That’s what happens when you are galumphing along on a dark, snowy street and BOTH your boots hit an unexpected path of glare ice. Simultaneously. Yes. Ka-whonkbonk! In the 2010 version of this all too familiar scenario, it took a split second for me to fall flat on my back and bonk my head. I immediately scrambled to my feet there in the darkness, uttering a bad word on the way up. I’ll leave it to your imagination to conjure up which word. Was I okay? Weellll… I was ambulatory. I felt a little bit of pain in one hip but nothing seemed broken. I wasn’t dizzy. I didn’t see any stars. I could walk. I kept on trucking. I remain okay. My head is okay. My hip is a bit bruised and I seem to have bruised my hand a bit too. That wasn’t even noticeable until about six blocks later. (Note that this was nowhere near as bad an accident as the dooring that the beach urchin Elizilla experienced on the beautiful streets of San Francisco earlier this week. She is also okay, thank you god or whoever. (And probably doesn’t even want me mentioning this on my blahg.))

Usually when this kind of thing happens (and fortunately it doesn’t happen too often), I get to rant and rave and kvetch and stealth salt! What on earth does she mean by “stealth salt”, you are wondering? Well. What it means is that I go home and load the dry-wall bucket I keep my salt in (y’all know where I get my dry-wall buckets, don’tcha?) into an automotive vee-hickle and head down to the offending pane of sidewalk and salt the HECK out of it!!! I do not care if the homeowner is one of those “green” Planet Ann Arbor types who doesn’t want salt to get on their lawn, yada yada blah-de blah-de. I figure those people should consider themselves lucky that I am not a litigious type.

Alas, I fell down in the *street* today. It wasn’t even really slippery underfoot. The roads were covered with mushy old brownish colored snow. Snow mixed with dirt and leaves and dog poop and what have you. Not slippery. But as I was crossing the Linwood/Revena intersection, I hit an icy spot. I caught myself and then I slipped again and that time, I knew I was going down. Stealth salt? Naw. There’s no point in trying to salt a city street with my little salt bucket. Zeeeees eez Meeecheeegan and eet eez veeenter.

Dear Santa, Yaktrax!!! Yours, Kayak Woman.

Other than that, I hung out home alone at the Landfill this afternoon, trying to clean up and actually plan menus since there will be a whopping five people here for the holidays. Seasoned empty nesters here, don’tcha know. The GG managed to leave his cameras at the Lord of Linden’s last night and went to retrieve them and cadge a beer or whatever. We always manage to leave something at family parties. Last night, my fave red corkscrew and my beloved pyramid peg measure actually managed to make it home with us. Camera bag? Not so much. Really, I think this was just a big excuse for him to hit the Tractor Store out by Whitmore Lake.

And, oh yeah, sappiness oughtta be outlawed on blahgs! At least this one. “Whose whine, what whine, where the h*ll did I dine?” 😉

This entry was posted on Sunday, December 19th, 2010 at 6:24 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.