The Irony

I’ve decided the world is a highly ironic place.

At least my world is a highly ironic place.

In my walking form, I was one of those tall lanky ladies that you see and instantly assume plays sports. Yet, if you got to know me you would realize I was just 6 feet of awkward with no idea where in the world one of my limbs ended and the next one started. Sure, I played basketball in middle school but I spent most of my court time literally on the floor–I’ve always been pretty scrappy (I think that has something to do with my middle child syndrome). I also somehow managed to miss getting the “I’m-really-good-at-volleyball” gene that I swear every female (but me) gets. My role in volleyball games in gym class was like a strange form of a volleyball lightning rod. I’m pretty sure no matter where I was, I’d get smacked in the head by that stupid ball. In summary: Walking Sam = not sporty.

That seems to understate things, walking Sam = not sporty at all.
I still don’t think that’s quite right. Walking Sam = less than not sporty at all.

Yea, I think that’s about as good as it’s gonna get but I hope you get my point. Balls, bats, athletics are basically not my cup of tea. I mean I got into running in college as a stress reliever from all of my nerd classes and the fact there were not balls or bats required (or even found anywhere in the vicinity). I’m a bit on the anti-getting-hit-in-the-head-with-stuff bandwagon, I think middle school gym class traumatized me…

Yet here I sit, quote unquote disabled, having returned from my second year at a National Wheelchair Sports Camp. I wrote about my first year here, so if you want to “flashback friday” or whatever the cool kids are calling it, check the link out!

Excuse me for a second while I muse at the irony of the above situation.

Wheelchair. Handicapped. Disabled. National Sports Camp.
Which of these is not like the other?

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Dream a Little Dream

So I’ve come off of my “I’m-a-princess-Mom-so-there” high which is probably a good thing–for everyone. I’m speaking to some high school students this week which is exciting and I already have a collection of other “events” in the works which is pretty cool. Gotta keep myself busy right? So I’ve been trying to figure out where I wanted to keep my crown when I wasn’t wearing it (Dad told me if I wore it to bed the tiara fairy might come and steal it) I think I found the perfect place on my dresser…


That little dude is a stuffed microbe. More specifically, he’s E coli:D I got him from some friends and he makes my life. I also think he looks pretty good in a crown. Man, am I strange, how many Miss Wheelchair’s can say they keep their crown on top of their stuffed microbe…

You know what else is strange? Dreams. Dreams are strange things, both the sleep related dreams and the what-in-the-world-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life dreams.  This post is about both kinds. Continue reading