Today is Groundhog's Day. It is nearly five and I do not know if the little guy saw his shadow or not, whether we will have six more weeks of winter or not. I do know it is cold today and I would not blame anyone or anything who did not want to crawl out of a nice warm hole to give the weather report.
I am not sure I like this day, it is after all the birthday of an old high school girl friend of my husband - who incidentially looks very much like an old groundhog, but I digress. It is also the anniversary, ten years ago today, that I broke my leg. I was doing a good deed - carrying out the trash at church so no one else would have to do it. I had almost managed to drag the very heavy trash can to the road when I slipped on the ice and went tumbling into the ditch. I remember thinking as I was attempting to crawl out that if anyone asked me if I saw my shadow I was just going to scream. After much tugging and pulling and help from hubby and a passerby I managed, in a very unladylike manner, to flop into the back seat of our car and off the hospital we went. They took x-rays, gave me a prescription for pain, wrapped my leg in one of those long, splinted elastic thingys and sent me and my two broken bones on our merry little way. I was sure this was no big deal because they didn't even put it in a cast. It would be a year exactly - to the day - after wheelchairs, crutches, canes, a whole lot of pain, and the constant reminder from my twelve year old looking doctor that I was not as young as I used to be, before I would be released from medical care.
I have not volunteered to take out the trash since.
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