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| HUMOR FROM THE PUMPKIN PATCH By Marti Lawrence Articles published in The Examiner Newspaper Step into spring, or get stuck trying Ah! Spring! Glorious spring is sprung! Alas, I am sprung as well. No longer actually "broken", my right ankle continues to heal. Recent x-rays indicate the bones are growing themselves back together, probably curious about the metallic intruders in their space. (Fibula to Tibia - "Psssst! What's with the new guys in the neighborhood? Very shiny!") The pain has steadied out to a dull steady rhythm, syncopated to my heartbeat. If I wrote rap music it would make a dandy background - boom-chaka-boom-chaka! |
| Of course spring means rain. Rain means mud. Mud means stuck. Stuck as in, "Mom, I pulled the car up close to the door for you". Aww, what a sweet boy. "Ummm, mom, the car won't back up, the wheels are spinning in the mud." Best Friend rides to rescue again (whadda woman!), uses mighty SUV to dislodge Sprung One's automobile. Teases Middle Son, causing bright red blush to cover his face. Hugs him to relieve his embarrassment. Next time, leave car in driveway, I will hobble over with walker. Walker makes it to muddy spot (which is approximately the size of a football field) - no way around - gets stuck. Sprung Woman struggles to pull walker legs out of mud. Walker dislodges, sending Sprung Woman into Spring Mudhole. Fortunately, gooey mud softens blow sufficiently, that nothing but my pride is injured. Children struggle not to laugh. They fail. I survey scene. Heavy rain has drenched hair and clothing, and I am sitting in slushy muck. Even the cats are snickering (I am the feline "horse whisperer", I know what the cats are thinking), and all I can do is join the giggling gang. What can I say, it WAS funny! Besides, I have had my fair share of laughter at the expense of wet cats. Cats and moisture really don't mix well. And we've had some really dumb cats. Cats who were literally, "too dumb to come in out of the rain". Or the snow. Or the hail. In the past, I risked life and limb to rescue foolish cats that stood stupefied in a hailstorm, being pounded by un-understandable objects falling from the sky. Relating the story later, Child-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless said, "How much smarter were you, mom? You got pounded by the hailstorm going out to rescue them". Duh on me. Why can our children always point out our foibles so brilliantly? So it rains. And rains. April showers bring May flowers? What do March showers bring? March mudness. Mud everywhere. Here a puddle there a puddle, everywhere a puddle-puddle. All of them waiting for me. Am I paranoid? No, I am wet. And muddy. I tell myself the rainwater drenching through to my scalp as I creep along at a snail's pace through the downpour, is probably a great hair conditioner. I lie to myself a lot these days. Middle Son drives at approximately the same speed I navigate the walker. During his early learning-to-drive days, he applied the brakes too lightly, and we nearly slid into the car in front of us. It warped the poor boy badly. Now he has an inordinate fear of wet roads. While I want him to exercise caution, I want to reach our destination before next winter. Gently urge him to go a little faster. We zoom up from 10 all the way to 12 miles per hour. At last, we make it to doctor's office. Parking lot is crowded, rain is heavy, and we must traverse several hundred feet from car to building. Receptionist glances up, says hello, then heads to back office, no doubt to release the about-to-escape laughter bubbling up at the sight of me. I am wet. Very wet. Wondering-if-the-metal-implants-are-rustproof wet. I slide soggily into chair. Doctor has obviously received special anti-laughter training at medical school, and doesn't crack so much as a hint of a grin at the sight of me. We peel off the stockinet, the white wrapping material that has encased my leg for months now. Scars are healing nicely, bones are knitting (a skill I never mastered), and approval to use cane is given. Oh joy! No longer must I struggle with walker clunking along, now I get to clunk along with a cane! Woo-hoo! Son brings car to entrance of building. Why didn't we think of that on the way IN? Duh on me - again. So now I have a new skill to learn. Stay tuned for more updates, as I study, "Walking With a Cane For Dummies". After I dry off, of course. |
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