Rainbow

Sadly this one might be inevitable. Rainbow is one of my many nickname that has popped up at different times and for different reasons. The first time that I recall, it was my dad's description of the trajectory of my throw from home plate to second base. And it was obviously not good. I grew a bit and finally had the strength to make the throw on a line, and the name went away. Later it described the many colors of the black (and blue and purple and green and even red) eye incurred the time I finally learned my lesson about holding my glove the wrong way. The preferred option then was "Lucky Strikes Kid," and of course, when the colors faded, so did both nick names. More recently, I suppose I brought it on myself when I dressed as Rainbow Brite for halloween. There were a few hold outs after the fact, but for the most part that time it only lasted for one night. This time, it's because of my clumsiness again. Friday morning, in a combined fit of trying to keep warm and maximize the productive time while my roommate is away, I put on socks and started down the stairs with a basket full of dirty clothes. I made it about half way down before the socks proved to be a bad idea and the clothes, basket, and I proceeded quite quickly into a heap at the bottom. I popped right up with an "I'm okay!" attitude, but immediately decided sitting in my laundry was better. I am in fact okay. Most of my muscles and joints were sore at one point or another on Friday or Saturday, but no permanent damage. The bruises however have brought back "Rainbow".