When I was a kid my nickname was Lucy because I looked like Lucy from Charlie Brown and because I was bossy.  I had two younger brothers and I was boss.  Well for a while anyhow until they got bigger than me. Then it was over

In the last few years my husband started calling me Lucy but for another reason.  Sometimes I do really dumb stuff and don't know why.  I mean stuff just happens to me, reminiscent of "I Love Lucy."  And I'll admit sometimes (almost all the time) I'm to blame 100%. 

I'm surprised it didn't make the 6 o'clock news the way my husband came running out of the house.

So......I was coming home with the golf cart after a bright sunny afternoon of grocery shopping.  The next door neighbor's yard was undergoing some landscaping and as I came down the street headed towards home I noticed they were still working in the hot sun next door. 

They looked up and waved as I reached for the garage door opener attached to my cart.  I waved back and then crashed right into the "not quite opened door"  I was looking at them and the nicely landscaped yard while driving forward into the garage.  Or so I thought.  Well almost.  Not into the garage but into the garage door. 

When I say "crashed" I mean crash like in a bomb exploding.  It was quite loud and explosive.  I was told later there were two big booms.  I just sat in my  now stopped golf cart, in shock and said "oh crap"  as I listened to the now very squeaky and creaky garage door finish it's upward motion. 

It didn't take two seconds to hear the front door open and my husband come running out. 

Geesh you'd think he needs a walker to get up from the couch when the phone rings.  I don't know how many times he never makes it to the ringing phone in time, but boy can he sure move fast when he wants to. 

So he comes out barefoot and in shorts and asks, "what did you do?" 

"um, I kind of hit the garage door when it was going up.  It went up awfully slow." 

"You've got to be kidding me.  Give me your keys. I can't believe you hit the garage door with a golf cart." 

See I've hit the garage door before  (but that was the past) but not with a golf cart and not this brand new door.  I actually lost a nice car mirror once.  Didn't use it much anyway. 

So he tells me to continue to go forward into the garage while he checked the door.  Well it wouldn't go all the way down because of the damage and there was a huge dent  and bent in the frame where I made impact.   To add insult to injury he starts banging away at the metal frame from inside the garage trying to get it banged back to some sort of original shape.

With every bang I jumped.  It was quite loud.  And it just so happened this unusually quiet street had quite a few neighbors working outside in their yards at the moment.  Geeesh!  Bad timing.   How embarrasing!  Why is everybody home on such a nice day? 

So after he was able to get it back into some sort of decent shape he tells me he's going to call the kids and tell them what I did.  Later on he sent me a news flash via email sort of like a front page announcment making it seem like I was going to be the next day's front page news. 

You can now hardly tell the damage.  Well when it's down you really can't tell, but as it's going up there's the metal edging at the bottom that you can see isn't quite right as it has a slight bent to it. 

Fits my personality just fine.