I woke up this morning and looked out the window. Seeing it was still snowing, I sent a text to my hairdresser, Annette, telling her I wasn't going to get my hair done because of the snow. She texted back that she could move my appointment to the afternoon when the roads would be better, so I said okay.
I love Annette and she's been doing my hair for probably...15 or 20 years now. But the thing about knowing someone for so long is that they remember a lot of stupid stuff you've said or did over the years. So since we had like 7 inches of snow outside, she brought up one such incident and laughed and laughed. So I figured I would share this with you since she got such a big kick out of it...
My mother loves to watch ice-skating: it’s like poetry in motion. She says watching it relaxes her, and is so entertaining: especially the pair’s figure skaters.
One Saturday a few winters ago I was at my parents’ visiting with her and my sister. Skating was on, and we were commenting on the performances like we were in a position to judge anything. But it’s easy when you’re sitting in the living room in a recliner!
Anyhoo, you know how sometimes you have a thought that you don’t necessarily plan to say out loud? I was having such a thought as I watched the male skaters lift the little dainty women up over their heads and twirl them around. I thought, “How big would a man have to be in order to lift me over his head?” It wasn’t until I realized my sister and mother had fallen out of their chairs laughing that I realized I had verbalized my thought!
“Oh goodness!” my sister chortled, “he’d have to be Andre the Giant!” My mother couldn’t even verbalize anything, she was so busy wiping the tears of mirth from her face and hitting my sister on the arm in agreement.
Now you might think that I’d find that insulting, but I’m five feet ten inches tall and majorly healthy, so it’s true that he couldn’t be a lightweight like these male skaters. However, that got me thinking…
Schmoop-dog was pretty sturdy. With this in mind, I decided to run a little plan by him: I wanted him to lift me up over his head. When I first broached the idea to him, all he did was raise one eyebrow skeptically and say, “Excuse me?”
“Schmoop-dog, it’s not as impossible as it sounds. Here’s what we’ll do: you can be at the end of my driveway by the house, kind of leaning against the huge snow pile that the landlord plowed. I’ll be across the street, get a good running start, and my momentum will assist you in lifting me over your head! If you start to fall, the snow bank will catch you.”
By this time he had a definite look of alarm on his face. But not wanting to hurt my feelings he said, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Of course it is! We can do it. It won’t hurt. As I said, my momentum will make it easy for you to pick me up because I’ll also give a little jump when I’m just within arm’s reach of you.” I said this with a look of complete sanity on my face; I was so excited at the prospect of being airborne!
But alas, it was not to be. Schmoop-dog conveniently kept forgetting to try this with me, and by the time I seriously thought about it again, all the snow had melted. I'd been robbed! But maybe it was for the best, because as Brie said: she would have been outside waiting to press the second "1" for 9-1-1. and believe me: either Schmoop or I would have needed it!
Thanks for the memory Annette!
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