Blonde on the Prairie: Accident Prone With Proof
I’m considering making an offer to Hollywood or Fargo-whichever one takes me up on it first I’m supposing. That husband of mine witnesses the things that happen and surely my girlfriends hear about it. I’ve been meaning to ask my doctor If there is anything written in the medical journals about certain bodies being accident prone and magnets to the not-so-common of occurrences. If it’s not written yet I offer myself up to science. My offer was at first just going to include me agreeing to wear a camera attached to the front of me so the researchers could be privy to the things that happen before me. This week though I’ve decided to include the back side of me as well as a camera atop my head.
It was a normal day as far as days go. Husband went to work as did I. We met back at home and after a welcome home hug and the late lunch like we always have, we went on with our own routines. I plopped down in the recliner to watch Dr. Phil and he putzed around on the computer.
The sage age I am at the moment has taught me that I have to keep moving. If I am moving and in motion it means I am not yet dead. I rather enjoy being alive most days. Like most wives, what I enjoy he will enjoy too — by golly! Whether he knows it or not he loves walking every single day up our long, country drive. I saddled up our dogs since we don’t have horses, put on my fuzzy, warm boots and wrapped a scarf around Husband’s neck. We usually walk side by side but this day I was a wee bit concerned about my blood sugar being low. I felt a little bit funny so I didn’t go all the way to the end. I began walking back in front of him with one of the dogs just in case. A diabetic should never be too far from sugar when she’s feeling low. Our driveway has wide-open prairie on both sides until the prairie grasses meet up to the tree claims. When we get to the tree claim we are nearly back home to the cabin.
I would like to announce something. I am the yeller in this family.
Pert-near everything I ever wanted when I was young I had to yell for.
Mama had so many babies that I couldn’t be heard unless I did. Husband is a peaceful, quiet soul and pert-near everything he ever wanted when he was young he just had to quietly ask for and it was his. Opposites attract. Imagine my surprise then when there I walked many steps ahead of him, dog on the leash in hand when I heard him yell. He didn’t just yell he yelled at me! He didn’t just yell at me he yelled with the kind of warning that made me believe he meant it and he yelled loud. I had just made it to the tree claim when I heard him behind me.
“Look OOOooouuu-t!” he yelled.
The rest was in such slow motion that I felt the soft tissue of my face float across the skeleton of my skull. It was as if someone took a pressurized air hose and sprayed my lips across my face. I whipped my head around so fast in disbelief for him using his “outside voice” that I nearly missed the point of his concern.
When my face skin and lips finally ended up where my head stopped I saw it. A doe leaped out at me full force. It flew over me as if I were watching one of Santa’s reindeer trying to take flight. Husband began running towards me prior to the doe leaping figuring it was going to hit me instead of jumping over me. I felt the force of the leap. It was a surreal moment. I dropped to the ground in complete awe of what just happened and what could have happened. I was so thankful the doe chose me to show itself to. That said, I could have become the new lyrics to an old song.
”Jodi got run over by a doe deer.
Walking up the driveway Sunday eve.
You can think there’s no such thing as accident prone.
But as for me and Husband , we believe!”
Husband has decided it is time. He has asked that I don’t leave home walking unless I am wrapped in bubble wrap with an emergency rope and first aid kit attached to my person.
He forgot to consider the dangers in me with plastic near my head, a rope to get tangled in and the many dangers in the first aid kit. Maybe I’ll just stay inside and safe. Nah. I’d miss the good stuff then.
Besides, you’d have nothing to read about if I didn’t do combat walking with a joyful heart. Thank you for another year of taking the time to read my columns. I’m beyond thankful for you-truly. We’ve spent the last nine years together already. Pending no more bump ins with this doe I hope for at least another nine.
Ingstad lives on the prairie near Valley City and writes this column for the Times-Record.