Chomp

Major ice storm leaves major ice: I bit it walking in today. Thought I had it, kicked one leg this way, threw my rear end out that way, stabilized, then clunk. Not even a good, solid fall with the feet in the air, arm extending backwards. Sort of a half bend-over, catching myself on the jagged ice with my hands, immediately frozen from their contact.

Three minutes of careful snow stepping later, pull out my mitts for a glance over and man I should have worn gloves for all kinds of reasons. One reason: raspberry syrup between the digits. Happy Birthday. Little late, but the thought that counts, right?

Hustle up to nearest bathroom, rinky-dink band-aid and aren't-I-a-tough-guy, sweat from the rest of the walk pasting my shirt to my back, a you-deserve-it cup of coffee. I'll give you a fair trade--that monster truck that ripped past as I gave a very personal hello to the sidewalk stopping to ask if I'd like to make the rest of my journey in the front seat. Why should he get a free show?

I didn't.