Monday, December 8, 2008

Back to the Future

Remember the Back to the Future movies -- specifically the second one -- where Marty McFly goes into the future to see what he will be like when he's "old"? I think I had that experience last night.

We got some more snow yesterday afternoon. About 8 p.m. hubby (the one recovering from knee surgery) says he probably should go out and shovel. I'm like, what?! Don't be silly! If you slip and fall, the doctor will have have your head and kick my butt for being an incompetent and negligent caretaker.

So I wrap myself up in the fashionable blaze orange ski mask and my rusting green boots and head outside. It wasn't long before Carter, our professional shoveler, joined me. I didn't let him help too long because I thought perhaps his assistance was more about avoiding bedtime than anything else.

As I'm shoveling and scraping and wincing a bit when my back spasmed, I was thinking about my parents. How the heck do they handle snow removal? My 81-year-old dad walks around with a cane so would have to shovel one-handed and my 76-year-old osteoporosis mother would literally fall apart if she slipped and fell. I bet they both argue about shoveling, though, and both stubbornly claim they can do it. Is that what Jim and I will be like when he of the bad knee and me of the bad back are old?

As I washed down my calcium and joint-lubricant supplements after my high-fiber breakfast this morning, I was beginning to think I may already be there.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Byn- you can make anything sound interesting. i don't know how you do it. I, myself, had to go up to the barn after getting my Carharrt bibs on and finding my winter boots to find a snow shovel. I did clean off the sidewalk and deck. Josh came with the snowplow truck and did the driveway. You know our driveway, it would take me weeks, maybe months to shovel that thing. You are a great wife and tell that kid of yours that he's pretty awesome too. tell Jim i will commend him when he gets back to doing the driveway. Love, Lene