A matter of time

It took eight months, but Ed's dream has come true. He got to see someone fall in the river. And that someone was me.

The End.


Kidding! Of course I have many, many explanations for what happened last night. Apparently people fall in the river fairly regularly, usually up near the bars and restaurants and after drinking a few. Ever since we learned this Ed has thought that seeing someone fall in the river might be the hilarious highlight of his year. I'm no ballerina, and he's asked me a few times if I've fallen in yet, scared he might miss the moment. I hadn't, and was offended that he'd assume I would. It's one thing to be so clumsy I break dishes, completely another to fall off a sidewalk.

So, to the point. In the beginning...we were sitting on the couch, we'd finished dinner, and even old episodes of Rome seemed bor-ING. So Ed and I stared at each other for a few minutes, then had the brilliant idea of going for a little walk. It was a (relatively) cool and breezy night, so we wandered through the neighborhood and thought we'd jump on over to La Tuna and see what was happening. And I say "jump" and I mean "jump," since La Tuna is half a mile and a full river from our house. There's a pretty path that goes behind some of the mansions to a set of concrete stepping stones that cross the river. STEPPING STONES, people.

As we approached the river I was surprised how deep it was, since South Texas has been in a huge drought and generally the river is really low in this spot anyways. There was a couple on the stones laughing at their dogs playing in the water, and the dogs jumped on and off the stones happily, getting them very wet. And slippery. So yeah, I slipped right off the middle stone into the river up to my waist. I splashed around in shock. The lady asked if I was part labrador. Ed held out a hand and boosted me back on the stones. I looked at him. He laughed and laughed and started walking towards the other side of the river. Wait! "Um, shouldn't I go home and change?"

Ed just looked at me.

"Uh, okay?" I tentatively followed him. His shoulders were shaking and he said, "C'mon, you're drying off."

"I am NOT! I'm dripping!!"

"Well, you're not getting any wetter, so that means you're drying. Water is evaporating off you as we speak." Ed hasn't looked this happy since our wedding day. I decide to give him his moment and stop complaining, even though my toes are turning into raisins in my squelching sneakers. He takes my hand and we cross the road.

La Tuna has only outdoor seating, so I put on my best dignified face and walk past the crowd to an empty table. I sit down and people resume their conversations. A friend joins us. We stay until I'm mostly dry and jump back across the river home.

It was only when I was getting ready for bed last night that I realized my underwear was bright pink, and my pants, as you can see in this camera phone picture, were very thin.