You get what you get and maybe not throw a fit

My nose is large and from my dad.  I did not get his wonderful straight teeth, I got my mom's mess and an orthodontist's dream.  As you grow up, you start sorting what comes from whom.  After a while, you think you have it all divided.  However, the aging process can reintroduce one to their gene pool.  Years ago, my dad was giving a public speech (talk if you're LDS).  He felt strongly about the subject and became teary.  All I remember was watching his nose create the biggest line of mucus I had ever seen.  He was so concentrated upon his message, that the use of a hanky did not occur.  I was transfixed. Would the snot drop?  If so, when and where?  Eventually, it became as exciting as waiting for the New Year ball to drop.  Yes, it did drop.  And instead of saying the AMEN to the preacher, I let out a snorty giggle because it splashed down.  I have a brother more than a decade older than myself.  I used to giggle and point when his nose had clear mucus hanging on the end of it.  Well, my daughter joins my earlier ranks.  I have the gift of a clear leaky nose almost any day.  I have become so desperate that I own a pair of gloves just for snot-nose when I run. Being concerned about having a nasty leaky nose, has only changed the location.  Instead of a public splash, I have used jeans, paper towels or subtle shirt cuffs.  Really who am I kidding?  Maybe a leak would be better than what I am doing.

For balance, my mom has her own thing.  She toots.  If you are reading this mom--you do.  My grandma did and so forth.  I have giggled and rolled my eyes.  That has stopped.  I now know karma will pay you back by giving you the thing which made me drolly snort.  I was doing yoga in a room of women.  I was feeling strong, ready to claim my life of balance.  Instead, as I leaned back in my warrior pose, stretching my arms, it slipped. Toot!  The source of it was not what I expected.  Indeed, after four vaginal births, I could not control it.  I furtively looked around. Nothing seemed amiss, so I continued.  IT continued.  I am grateful for the composure of those other women, because I was dying. Nope, I did not stay around for post-yoga chatting.  Karma seems to not only give back what gave me giggle-snorts, it made them the best genetic-laugh-right-in-my-face-gift ever.  So, thanks for that.  I can't wait to turn 50 and see what turns up next.