And they're off. . .

Little sidenote here: I feel like we're all family too.


It’s my philosophy every day is a new adventure, that life gives us just enough excitement to leave us “sitting on the edge of our seat” wondering what will happen next. This past Monday was no exception. It started like the middle part of a horror movie; there was not a drop of coffee in the house, causing John and I to shuffle around like mindless zombies, and the children to run away in terror.

To make matters worse, our Jimmy, in a premeditated plan of rebellion, broke down in the driveway. It was the fourth time in three months the blasted thing had conked out on us, and I was thinking seriously of “going Western” on it by taking my trusty Smith & Wesson revolver and putting it “out of its misery”.

After making a few calls to local car rental places, it was Enterprise, emerging like a knight on a white horse, to sweep John away back to their office to sign the papers. Time crept by like a hundred year-old man until a vehicle turned in the drive and zoomed toward us, leaving a thick, choking plume of dust in its wake. The boys and I swarmed out the front door, and watched in shock as John stepped out of a gunmetal gray Ford Freewind minivan.

Looking like the Cheshire cat, John explained Enterprise had made a mistake in their reservations; they were unable to give us the standard size car we reserved; instead, they gave us a mini-van for the same cost. Score!

Then, a tender look on his deeply tanned face, he took a Styrofoam cup out of the cup holder and handed it to me. “I had it specially blended for you,” he said, handing me the cup. “It’s peppermint mocha java; I hope you like it.”

Like it? It could have been muddy water in the cup, and it still would have tasted sweet and smooth to me. The fact my hubby loved me enough to go to the trouble of bringing me the coffee, made me almost bawl like a baby. He’s like that though; he knows little things mean the most to me. When my uncle died suddenly, he wiped away my tears and held me while I wept. Later that day, he disappeared and returned an hour later, holding a bouquet of roses. “I thought you might like these,” he said. My wonderful, sweet hubby.

Anyway, I got off track. . .back to the post.

The kids hopped like bunnies into the van, and feeling I was “on top of the world,” I drove the van into town to do the grocery shopping. I was in an extremely good mood, and in an even better one when NOTHING HAPPENED at the store. Can you believe it!

Not even the arduous task of unloading the groceries from the van when we got home was enough to dampen our spirits. “Well, I planned a road trip to Rockport,” John grunted as he heaved the bag of dog food into the food bin.

“Really, when are we leaving?” I asked.

“Just as soon as we unload the groceries, eat lunch, and pack.”

I stared dumbly in shock at my hubby, and recovered just in time to keep the carton of eggs from hitting the ground. “Today? We’re going today?” I croaked hoarsely. I ran my hand through my hair and glanced frantically around the living room; it looked like a disaster area. Bags of groceries sat on the floor, and an overflowing basket of laundry sat on the couch, waiting to be folded and put away. “Let’s get busy then,” I commanded.

The house was a beehive of activity as I directed family like a traffic cop, and ran around like a disgruntled goose. Don’t ask m how I did it, but in an hour, dishes were in the dishwasher, children and pets were fed (the kids were thankful I didn’t mistakenly give them kibble) clothes were packed, and we were on the road for yet another adventure!

Tune in tomorrow when: Deb screams like a banshee in the woods.