Ice, ice, baby

Man. Winter is here! Looks nasty out there! I haven't left my house since Sunday night so not really sure how bad it is but dang does it look slickery. Woke up this morning feeling not so great so decided the universe was telling me to stay inside, sleep some more, and not venture into the icy world that awaited me. I'd probably slip and fall on my ass yet again. Yes, I have a bad habit of falling and/or tripping over minute specks of nothing, so why tempt fate with sidewalks covered in ice!?

I had visions of myself getting ready, putting on the warm coat, the hat, the mitts, the scarf (all colour coordinated and in sync with my beautiful deep pink peacoat) and, of course, the boots that I detest but actually protect me from nature's spoils. I'd open the door, pull out my purse-sized Radley umbrella (a birthday giftie from a friend) in a rather vain effort to protect the morning's do, and step out into the crunchy blue yonder. I'd be set, prepped, ready to go - and then I'd take three steps and fall on my ass.

You see, it's happened before. I'm not just some ice-phobic paranoid girl who shuts down at the mere sight of the slashy triangles The Weather Network uses in its inane attempt to visually represent freezing rain to the masses - I simply can't stay on my feet.

Case in point, April 2004. Yes, I said April, and yes, my memory extends back as far as 2004. Didn't think I had it in me, did you? It's amazing what sticks when you become domesticated and start cutting back on the martinis. Bah ha ha. And again, I digress...

April 2004, I'm taking my fine self to the subway station. I follow my regular route, one I've traveled hundreds, nay thousands, of times. It's April so spring is coming, you can almost FEEL it, but it was a bit chilly that fateful morning, so what was melted in the sun was still ice in the shade. Today's bit of advice - keep away from the shady ice bits...go towards the light, my diva friends! The alternatives are quite nasty.

Being April, I'm not wearing boots. I detest boots in each and every form. In fact, while it might result in some of you feeling the need to turn me in to the dastardly diva gestapo for what I'm about to say, I feel it's important to be true to you, my loyal readers: I'm not really a fan of shoes, either. Not a footwear afficionado.

GASP!

I know, I know. I feel shame that I can not truly embrace this key component of diva-hood but alas, I have to be me. I've tried, I really have! I have an extensive collection of shoes...but they're more for function than form. I've tried to keep up by having at least a decent number of pairs, but I can't get overly excited and all googley eyed at the latest pumps, etc, no matter who puts them out. Maybe it's because, as a diva sized woman, the psi (pounds per square inch) rating on those tiny heels is too much for my poor ankles and soles to handle. Maybe that's it.

I don't know, I can't explain it - I just don't have it in me. And as a result, quite often you will find that my footwear, be it sandal, boot or heel, has a slightly utilitarian look to it. You know that look - the 'that shoe could go with so many outfits, but will never really stand out in a crowd' look. My shoes will never be special. And I have learned to live with that. My name is divajen, and I am not a shoe-aholic. Sigh. Now back to April.

If nothing else, I am most certainly the queen of tangents. It would appear as though I have that market covered.

So yes, being April, I'm not wearing boots. It's almost spring dammit, so I'm ready to get right into that spring thing. And that's why it happens. I see the sun, I see the shade, I see the ice, I look down at my shoes and then...I'm slipping. My feet come out from under me, I flail around like the proverbial headless chicken, and all I can think is 'please don't let me hit my head', just before I hit my head. Boo.

I'm lying there, limbs akimbo, conscious (thank god), and trying to figure out how to extricate one leg from under the other. Slowly I begin to bring myself to a sitting position, exceedingly aware of the pool of brown water now seeping into my coat (protect the good stuff!!) and the delightful old couple now coming my way to make sure I'm okay. Why, oh dear lord why, must we have an audience when these mortifying moments befall us? The woman must have watched my head make a speedy acquaintance with the pavement, because the next thing you know, she's whipped out her cellphone and is poised to come to my rescue - or at least to call someone else to do it for her.

Now, one of my biggest fears is having to be taken anywhere by ambulance (so little control over how you go in, ya know?), so I quickly stumble to my feet so as to assure her that yes, I am fine and no, no need to bring in the big guns. All is well. Thank you, I'm fine. Yes, I'm sure. Thank you, no - I can get home on my own. Yes, thanks again - I'm really fine. Bye! Yeesh. I slink home, tail between my legs, limping a bit and nursing the ever rising lump on my back of my noggin. Poor me indeed. I pull off my coat and into the laundry it goes. I change my pants (I skinned my knee!! What, am I four?) and, emboldened by my now dry wardrobe, I venture out anew. But this time I take an alternate route, avoiding that patch of sidewalk altogether.

This was almost three years ago, and I STILL approach with caution when stepping on that particular square. I have, of course, returned to my original route since the incident - back on the horse and all that - but every winter I eye it with great trepidation and, on days like today, all those fun falling memories come flooding back to me. So tomorrow, when I do head back out into this icy winter wonderland, I'll don my none-too-sexy black boots with killer treads and I'll take my sweet ass time getting to the subway. No falls for me in 2007! I like my pink peacoat too much to get it all wet. Besides - it's dry clean only.

Tread safely, my diva friends!!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?