The drive was icy. To save time for the friend picking me up for a class I walked to the end of the drive on my husband's arm to wait for her.

Two or three inches of ice covered the drive. I was picking my way very slowly down the slight hill to the street.

You are way ahead of me.

At the end of the drive, with no warning and with no grace, I went down...down...down on my knee (and then rolled over on my behind).

After the initial shock I realized that my friend had gotten out of the car, sliding her way around to me. My husband was saying, 'are you all right?' 'what hurts?'

Besides my ego, nothing seemed broken. When I figured out the former I got tickled. I could feel the ice seeping into my jeans and gloves, the only things touching the ground. As my husband tugged and my friend pulled, I just giggled at the absurdity of it all.

This morning I am sporting a grand bruise on my leg and knee. Sadly it will be covered in long johns and jeans so no one can 'ooh' and 'aah' and ask aghast, 'what happened?' 'are you all right, you poor thing?'

But that also keeps me from having to explain, and give them the visual of the accident. I do not want to do that to their psyche.

And that's what I think about it.