Somebody needs to tell March's lion that it's April now, and he should have gone out like a lamb. The winds were whipping again in Hillmomba on Thursday. Not a good day for Mrs. HM and her lovely lady-mullet while doing the weekly errands.
My near-death experience is discussed on my not-so-secret blog. But I will share the near-maiming with you here.
I stopped for T-Hoe's gas at the Sis-Town Casey's. Every time I do that, I mull over changing the location of my gas-getting. I just don't like the pump situation at the other Casey's stores. Not sure why I like this one, since it's not exactly Mrs. HM-friendly.
This Casey's is located halfway up a big hill. To the south is the old lead mine. You can't see the actual mine building from the pumps, but you can see the tailings. The acres and acres of dust that resulted from rocks ground up and transported from underground. It's actually a state park. There's a lake way out in there that I used to frequent as a high-schooler. And an 11-mile blacktop trail that I used to walk in the summer. Not every day, of course. Just on special occasions to prove that I could.
Anyhoo... the wind comes whipping across that vast expanse, even on calm days. It usually makes me wish I had worn a jacket. On Thursday, it made me wish I had shaved my head. The Medusa-like tendrils of my lovely lady-mullet snaked around my face, getting in my mouth, in my eyes, whipping the skin of my cheeks and forehead, tangling themselves worse than a knot puzzle on a competitive reality show.
That's not even the worst part. The worst part was opening T-Hoe's door. It was a feat of strength, and a test of ingenuity. Once I forced the door open two notches to start my climb onto the running board, I had to devise a way to keep it from slamming before I had my legs in, perhaps slicing me mid-shin like a very dull guillotine.
I did this by holding the door open with my left hand, while grasping the frame of the cab with my right hand, to hoist myself onto the running board. Then I used both hands to hold open the door, while sitting my rumpus on the seat. Then I used my left hand and leg to hold the door open while I drug my right leg into the vehicle. Then a quick (for me) yanking in of the left leg, while trying to fend off the wanting-to-slam door with only my left hand. Thank the Gummi Mary for some intermittent gusts.
Let the record show that Mrs. HM still has a complete set of limbs.
I try not to venture out in the wind, living on this sloping land. I am afraid I would lose my balance, much less e able to handle the door of a vehicle! Add to al that, I tend to find my unsure footing amusing and if I start laughing I will need the bathroom and not make it in time. HeWho is so lucky to have me, I am fun!
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteYou are wise to stay out of the wind. The ravine is no place for you!
Remember the old days when the front seat was one wide bench and you could have got in from the other side and shuffled yourself across? Of course seat belts weren't invented then and if you took the corner too fast your passenger would slide into your lap...
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteI DO remember those days. When people let their toddlers stand on the seat beside them while they were driving, and the "seatbelt" was the mom's arm thrown out across the toddler's chest if she had to make a sudden stop.
A bench seat would not have helped me with the wind. It was coming straight at us, and T-Hoe's passenger door would have faced the same fate as the driver's door. Had I realized it was going to be so powerful, I could have gone to Pump 5 or Pump 3, so the wind would have been holding T-Hoe's door OPEN as I got in and out. Hopefully not breaking off the hinges! T-Hoe is pretty old in car years. He's from 2008. His door handle has already come off in my hand once, and feels like it might again.