Whatever will I blog about today, I thought as I woke up from nap number 2 and moaned from a mixture of discomfort and pure boredom. I can't focus on work, nor do I have the USB drive that contains the projects I'd want to consider. I don't want to read my book and after trying two other stories, decided I don't want to read much of anything. I want, of course, to bounce on my trampoline or take a walk. But I can't. Because I'm injured.
Instead, I decided to practice an older version of my talk. Luckily, I had an audience for the event.
They said I was very good - that my speaking skills had improved considerably since we last played school when I was a bit younger. I used to lecture them on the alphabet or work on addition skills with flashcards my parents purchased. I would scold my students who refused to be attentive and focused, and praise the ones who tried particularly hard. I obviously loved Tenderheart most of all, so he always sat in the front. I didn't really consider it today, but subconsciously placed his brown body aside as I arranged everyone else, then nestled him into the carpet in the first row.
For those of you concerned over my mental state, I shall explain. I was petting Sprout while complaining of my physical malady when he sprinted down the hall upon hearing the phone ring.
"Hi, Mom." I answered, seeing her name on the outside of my new phone that has exquisite voice quality. I had to threaten to leave Verizon by canceling my contract before they offered me this phone for $50. They had wanted me to pay retail and I grew annoyed.
"It's Dad." The gruff voice answered me and I told him he should use his own phone. "Hey," he said, "do you remember those little Care Bears you had? The plastic ones?"
I scrunched my face in thought, could vaguely recall a cloud-car that held the multi-colored figures, and said I did remember them.
"Well, I was asking Little One what she wanted for her birthday and she said Care Bears."
"I know. Mom told me. I have two of them for her - a yellow one and a turquoise one. With stars and rainbows on their tummies."
"Well, I told her that she already had some of them and she said she wanted some to play with. In her dollhouse. So I stopped at the store today and asked for them - because I remembered playing with yours when you were little, but they said they didn't have them. Your mom looked online and couldn't find them either. But she thought she packed yours with the big Care Bears and I wondered if you'd seen them."
"They're in the attic." I reported. "I haven't opened that bag since I moved. But I could go look."
"No." He refused, sounding disappointed. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."
"I'll put on my stabilizing boot and go look. But there's no light up there so I need to go before it gets dark outside."
So I strapped my grotesque foot into my gigantic boot, velcroing everything together, then made my way up the narrow staircase that leads to the unfinished attic. It was hot - the area isn't climate controlled and I wrinkled my nose at the temperature up there. But I continued on, clinging to beams and trying to place my feet properly so I didn't fall down and hurt myself even more. I found the black garbage bag, then a smaller one next to it, that contained my precious collection of stuffed bears. I tossed them across the room, made my way carefully across the boards on the floor, then walked painstakingly down the stairs.
Breathing quickly with effort and a bit of delayed fear over falling, I flopped on my ottoman and began tossing softly colored bodies across the floor. When I reached the bottom, I called Dad back.
"I found them!" I exclaimed. "There's Cheer Bear and Birthday Bear and Funshine Bear." I recited from memory. "Grumpy Bear and Wish Bear. Share Bear and Loves-A-Lot Bear. Is that right? I never loved the pink bears all that much. Good Luck Bear and Tenderheart! I have nine of them." I placed them neatly on my coffee table and told him I'd bring them for Little One.
He was pleased and handed the phone to Mom when she reminded him he hadn't looked at the pictures of my ankle I'd sent. We talked for several minutes - she's in pain and discouraged and tired of dealing with her knees, poor thing. Then we hung up and I looked at the stuffed animals littering the floor. Then I smiled and decided to arrange them on one side of the room.
I remembered doing the same thing when I was little. Pushing them firmly into place so they'd sit up. Their darn heads are so big that they're prone to toppling over. I retrieved the two new bears I purchased for Little One's upcoming birthday so they could join the party. I allowed Sleepy Bear to rest during my presentation - it's good to realize some people will be bored. I put the Cousins around the schefflara because they were particularly stubborn about being upright. But I smiled and touched heart-shaped noses, simultaneously wishing I was little again and being glad that's all over.
They're currently making me quite happy. And anticipating Friend's expression when she sees them brings no small amount of joy either. I told Mom they're all facing the loveseat where Friend sits now that I have claimed the couch in the name of injured ankles.
"Remember what they'd do when they encountered someone sad or angry or mean?" I asked Mom after I called to tell her to look at Care Bear pictures I'd sent.
"The Care Bear Stare!" We said together.
Friend doesn't stand a chance.