This weekend I convinced Jeff to take me to the mall after the ice storm settled down...He was so eager to start the car, he raced out of the house, and flew in the air after sliding on a sheet of ice covering our front porch. He landed with a thud on his bottom, straight on the cement ground. While he screamed in pain, I screamed back that he could be seriously hurt and what was he thinking--running on ice? He can't skate! We both joked about the whole thing afterwards as we gingerly helped one another to the car.
But tonight as he dropped his pants, my jaw dropped that a bruise the size of a football is stretched across his bottom. It's really something. I felt awful for minimizing his pain...I'm trying to convince Jeff to let me take a picture and share it with all of you.
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