Middle-Aged Women Don't Bounce, Part Deux

Yours truly did something really silly yet again.  Yep, I tried bouncing one more time.  When will I learn?

Ice is Slippery.

But first a recap of the events leading up to my latest trip:

On Thursday afternoon, our frigid weather finally broke and we were at 10 degrees above zero.  The dogs hadn't had a decent walk outside in two days so they were more than willing to have me put their little winter coats on (yes, I'm one of THOSE people) and headed out the door with doggie glee.

I was ultra-careful on this walk as there are scattered ice patches here, there, and everywhere since our January thaw.  Once we hit the deep-freeze this past week, the ice seems to have acquired a highly polished texture, absolutely treacherous for unsuspecting pedestrians be they animal or human.  Two of our hens were walking down the path the other day and first one and then the other went down on their feathery behinds.  The dogs have a hard time with their balance, too.  So I was very cautious, only picking spots that I knew weren't icy.

All went well, the dogs and I made our lap around the Back Eight in fine form.  Teddy was sniffing around under every tree for whatever it is dogs find so fascinating and Pudding was running back and forth on the trail like she always does, sometimes way in the lead and then coming back to me at top speed only to turn around and take the lead again.  She puts on double the miles Teddy does.  I clipped a pedometer to her little coat last year and found that she takes six steps to one of mine.  Of course, her legs are only four inches long.  Mine are a little longer than that.

On the way back from our walk,  I found a pop bottle lying in the field that must have blown in from somewhere.  I stuffed it in my pocket, intending to put it in the recycling bin.   As we walked by the chicken coop, I decided to see if the Girls wanted to come out and enjoy the sun, too.  We had put a heat lamp in the coop during the frigid weather and it has kept the temperatures from dropping too low, but I knew the chickens missed their freedom.  I opened the door and the hens came tumbling outside, clucking happily.   As long as I was there, I gathered the two eggs that had just been freshly laid and proceeded to the house to let the dogs in. 

I had the two eggs in my right hand and had to get the house keys out of my pocket with my left hand.   That's when I remembered I had the pop bottle in my pocket.  The recycling bin was right outside the garage door, so I got the keys and the bottle out at the same time and proceeded to toss the pop bottle in when WHOOOPS.....my feet went right out from under me.  A small patch of ice was my undoing.  I'd let my guard down.

I know it's a tired cliche, but It All Happened So Fast.  Unlike the hens with their feathery behinds, I didn't land as softly.  I wish the fall was on video, because it was a doozy.  Somehow I managed to hit my left knee, right elbow and right hip all on the stone pathway at the same time.  One second I'm standing on my two feet, trying to do my patriotic duty by recycling a recyclable and the next minute I'm lying on my driveway staring up at the sky with two worried dogs milling around me.  Groan.

Remember when I bought Mom that Freedom Alert monitor to wear around her neck?  Well, it appears I'll have to buy one for me, too.  I'll have to call my 92 year old mom to come rescue ME.  I apparently cannot be trusted to remain upright throughout an entire winter. 

 Ten years ago I broke my right wrist by slipping on the last remaining patch of ice in the state of Wisconsin in the spring of the year and ever since then, I've had a healthy respect for the stuff.  Ok, Fear  is the operative word. 

After lying there awhile, I toyed with the idea of getting up.  I didn't think anything was broken because nothing hurt as bad as my wrist had back in the day.  My hip hurt the worst, oh, that was really aching.  What the heck had I landed on?  (Besides a big hunk of limestone.) 

Just as I was gingerly hoisting myself up, testing if my appendages were all going to function normally, my cell phone rang.  It was my friend Ann, just calling to chat before she went to work. 

"Hi, how's your day going?" she asked.

"Oh, ok, I guess, I just fell down and now I'm getting back up," I said.  "Ouch."

Poor Ann, she knows me so well.  "OH, no!  Not again!  Are you ok?"

"I guess so," I muttered, moaning.  "I have to see if I can walk yet.  My hip is really hurting.  I'm just going to let the dogs in the house first....oh, wait....where are my keys?"

Apparently, when I slipped, I launched everything I'd had in my hands.  I found one of the smashed eggs about ten feet from the accident site.  Two of the hens were walking around the egg, looking disgusted.  They go through all that work, and I just throw their eggs around.  Surprisingly, the stupid pop bottle had made it into the recycling bin, but the keys were nowhere to be found.

 I hobbled around in circles, whining to Ann, and almost gave up when I finally spotted my keychain about thirty feet away behind one of the urns where they'd bounced off the garage door.   The other egg simply disappeared.  It's probably still in orbit, waiting for me to walk out of the house.  Splat.

 My hip was simply throbbing, and I realized something in my pocket had taken the brunt of my fall.

Oh, no......not............my............

PEDOMETER!!!

Yes, my pedometer.  Oh, what a sad day for us both.  I've had the thing since 2008 and it has faithfully recorded all my steps all these years.  It's one of those cool ones that allows me to upload data to my computer and keep records of all that walk, walk, walking with Leslie and on my own.  This poor unit is with me from the time I get up til the time I go to bed, keeping me honest about how much I really walked.  And how did I repay the favor?  By squishing it to death.  Awwwwww.

When the guys came home from work, Joel took the pedometer apart to see how badly it was wrecked.  Besides destroying the case and the LCD display, I even bent the battery inside the case.......sheesh, I REALLY need to lose more weight.   We hoped to be able to download the data stored on it, but alas, the entire unit was toast.  I only lost ten days of information, so no big deal, but it was like losing a friend, in a way.  Luckily, I had bought a new one just like it earlier this year, anticipating the old one would eventually quit working, so I'm back in business again with my step counting.  But I sure do feel bad about the old one.

I'm stiff and  sporting bruises in places best left unspoken of, but Leslie and I kept our date this morning, so I'm none the worse for wear.   When I broke my wrist, the doctor said I had really good bone density which meant my coordination is to blame, because when I fall, I don't mess around.  I Really Fall.  Hard.  Crash, bash and smash hard. 

I am going to dig around in the closet for the spring-things I clamp on my shoes to prevent slipping on ice.  I don't know why I didn't think about those things earlier this year.  Mom reminded me I own some; I gave her a pair a few years ago and she wears them all winter.   She said she'd lend me hers.....I said, "No, Mom, you keep yours.  But I may be asking to borrow your personal alarm button."

I have officially proven once and for all that this middle-aged woman does not bounce. 

Not even a little.

Let's hope this puts an end to my experiments.  

Wish my new pedometer luck.