Did I forget to mention that my daughter has 2 bruised bones in her foot and Lord knows what else is going on in there.  Simple twist coming down on it in basketball practice and this is what she gets.  I should not be surprised because by the time I was her age, I had quite possibly broken over a dozen bones. She is now wearing a hug black boot up to her knee.  We call her ‘the boot”.

Oddly and somewhat coincidentally, in college, my nickname was ‘the booter”.  Time to share:
In my infinite wisdom, I decided to listen to my roommates and play women’s rugby.  Yes, rugby. (and I just told you how many bones I had broken). “we’ll meet guys”, they said; “it’ll be fun”, they said; “it will hurt like hell when an ROTC woman head butts you in the ribs”…oh wait, they did not say that.  Anyway, I think the main motive was to drink free beer.  I am a lightweight drinker, hence the name “booter”.  I puked if I drank too much, meaning just a few beers. Mix that with an episode on crutches and I was a mess.

In addition, it is an unwritten rugby law that you need to have choir practice to learn to sing those filthy songs.  If you did not say the words, you had to ‘shoot the boot’, which meant drink beer from one of the guys’ workboots. (It was fat Jamie’s) Ugh. I could not do it, so I mouthed the curse words! Ha.

Now here I sit at almost 50 and in my mind reminiscing those days;and I am glad I had them, but do not long for them.

I am off to get one of my invalids something, puff up a pillow, or distribute a kiss or two.  All in a day’s work.  I am glad LAX season is over, I don’t think I can manage one more injury here.