was officially mortified. Why couldn't he have looked the other way!? Why couldn't a cougar have suddenly darted into the road?? Or a herd of flying blue monkeys have gone past his windshield?? Anything to have made him glance away and not see me walk into a post. But no. He saw it. All of it. And I wanted to die. My one comfort is that I'm leaving the state in thirty six days and then I won't have to worry about bumping into him again for awhile. And maybe he'll have forgotten the whole thing by the time I come back. We live in hope, anyway.

So there you have it folks. I'm ruined. It's a gorgeous tractor though, I will still cling to that. But if I have a "most embarrassing moment", this surely is it.

 It just had to be the grandson in there, didn't it??