A $1.50 trip to Lowe's was just the start of icy adventure

It’s funny how a trip to Lowe’s for a package of packing tape can lead to white majestic mountain top splendor.

(Or something like that.)

My husband, Arnie, and I fought our way across the frozen tundra over the weekend to get the afore-mentioned packing tape to repair the big cardboard box we stuffed our Christmas tree in.

The trip to the basement caused the box to burst at the seams, nearly spilling all of its 9-foot pine-needled contents.

While we were at Lowe’s, Arnie’s eyes fell upon the new display – just set up for the season. Big plastic sleds with bright yellow ropes.

A grin crossed his face as he reached for one of the all-time great memories of childhood and stood it up on its end.

“Wanna get one,” he asked.

What was he, nuts? Did he think I was going to let him get out of that store with a sled?

“Well of course not,” says I. “You’d better make it two.”

So off we go with our packing tape and sleds. Our $1.50 trip has now cost us $15.50.

Then, realizing I no longer own the kinds of clothes you can go out in for snowy adventures, Arnie made a pit stop at Wal-Mart. There, we were able to purchase the most wonderful navy blue snowsuit with big old suspenders. It made me look like the Michelin Man. I adored it.

We grabbed a matching quilted jacket on sale. Then Arnie decided I’d better have a full-face ski mask to keep my ears and neck warm. (Always thinking ahead, that man. He’s definitely a keeper.)

You’d be surprised how hard it is to find a full-face ski mask in the year 2009. Why, in 1979 when my mom forced me to wear one when I went sledding, those things were in abundance. All us kids had the stupid things.

But I guess too many gas station holdups have resulted in fewer of those masks being produced.

Arnie and I spotted two that were close enough. Bright orange hunting toboggins with only a hole big enough for your eyes and nose to peep out of. And, since they were on sale, Arnie grabbed one up, too.

We were almost out of the store. Arnie added to our purchase a big padded pair of gloves to go with my new snow suit, and a pair of hunting socks with little pockets on the toes.

Inside these pockets, you place little pouches that heat up when you shake them. He thought these would keep my tootsies toasty. (I told you this man is a keeper.)

So, jackets and snowsuits and toe toasters in tow, we make it through the check out line, and our $1.50 trip has now cost us nearly $90.

It was nearly dark when we arrived home, but as soon as we hit the door, the purchases came tumbling out of the bags. We quickly changed into our winter gear and tore out the doors, me in my snowsuit and Arnie in his cover-alls.

Our horses, who’d been watching from the fence, tore across the field to get away from these two strange orange-headed spectacles.

We dragged those sleds up the hill in our pasture. (Pant, pant, pant.)

We got to the top, took a running step and “Whoooooooooooooooo!”

Down the hill we sped! Arnie, being the smarter of the two when it comes to sledding, went down on his backside.

I, however, got a running start and did a belly flop onto my sled, racing down the hill at top speed face first.

I laughed and had to close my eyes as snow sprayed in my face and winter weeds whacked me in the forehead.

It was an exhilarating, albeit too-quick ride. We tromped back up the hill, and “Wheeeeeeeee” down we came again.

We slowly, like two aged monks, dragged our bodies up the hill again.

Sweating like a pig in my snowsuit, my heart pounded inside my chest.

Arnie wheezed.

Down we slid one more time, and this time, when we got to the bottom, we lay there looking at each other.

“Well,” Arnie says. “It’s getting dark. Better head back in.”

“Yep,” I agree, trying to catch my breath. “Sure seemed like those hills were easier to climb when I was 10.”

Hand in hand, sleds dragging behind us, we made our way back to the house.

That $1.50 trip for packing tape sure took a detour. But the fun we had was priceless.