Willie just walked by, dressed and ready for work. I asked him if he was leaving early, and he said, "Yeah, I don't know what the roads will be like."
If my trip out to get the papers is any indication, he's got a fun drive down Great Northern Road to Highway 2, which should be okay from Sandpoint to Newport.
Within the first few steps out the door earlier this morning, I knew I'd better switch to a lower, slower, more careful gear, lest I slide out of control and go splat on my behind into a bone-cracking pool of melted snow on ice.
I've experienced that sensation a time or two. Probably the most memorable happened many years ago at the folks' farm on North Boyer. One of the Hereford cows, infamously named Mary Elephant, had just calved. Her calf was born in wet, cold barnyard smudge.
For some reason, Mary Elephant resented my presence as I walked up to see her new baby. Lowering her head with those beady little eyes and horns primed for attack, she headed my way. I whipped around to escape, slipped on a patch of wet ice and plopped in the middle of the barnyard. The beast continued her pursuit.
My only defense lay in the multitude of wet pools surrounding me. Good ol' sloppy cow dung saved my life that day as I grabbed a handful and flung it at her. Hit her smack dab between the eyes, and if she was ugly before, she really cut a picture with that slimy slop dripping down her face.
After that experience, I've learned to step carefully in such conditions. Today is definitely one of those.
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