In which I can endure all manner of drama and tragedy, but fall victim to half an inch of precipitation

I really probably shouldn't leave you with a post which makes me sound like a closet alcoholic before disappearing for a few days.
So much goes on around here, you'd think I'd have lots to write about. I've really been out of my normal routine lately and I find that I can't always figure out when to sit and think. It's thinking time that turns into writing time for me. Plus, the blog has had a little competition from the completion of our annual Christmas letter. That is where any of my available writing time has gone. Usually I work at applying humor and vocabulary to the Christmas letter. This year, however, I have neither wit nor expendable I.Q. to inject into the seasonal missive. How entertaining can Prison visits, drug use, college life and homeschooling be? That's all second-hand excitement, anyway. It doesn't hit on the actual exciting events of my life.
Speaking of the fascinating events of my life, I endured a most unwelcome event only last night. I got into a single-car-collision. Who does that? Me, evidently.
So, in Idaho, it seems that the local transportation department may not have access to weather reports. Every year, at the first snowfall, traffic becomes a tangled mess, with pile-ups on the freeway and slide-offs on the side streets. Nary a snowplow nor a sand truck is anywhere to be seen.
Such was the case last night. Normally, I wouldn't venture out under such circumstances, but I had a speaking engagement. You can imagine my enthusiasm for the odd speaking engagement. Who likes to be the center of attention? Who adores a captive audience? Well. so.
On my way home, I quickly discovered that a lifetime of Idaho driving had not prepared me for the conditions of our iced over thoroughfares. On the freeway, I managed a 360 degree spin from the slow lane to the fast lane. When I stopped, I was rear-end-in to the concrete barrier and facing oncoming traffic.
I can only imagine that they were as surprised as I was.
After a fleeting whimper for my mommy, I realized that blocking two lanes of traffic meant that I couldn't see the third lane, nor could they see me. So, I attempted a gazillion point turn, and faced my car right-way-round in the fast lane. I hit the hazard lights on and limped forward. In truth, I had visions of dragging my bumper through the December ice as I shakily made my way along. Once all of the cars in the region had successfully passed me, I cautiously maneuvered back across four lanes and onto the nearest exit ramp, thence to the nearest parking lot to assess the damage.
Seldom have I endured such disappointment.
My bumper was mildly  displaced, and the back of my car had absorbed concrete ruble, like calcium deposits on my back side. Honestly, for all the drama of the actual event, you'd think I could produce a decent dent, at the very least.
So, I'm fine. The car is fine. My pride is slightly injured from the incident, but it's large enough to endure the pain.
Back to the Christmas letter.