Warm winter weather makes taking care of my driveway easier.
Well, it's easy enough anyway, because my neighbor comes across the street with a snow blower if there's a bunch of snow, but the warm weather makes scraping off any snow slosh easier, so I can do that myself.
Which I did. It was Valentine's Day, and I had a date to take my husband out for dinner. I finished scraping the driveway, then went inside to get ready. The van was parked in the street, so I grabbed his wheelchair from the house and started to the van.
With the first step, I knew I was in trouble. The snow scum had already greased over. Not frozen, but slippery as wet ice would be, and I hadn't thought to think about it. My mind flashed back to the time I was fairly athletic, and I tried to run it out. OK, not really a run, but not a walk either. I did pretty well till about 10 feet from the street when the wheelchair hit a bump and started to fly with me attached to the handles.
The chair - with me attached to the handles - landed in the street. The chair on its side, me face down with an expletive deleted shoved back down my throat.
I moved my foot. Wiggled my knees. Took a deep breath and raised my head. Nobody around, thank heaven. Some shows are better left unseen. When finally I pushed myself off the street, my left thumb was bleeding, but that's all. To add insult to injury, I didn't have any bruises to make the ache a reality.
A few days later, however, I looked in the mirror, checking if the nose swelling had gone down, and noticed two little bruises where the nose pads of my glasses pushed into my face. A bruise tried to spread on my right hand, but ran out of steam. The ache outlasted the evidence.
Which made all my whining and moaning very annoying to former co-worker, Bill Shea, when we went on a mission that Saturday. His niece, Anna, sent him a paper doll about 10 inches tall - he called her Dolly-from Pennsylvania. Anna wanted him to show Dolly around the area and take pictures.
He didn't need me in town, or to make a snowman for Dolly at Kennedy Park. No, he just needed me to find him farm animals.
No one was home at Steve and Nancy Schmalenberger's home, but their cattle stood patiently in the pen while Bill posed with Dolly on the other side of the fence. At Tommy Willwerth's place, I was the go-between for giving a baby lamb to Bill. I just couldn't pass it along, so he had to shoot me with Dolly and the lamb. Holding that cute little thing made my heart happy my dad raised sheep. Then we stopped at Fred Simonson's place south of Vincent so Dolly could ride his mare, Satin.
I'm so glad Dolly came to town.
So long friends, until the next time when we're together.
Sandy Mickelson is retired as lifestyle editor of The Messenger. She may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.