I was walking down the street with Oliver today, listening to his constant stream of chatter, on the way back from the nearby stationary and gift store where we were looking for valentines. In the same instant that I inwardly noticed how sore my feet felt, even though I was wearing The Clogs, I tripped on some minuscule bit of sidewalk that jutted up, and I went down spectacularly, landing on my hands and knees. I almost NEVER fall, so I'm going to add it to the list of new experiences due to aging. After showing much compassion and helping me up, Oliver demonstrated what I looked like as I fell, and it wasn't pretty, to say the least. What is it about falling that is so damn ridiculous that it brings tears to one's eyes? Oliver also told me that now you know how much it hurts when I fall, Mom, and I said, No, it probably hurts a whole lot more because I'm big and old, Oliver, and he nodded and agreed to carry my purse home as I hobbled the rest of the way.