6:32 p.m.–Take Beef out for first walk of the day. After the ice storm blanketed North Iowa with 1/4 inch of ice, we all hunkered down in the apartment all day long, even skipping Beef’s routine morning walk. However, even though Mother Nature was being a jerk, Beef was still experiencing the inevitable call of nature toward the end of the day.
6:35 p.m. Beef, A and myself are all bundled up to combat the weather. What we did not anticipate was how completely immobilized we were by the solid coating of ice on EVERYTHING. Think you can walk on the sidewalk? Good luck. Brace yourself against a building to help you penguin-scootch down the street? NOPE. Immediately consider turning back and hanging Beef’s back end out of the window for a while instead. GOOD IDEA.
6:40 p.m. Mr. A has made it to the corner, and is feeling pretty confident. He takes advantage of yelling “MUSH” and having the 12-pound Beef dog pull him across the street.
6:45 p.m. I trail several yards behind both beasts, sliding my feet across the sidewalk. Curse creatively about Jack Frost.
6:50 p.m. We giddily reach the city park. Beef, blessed with an absurdly low center of gravity, frolics across the ice. Both A and I become inspired by Beef, and consider dwelling in the wonder of winter, and embracing some child-like enthusiasm. We chuckle as we watch her scamper and gaze adoringly at each other. I consider writing a blog post about being “in the moment” and momentarily daydream about becoming one of those bloggers who appears to be stable, and provides helpful life advice.
6:51 p.m. Over-confident husband slips and lands flat on his back. Groans for a while. Daydream about being a “stable, life-coachy blogger” evaporates as I frantically quiz A about DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM WHAT IS MY MIDDLE NAME?!?! Husband seems to find solace in lying alone on the icy sidewalk, as I am marooned on the grass island, shouting.
6:55 p.m. We leave the stability of the grass and strategize a new route to make it home. Decide to cut through a residential area with more grass, which prompts A to routinely shout “GET ON THE GRASS,” and I reply, “WALKING IS HARD.”
7 p.m. Have to leave the safety of the route A has forged to dispose of Beef’s contribution. I throw the poo-bag through the air toward the Dumpster. Determining that my shot-put attempt is close enough, I turn around to join my family.
7:01 p.m. It is now my turn to fall flat on my back. Unlike my thoughtful and calm husband, who did not try to brace himself and fell rather gracefully, I flail like a cartoon character, squeal, and twist my arm on the way down. Decide that lying in the alley, waiting for the ice to melt, would be a better option than striking out again.
7:02 p.m. Husband reminds me that “getting back up may be more difficult than walking,” (SO HELPFUL) but we all make it back to the street and to our corner, which may be the most severe ice coating of anything we had yet experienced. OF COURSE.
7:03 p.m. Make several attempts to let go of the street lamp and make it to our front door. Police officer slows down and watches me struggle … then keeps driving. After some more colorful language, I CRAWL ON MY HANDS AND KNEES to the entrance to our apartment. A and Beef, however, coolly makes it to the door, upright.
There appears to be few lingering side effects from this harrowing journey. I chalk this up to our grace under difficult circumstances. Or, the chocolate cream pie a’la mode we both indulged in, as a way to cope.