Falling For You

I think it’s my fault. On the weekend I made the inadvertent comment that LG was only family member not to wipe out on the ice. Murphy’s Law. Little Guy blames me.

In the past 3 weeks, experienced sunny days with blisteringly cold temperatures and windchills dipping into the -30sC, and days when the sun is hidden behind a veil of rain, freezing rain, or ice pellets. We’ve also had a fair number of all-out snow storms, complete with shifting snowdrifts, treacherous driving conditions, and heavy windrows. Last week, every local district closed the schools (except the district we are in), an unheard of thing in this city.

I have never been a fan of winter. Although I haven’t quite reached the usual saturation point in my “I hate winter” depression, as in other years, it’s definitely building. I’m getting tired of tripping over humongous boots, stepping on wet mittens, and cringing every time Hubby picks up his iPad. I know he’s going to check the weather and tell me what’s coming next, and I really just don’t want to know.

The wind, snow and cold haven’t been as constant as in former years, which has meant short burst of warm vs. frigid – a.k.a. thaw vs. freeze. Which means ice has been claiming many unsuspecting victims.

Big Guy works outdoors with trees and chainsaws, and therefore is at higher risk for wipeouts. This Mama sometimes worries that he’ll wipeout in front of a car or careen headfirst into a tree, and that’s without adding a chainsaw into the scenario. I haven’t really worried about the rest of us. But –

Two and a half weeks ago, Hubby popped down the street to clear out the gutter drain after heavy rain warnings. He came back soaked to the skin, and now he’s sporting a cast on his fractured thumb.

fonzie

It’s not as cool as Fonzie.

Almost two weeks ago, it was my turn. Hubby had parked next to a snowbank and it looked like I had room to get out. What I couldn’t see what that the ice was curved. I was pressed against the car, preparing to shuffle along, sacrificing my clean black coat, when Little Guy started crushing a foothold for me at the top of the knee-high bank. “If he can do it, I can do it,” I surmised. I planted my foot and grabbed his waiting hand to help hoist me up…I made it, but then I took one step forward. I landed on my back so fast, I didn’t even have time to yell. It was less graceful than this: