You know, there are times in your life that somehow, someway, you know that it’s going to be a big step. An event that will be a meridian in your life. An event that says, “I’m grown up.” or “I’ve accomplished something big” or “I’m important because….”. It puts a little hitch in our step and builds our positive self-image. We all have had them like starting elementary school, first ball game, first concert. It’s usually a “first” of some sort.
Oh, how I wish that this one of those events but instead it is quite the opposite. It is an event that that says “I’m a klutz.” or “That’s why they call me the walking wound.” or “Oh, no I’m not one bit graceful. I’m more of a… rampaging bull.” It’s an event that if we are fortunate enough to have a sense of humor about ourselves, we can chuckle about it in the days and months to come. It’s not a first at all. It’s just one of those slightly embarrassing moments that we would rather forget but maybe unknowingly understanding that it is these events that build character. Alright enough of the build up.
Big Scott wanted to going for a walk in the snow. The last time it snowed I was sick. I’m still sick with whatever it was from that snow. That’s not the point. I’m digressing. The other times it has snowed either one or the other was working or somehow not at home. We try every year to take a little walk in the snow.
I love snow. I love how it covers the ground. It shows secrets that other weather can’t. Oh sure, everyone loves the sunshine. How it warms and generally feels good. You can spend hours in the sunshine but it only leaves a mark if you have overindulged. The rain can be calm and cooling or it can be loud and angry. The rain is mood swingy and is rumored to be female but that has not be confirmed or denied. Snopes. com hasn’t said a thing Leading the rest of us to believe that it is true. It must be a truosity. Hey, I’m mood swingy. I know it. I’m not too proud to admit it. Sure, you can take a little walk in the rain. Your clothes and shoes can end up a little moist but the rain holds secrets. Holding secrets never made any friends. The snow covered streets, sidewalks, driveways, and yards tells the secret of who, what, and where and sometimes the answer to when but there I go again digressing.
We don’t go very far usually around the block or two. We take in the beauty of the falling snow. I enjoy how we can in a matter of moments grow “old” together. We carefully and gingerly walking our little route.
Yesterday, after supper, Big Scott made the suggestion to go for a little walk. It was just a few minutes after six. There may have been a half inch of snow on the ground. It was beautiful. It was a picture out of a storybook if you are reading or looking at pictures of Suburbia America. I was hesitant. The snow was so pretty. It wasn’t cold. It was 34 degrees. So I grabbed my coat and gloves and headed out the door with Big Scott. We started our route.
I love to take little walks with Big Scott. It seems that this is one of the few times that “talking” really happens. Oh sure, we have the “Good Morning” talk or the “How was your day” talk but general mindless ramblings and babbles don’t usually happen on a daily basis. His eyes light up when he tells of something that he is excited about. My eyes light up too when I discuss something that excites me. Sometimes, however, this is the time when we discuss our concerns about work or church leadership. Oh man, did I digress again?
Any who….Three houses from us is the “top” of the hill. We call it a hill. It may not be a hill in other parts of the country. My parents live on a sandpit in the middle of the state. There are houses built around said sandpit. My parents call it a lake. Big Scott calls it a pond. It just two different points of view. A couple of different sets of windows being peered through. Opinions do vary.
The descent downward isn’t bad on dry concrete. It is a steep slope. It is a slope that many cars and trucks have slid in a downward motion. Although not all of the cars and trucks may have wanted to slide downward. We started down the hill. We were commenting on how some of our neighbors haven’t taken their Christmas lights down. There are still a couple whose lights still shine brightly. This is where Jill starts to slips and slide. Big Scott tries to catch me but in the process starts to slide himself. Big Scott didn’t take one for the team. I fall to the ground. Oh, I can be the giggly sort. I laugh about how I’m such a moron. It’s alright. I’m not too proud.
I have an epiphany. It is 34 degrees. Okay kids, what did we learn in high school physical science? Water is most dense at 34 degrees. What did we learn in Driver’s Ed? Or what should we have learned instead of sleeping through countless films in Driver’s Ed? The roads are most slick when it is just above freezing. Did I digress again? I’ll try not to do it again. I promise. Girl Scout Honor.
Big Scott can be quite the gentleman. He holds my hand as we continue downward. I complain that my jeans are now wet and I’m a big idiot. I notice a white Neon coming up the street . I start to slide into a driveway. I fall again with Big Scott standing and still holding my hand. Great. Super.
I decide that since the concrete is slippery that maybe I should be walking on the “grass”. Oh sure, the neighborhood will see my size 12’s on the boulevards but I’m really not into falling again. That’s the problem with panic management. It just doesn’t work. Instead of identifying the problem, we make patches to problems. Patches don’t work. Patches make your problems worse and make your thinking process dysfunctional. That’s a problem. Walking on the boulevards are fine until you have to walk to the concrete to get across the next driveway. This plan is clearly not working but we are almost to the bottom of the hill. It should be pretty much flat even surface the rest of the way.
Big Scott says the source of the problem is that I don’t always pick up my feet. I don’t know if that is the problem but I don’t always pick up my feet. I usually take 5 steps the drag a step and continue the pattern. That’s just the way I walk. Big Scott turns around and shows me my footsteps. Then he says that the problem is my choice of shoes. I didn’t take my rubber ducky boots. I didn’t even put on my Nike’s. I slipped into some shoes with a black rubber sole but not a pair that had much grip. I put on the shoes that were easy to get in and out of. I admit it. I’m not saying that it isn’t my fault. It’s not that I’m not accepting the responsibility of some strategically questionable moves. As I’m saying all of this I slide around the corner on our final leg home. Big Scott can’t believe that his wife is such a klutz. How did I ever survive childhood with sharp metal edges and lead paint? We, finally, made it home.
I slept with an ice pack on my right knee. I have a swollen knee and my ankle isn’t exactly small. I’m a tad sore, making today’s Double Dare Physical Challenge (Some of you may remember the game show Double Dare on Nick) getting my big butt up off the couch.
I’m not exactly looking forward to walking in downtown Omaha tomorrow. I find it absolutely amazing that the public library I walk by next to never clears the walkway on one side of the building ( the side I walk) and the businesses across the street are clear, clean and perfect. Amazing, isn’t. I know, I promised not to digress again but I haven’t been a girl scout in nearly 30 years.

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