Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} As a famous Christmas song says, “I want to wash my hands, my face, my hair with snow.” No, I’m just kidding – I don’t like snow, and snow doesn’t like me. Every time it snows, I want to curl up in a ball with my zebra-print Snuggie and ignore the fact that it’s snowing. However, knowing my mom, I must get up and do a ton of things…in the snow. I’m normally just a clumsy girl; add slippery ice into the mix and my accidents are more frequent… and more embarrassing. So let’s face it: we’ve all had our shares of falling down because of a patch ice. But have you ever fallen down because you were running on that patch of ice, in slippers, without the knowledge that the ice patch is nearly 20 feet long? If so, you’re not alone! A few winters ago, I was running from the Chinese Dynasty in Cranberry – Chinese food, what’s not to love!? I had no idea the slippery shining substance below my feet was an ice patch. I was calling shotgun when I noticed my feet start to slip – well I suppose slip is the wrong term, falling out from under me is much more appropriate. My slippers weren’t doing anything for my traction…I now understand why they are called SLIPpers. I went down faster than Patrick Star could eat a Krabby Patty. Next thing I knew, I was laying on the ground, a good five feet from my mom’s car. Oh, don’t worry, I had plenty of help getting up once my mom stopped laughing and started breathing again. Not only did my family see it, but so did the group of families walking to their cars. Their laughs still ring in my ears when I picture myself falling. That was the last time I ever decided to run in the winter, or trust my family to assist me in getting off the ground. Welcome to my life, where clumsy is my middle name. Elizabeth Clumsy Brunner; I think it’s got a pretty nice ring to it.