Looking out and not down.

I find this piece of advice to work in almost every circumstance - in the mirror, one can zero in on a single eye.  And ignore the rest.  Say, not looking down to discover one cannot see their shoes.  Driving - over high bridges.  Nuff said.  Outside - trying desperately to find beauty in the endless frost/snow/ice.  Of course, the not-looking-down part could also be a little dicey vis a vis patches of ice.

I could have used that last piece of advice last night.  I had left work early to donate blood - I used to donate on a regular basis, way back, many lives ago.  I even was a regular platelet donor, a process that would take almost 2 hours.  Then the new hires at the Red Cross had less than stellar phlebotomy skills and I would leave looking like a black and blue pincushion.   A very interesting church (architecturally speaking - it's round) that I pass twice a day on my way to/from work, hosts regular blood drives.  One of the types they need is mine, so I always mean to leave early and stop on my way home, but - since it is more than 5 minutes from there to work - I always forget.  This time I remembered and made an appointment online.  Once there, I discovered a few things about myself:  I am chatty, as in yadda, yadda, yadda, when I am the slightest bit nervous.  I don't mind the needle in the arm, but the prick on my finger tip makes me woozy.  And I had to get pricked twice, since they couldn't find any iron in my blood the first time - due to the fact that my hands were so cold, the blood really hadn't made it up to my fingertips.  I was allowed to warm them up and the second try garnered plenty of iron.  Ouch.  I am stubborn.  I wanted to leap off the gurney, grab my coat and head home with my bottle of free water.  I almost got away with it, having successfully cowed the young nurselet, but then I ran into the formidable nurse who had been in charge of me and could easily read my mind.  I meekly sat down for five minutes with a packet of raisins.

Anyhoo, short story too long, I headed home and was delighted to see that my neighbor had plowed around my mailbox - it rose in a snowy, icy island, clear enough for even my picky postal carrier to reach.  I then looked up and out to enjoy the fact that it wasn't pitch dark, my foot slipped on the gas pedal, I hit a patch of ice, and went plowing into the giant ice/snow berm at the side of the driveway.  Where I was firmly mired. 

I would like to say that I handled the situation with grace and aplomb.  I would like to, but I can't.  A blue cloud lifted over me and sailed down the street.  Even the dogs ceased barking frantically, and just let out little yips.  I stomped in, let them out and then called my farmer neighbor.  I knew he was still at the barn, since I drove past on my way home.  Yup, he would stop on his way home.  He had me pulled clear in three minutes. I couldn't even mollify my bruised ego with a glass of wine, having been given a long list of 'don'ts' by the Head Nurse.  I had to settle for a cup of herbal tea.  It just wasn't the same.