I guess there are two ways to deal with a large steaming manure pile on your doorstep. The first way is to be livid about who would do this to ME? What did I do to deserve THIS? I can be angry and unbearable and just let it sit there. This of course will result in the oldest eventually walking through the large manure pile because he didn't see it, and tracking it through the entire house to find me, to tell me he thinks he has something on his boots. And it smells. The dog would of course roll in it from head to toe, and she would stink. If I let it sit long enough, the youngest will make manure castles and manure moats and plow some manure fields. The house will stink, and smell sour, and everyone would just blame the manure. And they would learn to resent the manure and blame whoever or whatever caused it to arrive.
OR, I may let it sit there for a whlie. I'll be angry it arrived. Sad its so messy and everyone has to deal with it. Worried if it goes away, more will arrive when I'm not looking. But eventually, with the help of some people, not afraid to get their hands dirty, we will move the manure. We will break ground and mix it into the earth. We will knead the manure into the the promise of black dirt. And we will plant seeds. Lots of seeds and watch what good comes from all of it. Because something will, it always does.
So while I wait for the frost to thaw and the snow to melt (or to come again, and then melt and come again and then melt) I am trying to find the positive to my perverbial manure pile, I've decided to share some of the "perks" of being given a stride that resembles a slow, high stepping strutting rooster-horse. And if you read, and laugh, then I will have done my job and feel purpose!
Parking. Trips to Target ususally resulted in the following choices; A) Park on the west side of building, but then wonder how you are ever going to get backed out of those spots. B) Park on the distant east end of the lot in the spots that made sense when the doors used to be where they were, and should have stayed, but make no sense to where the doors are now, or C) Park on the north end, where it would just be easier to go eat my weight in Cheddar Biscuits at Red Lobster across the street than go find my toilet paper. With my temporary handicap tag (that surely confuses those who also see the 26.2 sticker on my car), I won't lie. Front row Rock Star parking is awesome.
Speaking of Target, I am now able to use one of the dangerous motorized carts. Of course in typical fashion I manage to get the one with a wobbly wheel. The basket on these carts holds exactly, 1 large pack of paper towels, one 24 pack of toliet paper, the movie Frozen and a large bag of peanut M&Ms. Do not stop, proceed to check out, save $230 you would normally spend, and watch the glee on husband's face that there were no woven baskets, ceramic chevron rabbits, Legos or "organizational" items purchased!
I've found it nice that no one will allow me to walk and carry liquids. Coffee burns, wine stains, and soda bubbles over. If I am alone, I resemble a toddler with a milk cup... a cup always only half full. It is pretty sweet to have my coffee brought to me.
While it makes me kinda sad I can't carry my 40 pound, feels like a wiggly bag of cement toddler.... I can't carry my 40 pound, feels like a wiggly bag of cement toddler.
Since almost every trip to Fargo somehow involves the Trifecta of Hardware: (Menards, Home Depot, and Fleet Farm), my aforementioned use of motorized carts has made these visits so much less painful. Don't get me wrong, I am a total Do It Yourselfer. But somehow in these stores EVERY aisle needs to be investigated, rebate items collected and prices compared. Now I can just toodle around, with a Moses effect on the crowds, driving and texting, doing drive-by grabs of pickled asparagus and night light bulbs, trying to avoid running into stacks of PVC pipe and bins of balls. While those things turn on a dime, just maintain a forward motion. No one likes the spotlight of a back up alarm just because you missed the aisle of orange circus peanuts and 12# bag of pistachios.
One of my treatments is high dose IV steroids. If it doesn't help the walking, I am sure it is going to help the tendonitis I've had in my foot for a year, my achey hips I have had, my stiff neck and anything else that was hurting. It is also allowing me to be awake at 4am, like I've piggy-backed a case of Red Bull with a pot of coffee and allows great musings to write themselves in my head.
I've discovered a lot of ups, to this down. One of the biggest is just, despite the horrible stories in the media, the ones that can chip away at my faith in humanity, it is my discovery that really and truly most people care. They care and they love, and they give selflessly. And they will be there from the smelly beginning to the beautiful end.