This winter has seen the return of Lori the Lumbering Lummox.
In honor of this event, I thought I would try to pen a Dr. Seuss inspired rhyme about me and my paddling pads for feet; shaped more like snow-shoes or bundles of meat.
Currently, my hoes of choice are two rubberized rocks clearly marked snow shoes, read the sign by the box.
I had hoped they would keep my toes out of the snow, since Fez the wonder dog, had chewed my favorite leather boots right down to the bows.
My tootsies are warm but as bendable as steel, I might as well be strapped to a runaway wheel.
I clomp through the house, I bang down the stairs, I leave spatters of snow flung high in the air.
My boots lead me boldly through puddles of slosh, through snow drifts and snow clumps and small hills of frozen ice rocks.
The confidence I garnered should have foretold my plight for Lori the Lumbering Lummox was never far out of sight.
Hurrying ahead of my manly brood, I was sure my new snow shoes bolstered my confident mood.
I jumped over puddles, I strode through the snow.
I pushed toward our van parked by others in a row.
As I stood feeling smug by our salt-crusty ride, I felt a small unsureness giving way on my side.
The small swell of snow I thought was firm ground, was merely a shell over a ditch, deep, wet and brown.
Soon my confident snow boots were high in the air, my head and my backside on the ground laid bare.
I laughed as I realized my alter ego was back, the Lumbering Lummox was certainly not lax.
The twins were quick to check on my wellbeing and pride.
Alerted by their father, “Your mom’s going down boys!” he cried.
I was soon upright again and ready to roll. Though I was wet and cold…. with slightly bruised ego. So, go away winter I humbly sing, this Lumbering Lummox is ready for spring.
Lori Marble writes a weekly column for the Daily News.
