The One About The Sled

At the request of my sister, I give you “The One About The Sled”…


Once upon a time, exactly day four of ranch sitting in March, I woke to a decent overnight accumulation of snow.  Getting snow makes me giddy.  Getting snow makes me extremely happy.  Hey, I’m of Russian, Danish and Austrian decent…it can’t be helped.  More often than not snow can make ranchy/farmy kinds chores more challenging as a lot of you already know, but in this case it made it easier because I could slide the overnight manure out of the barn and to the big pile outside on a deep, black-plastic sled.  Oh, the memories of doing it this way as a kid!  A good workout I thought, once I got past the fact that it was a bit easier way back when.

So…there I was walking back to the barn, my whopping two loads to the manure pile completed and then I stopped, looked around and for the one millionth time thought, “God it’s gorgeous here!”  And then my next thought was, “I wonder if that little hill over there is steep enough to sled down?”  I quickly determined it wasn’t and turned around to scope out any other possible sled runs behind me.  And then I spotted this:


As evidenced by the sled tracks I went and did it.  Sure, I thought about how steep it was going be walking/hiking/crawling back up on my hands and knees…but I had to do it.  Had.  To.  So I did.  I rationalized that I needed a good leg/butt workout anyway…it would be perfect.  It was, except for the wrecking part. 

After my trusty plastic manure sled narrowly missed a really nice looking Tamarack tree (one of my favorite kinds of pine trees) the left side of my sled careened down into a slightly deep crevasse hidden from view under the snow covered road. 

So…Yes, I flipped the sucker.

I have not laughed so hard or for so long since – during the ride down yes, but mostly afterward.  I was relived that I didn’t break my neck (any more than it already is) and no neighbors/prying eyes were close enough to witness a stupid, laughing (or more like a stupidly laughing), 44 year old rocketing down a steep interior ranch road. 

On my ascent to the top I had plenty of time to think: 

This is making my muscles scream.

That was a blast.

Who would’ve done chores if I had hurt myself?

Who would’ve thrown the occasional log into the beasty wood burner that heats the whole house and the water?

I’m starving.

This hurts my legs a lot.

Who would’ve fed the dogs, the fish in the coy pond, the barn cats and seven head of horses? 

Oh yah, the owners would’ve been super impressed then. 

But wait…I remember something. There was one set of eyes taking it all in and when I got my huffing, puffing, manure-stained, flabby-muscle legged self back to the top he was sitting there, looking right at me and on the cold Idaho morning air Gus E.S.P.’d: 

Ya, bad idea.”


*True Story*

Have a super safe and fun Memorial Day/Weekend Everyone!

~Miss Irresponsible


12 thoughts on “The One About The Sled

  1. What a GREAT story/confession! If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got ya by twenty years and even I – old, creaky me – would not have been able to resist that hill…..tee hee….AND, I’m wondering if that look in Gus’ eye is more slanted towards “why didn’t you take ME on your lap???” than “silly human!!”………… :D



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