Sipping peppermint tea, another day, another coffee shop.
Waiting for our daughter’s plane to fly the friendly skies toward Chicago, the Windy City. It’s windy here, too, and the plane is delayed. I’m not moving one inch toward home until she’s above the clouds, smiling in the sun, winging her way back to NYC.
Am. So. Tired.
Have nothing to blog about, but, gosh darn, the typing fingers are moving again, searching for lower and upper case letters. They’re determined to tell a story, never mind that I want to snooze.
Guess what happened a couple of weeks ago? I was slipping and sliding on ice near the post office, walking oh-so-carefully, one foot down, the other up, careful now, don’t fall, don’t you dare fall, is it really winter again, and how many months til spring?
Years ago I glided around on icy surfaces like a young’un who fell easily, got up, wiped her snowy jeans, and skipped on across the glaring slippery ice without a care in the world.
Not any more. These hips have crashed too many times on ice, whoops, excuse me, we’re going down Mama.
But I didn’t think I looked too cautious, too ancient, too careful until two weeks ago when a white-bearded man smiled broadly at this tiptoeing Ice Mama and said (it still stings to type the words): ”Gosh, you look like an old lady!” and he smacked my upper arm exuberantly, almost resulting in the old lady’s imminent collapse.
Old lady! How dare he! He looked at least five years older than me–maybe ten–though, I admit, he was practically skipping on the ice, the evil man. What a mocking smile he had! How he flattened my self-confidence in one grinning sentence (OK, not really, I’m exaggerating again…I actually laughed out loud at his audacity) and did I KNOW him anyway?
It’s still not certain if he is someone with whom I’ve chatted on the phone, or perhaps engaged in conversation at a meeting, or maybe blabbed together ten years ago at the IGA. He certainly wasn’t a close friend, and he’d have some fast talking to do next time we meet, if I remember what he looks like, besides a male creature with white beard. An elderly male creature. ;)
Thanks to this fellow, though, my New Year’s resolution–newly articulated–is to re-learn to walk in a more sprightly manner on ice. OK, maybe not on the Houghton up-and-down hills, but on ordinary ice in front of the post office or on our woods road.
My daughter who has been visiting and she walks like a trooper on ice. Slide, slide, slide, knees high, feet bouncing down on the snow, not a fear in the world. OK, she is a little bit younger, but no fella will be accusing her of eldership on ice anytime soon. (She was an ice skater, so maybe she’ll never tiptoe hesitantly. Maybe she’ll never creep.)
So I’ve been Practicing.
Confidence, Ice Walker.
Assurance, Oh Lady of the Long Winters.
Keep those knees high. Keep those boots sure. You shall not slip, you shall not fall, you shall not bang your arse upon hard ice, you shall not break bones (heavens, no, not for a LONG time!)
So how do you all do on ice? Are you Suzy Confidence? Are you still a youthful prancer? Has your situation changed as you’ve celebrated more birthdays or do you still glide without a care in the world?
Has anyone called YOU an old lady in front of the post office recently??