Parky Supermans

As I sit here nursing a hurt foot (see previous blog post), it seems such a long time ago that i was merrily doing one of the things that i enjoy best in this world. Building something. I started building a raised garden in my backyard this Spring to help with erosion control. Being on a rather steep hill, erosion is a perpetual problem in my yard. Because I wanted this raised garden to serve as a sturdy bulwark against the relentless pull of gravity, I dug footers 3 ft deep, and 12 inches in diameter so that I could concrete in the supports. This meant that it took 3 80 lb bags of concrete to fill the footers and set the supports. Did I mention I don’t mind a little manual labor?

So what does this have to do with the title of this blog post? Hang in there, you’ll find out. After centering and leveling the 4×4 post in the hole, I mixed three 80 lb bags of concrete in a large wheelbarrow (this, in itself is a feat of strength). The trouble is the hole that the concrete needed to get into was uphill from me. To save time carrying the mixed concrete a shovelful at a time to the hole, I wanted to get the wheelbarrow closer, further up the hill.

Now, I knew it was a bad idea as soon as it popped into my head. I’ll use momentum I thought. Nevermind that it’s wet and muddy and the wheelbarrow, full of mixed concrete weighs well in excess of 250 lbs. In a sudden rush of bravado, I ran with the wheelbarrow and forcefully pushed it up the hill…only to have my feet slip out from under me.

So now, you know how the title of this post applies to the situation being described here. Yes, I did in fact, momentarily bear a strong resemblance to Superman. Stretched out like that with my hands still firmly grasping the handles of the wheelbarrow. Hands that a moment later were rudely smashed into the ground under the considerable weight of the wheelbarrow, as I did a full-on Parky faceplant. As if this wasn’t already cartoonish enough, the wheelbarrow, now angled downhill and towards me dumped it’s contents over my head.

As I lay there bleeding (never something you want to say when telling a story), and with concrete on my head. I did what any self respecting do-it-yourselfer would do. I popped up, and completely ignoring the massive amount of pain I was in, carried on with the task at hand as if nothing unusual had just happened. The concrete was setting, after-all and needed to be put in that hole. I salvaged as much concrete as I could and went on to successfully set the post in the hole.

The point of this post is to show that, Parkinson’s or not, I’m just as human as the next guy. Prone to do dumb things and make mistakes (maybe a little more so, actually).

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