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Once upon a time, I backed out of our attached garage not realizing that there had been some freezing rain. Our street wasn't awful and the main roads were pretty clear so I drove on to my destination, the local quilt shop. It was the 2nd Saturday sale and I didn't want to miss that.

The front parking lot had been salted, but it was completely full so I headed around to the back lot. Of course, it was really slick back there. I parked and then "skated" over to the back door. To get in the building, I had to either walk up some stairs or use the ramp. I hung onto the railing and pondered my options.

1. Try the stairs
2. Skate back to the car
3. Stand there until the ice melted

I had pretty much decided on option 3. Imagine that my body position is like the hands of a clock and it's 6 o'clock. My head is at the 12 and my feet are at the 6. Seconds later, it's 12:30, feet up, head down. I basically landed right on my nose and blood was gushing everywhere. I crawled up the stairs and then noticed that my blue coat looked purple. The shop owner's face also turned purple because she surely thought that I'd sue her.

So then I called my husband and he came and picked me up. (The shop owner gave me a whole bunch of free stuff on my way out the door.) He took me to OSF. I can't remember what it was called back then. It was several name changes ago. Anyway, once I got settled in a treatment room, my husband went outside to text our adult children. This was so long ago that there were signs all over the waiting room that said that support people must turn their cell phones off. So he sent a group text and then turned off his phone. The text said, "Your mother's in the hospital." He didn't say which hospital and he didn't say what the problem was.

So this story is now called, "That Time Dad Sent the Worst Text of All Time." He totally stole my story.

There's a really great Part 2. I'll share that later. it will be called, "Mrs. Memlie's Worst and Best Day of Teaching."