Can you walk a mile in high heels?

I've driven home from the late news at 11 for 17 years now in every snow storm we've had. But last night was a first!

We had the State of the State on last night and the snow arrived earlier than we expected. Since I had to work straight through on the Governor's address and couldn't get home, there was no opportunity to pick up hat gloves and snow boots, like I normally would have when a storm has arrived.

But was I worried about that? No. I've never had a problem in a storm.

The drive home at midnight Thursday, reminded me of some of my drives in Minnesota. On interstate 26, the snow was coming down fast. Visibility was really poor. With my husband out of town, I called my babysitter and warned her she may want to spend the night.

Of course, luck would have it my cell phone started beeping. Low Battery! Great, I thought, on a night like this!

I couldn't do more than 30 miles an hour on the interstate. And on some of the roads off of it I was down to 10 miles and hour with plenty of slipping and sliding.

Finally I pulled into my neighborhood and breathed a sigh of relief. Good news, just about home, I thought. And then I started trying to make my way up a small incline, the smallest of four hills ahead of me.

The slick slush was piling up on the roads. And I was about to pay the price.

With a now dead cell phone, there I was unable to get my car up the hill. I grew up in New York. I spent three winters working in tv in MInnesota. And here in my own neighborhood, in South Carolina, I couldn't get up a small hill.

I tried for a few minutes and then realized, if I couldn't get up this one, imagine the next three bigger hills. So I parked.

And then, I looked down at my feet. There I saw my really cute fashionable Nine West ankle boots, with the spiked three inch heels. I looked up and saw that the fluffly flakes that almost made me wreck on I-26 had turned into pelting sleet.

Oh boy.

I was a mile from home. With no choice but to hoof it.

At first I thought - what an adventure. But with each passing step, it grew more slick and more difficult.

I could see the beauty of it all, despite my painful footwear, but would have much preferred to be peeking out from my living room window for the view.

Slowly the sleet changed to soaking rain, and in my half hour shuffle home I got pretty wet.

When I finally opened the door, our babysitter Miss Delorse, said, "You look like a drowned rat." And I felt like one too.

But now I know, I can walk a mile in high heels.