I've fallen and I can't get up

As in the previously mentioned post, winter's in full effect here in Iowa. Growing up in KC, Missouri, and living 4 years in Springfield, MO, I was not unaware or unaccustomed to snow, but I realized I am unaccustomed to multiple snow storms dropping anywhere between 3 and 19 inches of snow at a time, all the while never seeing the ground between the months of November to April.

Anyway, my ability to find a way to fall in any winter circumstance is new territory to a guy who grew up as at least a moderately athletic teenager, playing sports that depended on my ability to maintain balance. That apparently has all gone to pot. It began last winter when my wife and I went out to the local Christmas tree farm to pick out our coveted white pine. Nothing manlier than being outside, cutting down your Christmas tree. It was a very cold day, and inches of snow already covered the ground. Unlucky for me, it was a windy day, with a small amount of sleet coming down. Not enough to yield any dangerous driving conditions at that point, but just enough to instill a false amount of traction-related confidence in a saw-wielding 23 year old. As Mary-Jane and I moseyed around the office shanty and down a small slope toward the Christmas trees, I began to say something pleasantly cliche and warm about this time of year. I was careful as we traversed down the small slope toward the tree, but lost my focus in the deeper snow, only stomping through the trees, half concentrating on what I was saying, and half concentrating on the trees around us. Unfortunately that left no concentration for my footing. Before I knew it, my feet went out from under me, and being the safe yet periodically freaked out gentleman I was, I did not yell, and I carefully and tastefully went spread-eagle in mid-air as to keep the saw away from me. There are tons of things manlier than a sore backside, a heapful of snow down my neck, and what I thought was a loving wife, standing over me pointing and laughing...that was fall #1.

They say in football that interceptions come in bunches for a player, y'know, where he gets in his groove. Well, a similar philosophy could be taken into my falls of this year thus far. It has been less than three weeks since the first snowfall, and I have fallen three times already. I'm beginning to wonder if I should wear a sandwich board around my neck to warn others around me...hey, I'm courteous...I want to make sure people know the risk of being within my proximity. Anyway, fall #2 came one icy/snowy morning walking our dog, Frosty (who will have a slew of posts related to his antics). A fresh dusting of snow covered a deceivingly dangerous sidewalk. I was walking, Frosty's leash in one hand, and full bag of Frosty's "business" in the other. With no warning, both feet went out from under me, I dropped the leash, and poop went-a-flyin'. I layed on the cold concrete for a moment to gather my thoughts, check my extremeties, and see Frosty looking at me as to say "Hey, there's no time to mess around, there's a lot more things I have to sniff and pee on out here." Thankfully, my shoulderblade captured the brunt of my fall (it would be sure to remind me of that throughout the next two days as I was unable to turn my head and neck to the right - oh well). Noticing a person across the street in an open garage, I decided to save face (the condescending look from my dog notwithstanding) and quickly pounced up on my feet so to not attract attention. That was fall #2.

Less than a week later fall #3 made itself know at the anniversary spot of my first fall. Yes, back at the Christams tree farm, heading back to the office, Mary-Jane and I carried our tree with Frosty in leashed pursuit. I had tree in one hand, infamous saw in the other, and was leading the pack up over a 2-3 foot mound. One step on the mound, and down I went...Again, being the gentleman I am (and when I say gentleman, I mean stupid idiot) I held out the tree and saw as to not damage them, and made sure my gut took the brunt of the hit on the now very much apparent wooden beam that was set across the top of the mound. A few quick gasps of air, and a very questionable burp later, I was on my feet, embarrassed only in front of my wife...the person who I spend the most amount of time with that can remind the most of my ungracefulness.

Fall #4, currently the last fall (but it's only Decemeber 17th!) of the year, happened last night. This time, I took my poor-footed antics indoors. During the day, 5 inches of the white slippery stuff fell, and I had just hiked across campus to a lecture hall where I was to help monitor an exam. Up in the lecture hall I was busy passing out bubble sheets for the students. A second graduate student came over to me to get half of the stack of sheets to assist in passing them out. I gave him the internationally recognized "sure thing nod" and began town the towering flight of 4 stairs toward him. Both hands full of sheets I took one step down the stairs on to the edge of a step where a rubber coating, meant to assist in footing, had become very wet, or at least wet enough for me...yep, my foot went out from under me, my bum landed squarely on the step, and papers went flying. There was no saving face here. I was loud...not vocally, but in a silent lecure hall, when a 220 pound man slips and falls about six feet to the ground and about 100 papers go flying in the air, everyone hears it. I calmly got up, scooped up the papers, and continued to pass them out. To my surprise, the students gave me mostly sympathy looks, masking their thoughts of my ineptness at walking. Well, that's all about the falling for now, but history would suggest that there will be latter posts covering updates to this topic...