THE BUMPY ROAD

365 DAYS OF THANKSLIVING — DAY 106

If Mondays are manic, I’m almost afraid to see what Tuesday has in store. My morning was a masterclass in being "bumpy," "cheeky," and "daunting," all before the clock even hit noon. It started normally enough—up early, pups fed, and a quick hop into the car. Thanks to the hard work of Mike and Mitchell, I actually managed to back out of my driveway, which is the first victory of any Minnesota winter morning.

In a town of 350 people (plus a healthy population of dogs and cats), my commute is usually a "hold your breath and you’re there" kind of affair. Two blocks, a couple of turns, and boom—office. But today, the wind and snow decided to redesign the landscape.

Our city maintenance guru, Boon, must be running on pure caffeine and dedication because he’s been at it for 48 hours straight. He had the roads mostly cleared, except for these four-foot-high snow berms running down the centers like a frozen obstacle course. Navigating around them while my tires did their best "slip-slide away" impression actually took me back to high school.

I could almost feel myself behind the wheel of my dad’s old wood-paneled station wagon, pulling 180-degree donuts in the school parking lot. Of course, these days, I’m just happy to make it into the church parking lot without doing a physical 180 onto the ice myself.

Once inside—after a brief wrestling match with the ice-latched doors—the morning was actually great. I was in the zone, cranking the tunes and diving into sermon planning. That productive peace lasted until my office manager called from her other job at the dentist’s office. She had an opening for my oral surgery a week early.

Now, she drives a giant SUV with all-wheel drive; I drive a tiny, manual transmission economy sedan that is basically a glorified bobsled in these conditions. But, she told me to take it slow, and since I’ve been wanting that mouth ulcer gone for years, I took the gamble.

The fifteen-mile trek was like a solo game of Mario Kart, minus the fun power-ups. I hit my first drift less than a mile out of town. The plows were doing their best, but the wind was faster. The road was a washboard of "bumpy ice," which sounds like a bad thing until you realize that in a light car, that vibration is the only thing providing traction. Without those bumps, I’d have been a permanent fixture in a snowy ditch. It’s a strange irony when the very thing making your ride uncomfortable is the only thing keeping you on the road.

The procedure itself was a trip. I didn't expect a laser, and I certainly didn't expect the smell—and taste—of burnt flesh. It’s a successful surgery, but having a "cauterized crater" where an old friend of an ulcer used to live is going to take some getting used to. The drive back was a bit smoother, and I made it home to the sweet relief of mac-n-cheese and ice cream. (My Ketovore reset is taking a back seat to "doctor’s orders" for soft foods, and I’m not complaining about the bacon-filled comfort.)

Looking back on Day 106, I have a lot to weigh. I got my work done, I didn't end up in a snowbank despite thirty-odd drifts, and I’m finally rid of a nagging pain thanks to a caring staff. Sometimes the road is bumpy for a reason—it’s just the friction we need to get where we’re going.

Was your Monday just as manic? What are you finding to be thankful for in the midst of your own "bumpy ice" today?