Today, as Laura and I arrived for our post-Thanksgiving brunch, we were greeted at the door by some rambunctious dogs. My mother tried to corrall Yeti, but was unsuccessful and exclaimed, "Don't let Yeti out!". Laura reached down, and grabbed Yeti by a finger-tip. Now, Yeti is not a huge dog, but makes up for his stature with pure muscle. One finger most certainly wasn't going to hold him anywhere. Laura yells at me to help grab him, and I lunge at the dog while losing my balance. I take two steps backwards; kicking over a pot of frozen mums, two pumpkins, and finally tumble over backwards off the front steps. I'm flying through the air for what seems like an eternity, constantly struggling to regain my balance. Luckily there's a few inches of snow on the ground to make a nice cushion for my fall. It was a good thing I answered Laura's "Are you okay?" quickly, because she was ready to start screaming hysterically. I think it probably looked much worse than it actually was. I was fine, of course. No worse for the wear other than a few scratches on my hands, and some numb fingertips. I still haven't quite figured that one out.