Okay, let me set the scene for you. Mom, Tammy, Taylor, Bailey and I are in the minivan. We've just picked up Taylor from school. I happen to be sitting in the passenger side, middle row, with the automatic (and VERY slow moving) side door.
It's important to remember that I'm still suppose to be home in bed convalescing from my recent illness and surgery. However, I've gotten a little touch of cabin fever and I decided to join the family on a trip to the local public library.
We pull up to a stop light that NORMALLY takes forever to turn green. Mom happens to casually look over at the corner lot and she mentions that the fresh snow looks so pristine. It's a large lot that is home to a business and no one has trampled through the beautiful snow. Mom, aka Nana Kurz, makes the mistake of mentioning that it looks like a beautiful place for a snow angel. Can you see where this is headed?
I sit there for a moment like a deer caught in the headlights. And then I jump into action. First, I have to tell Tammy to put the minivan in park because the VERY slow automatic door will not open until she does for safety reasons. I press the button and once the door is open I spring out of the minivan with the speed of an arthritic 90 year old man and stumble out into the corner lot.
Now, for some reason, the traffic light senses my movement and decides that this is the first day in it's history that it's cycle is going to be something other than excruciatingly long. However, because I am stumbling forward with my back to the light I have no idea that I have been so viciously betrayed by the color RED.
After about three very brief but exhausting strides I turn and fall backwards into the snow. This might be a good time to tell you that I am just wearing jeans and a sweatshirt along with a pair of tennis shoes; certainly not appropriate attire for me to roll around like a weeble wobble in the snow.
As soon as the back of my head hits the snow, I hear the horn sounding. No, it's not my family in the minivan. It's from the impatient woman behind us who cannot appreciate the significance of this moment; she must have forgotten that every time a fat man runs an angel gets it's wings.
I hastily throw my arms and legs into action. Now up until this moment my mother (who had a heart attack just under a month ago) is freaking out because her eldest son has sprung from the van like a diseased deer and run off into a snow covered lot. She thinks I have stumbled, passed out, and fallen in the snow and am in need of first aid - until she sees my arms and legs frantically waving around as if I am trying to fly.
At this point I realize the horn is not applause - it is screaming the disapproval of the line of traffic behind us. The only problem is that I have used every ounce of my minimal strength just getting out of the van and onto the ground. Now I have to get back up and, unfortunately, there is never a fork lift around when you need it. I briefly think to call out, "I've fallen and I can't get up" but I realize Life Alert probably doesn't have the tow truck needed to get me up off the ground.
I use my cat-like reflexes (if the cat has three legs, one ear, and is blind) to 'jump' up off the ground and stumble the ten feet back to the van. Like a bank robber returning to the get-away car, I shout to the wheel man, "Just GO!" and we quickly pull away as the automatic van door beeps and closes.
It was a pretty sweet caper! It's a moment that will go down in history! And the best part is that I didn't leave my wallet or cell phone behind...
It's important to remember that I'm still suppose to be home in bed convalescing from my recent illness and surgery. However, I've gotten a little touch of cabin fever and I decided to join the family on a trip to the local public library.
We pull up to a stop light that NORMALLY takes forever to turn green. Mom happens to casually look over at the corner lot and she mentions that the fresh snow looks so pristine. It's a large lot that is home to a business and no one has trampled through the beautiful snow. Mom, aka Nana Kurz, makes the mistake of mentioning that it looks like a beautiful place for a snow angel. Can you see where this is headed?
I sit there for a moment like a deer caught in the headlights. And then I jump into action. First, I have to tell Tammy to put the minivan in park because the VERY slow automatic door will not open until she does for safety reasons. I press the button and once the door is open I spring out of the minivan with the speed of an arthritic 90 year old man and stumble out into the corner lot.
Now, for some reason, the traffic light senses my movement and decides that this is the first day in it's history that it's cycle is going to be something other than excruciatingly long. However, because I am stumbling forward with my back to the light I have no idea that I have been so viciously betrayed by the color RED.
After about three very brief but exhausting strides I turn and fall backwards into the snow. This might be a good time to tell you that I am just wearing jeans and a sweatshirt along with a pair of tennis shoes; certainly not appropriate attire for me to roll around like a weeble wobble in the snow.
As soon as the back of my head hits the snow, I hear the horn sounding. No, it's not my family in the minivan. It's from the impatient woman behind us who cannot appreciate the significance of this moment; she must have forgotten that every time a fat man runs an angel gets it's wings.
I hastily throw my arms and legs into action. Now up until this moment my mother (who had a heart attack just under a month ago) is freaking out because her eldest son has sprung from the van like a diseased deer and run off into a snow covered lot. She thinks I have stumbled, passed out, and fallen in the snow and am in need of first aid - until she sees my arms and legs frantically waving around as if I am trying to fly.
At this point I realize the horn is not applause - it is screaming the disapproval of the line of traffic behind us. The only problem is that I have used every ounce of my minimal strength just getting out of the van and onto the ground. Now I have to get back up and, unfortunately, there is never a fork lift around when you need it. I briefly think to call out, "I've fallen and I can't get up" but I realize Life Alert probably doesn't have the tow truck needed to get me up off the ground.
I use my cat-like reflexes (if the cat has three legs, one ear, and is blind) to 'jump' up off the ground and stumble the ten feet back to the van. Like a bank robber returning to the get-away car, I shout to the wheel man, "Just GO!" and we quickly pull away as the automatic van door beeps and closes.
It was a pretty sweet caper! It's a moment that will go down in history! And the best part is that I didn't leave my wallet or cell phone behind...
