Sunday, August 22, 2010

I'm blaming it all on

Jason Voorhees.
Next Friday the 13th, I'm thinking I just need to stay at home.
Although the following story may reflect actual events, names and places have been changed in order to protect the identity of those involved.

We knew about THE wedding way in advance.
I reserved "mean Aunt Diane" as a babysitter as soon as we knew the date of the wedding.
Little did we know that "Lacrosse Practice" would be scheduled for that same night, along with "mean Aunt Diane" closing on a house at the last minute and moving, all in the same day.
We also didn't know that "mean Aunt Diane" would end up in the hospital following the events of this day.
We took the day off work to help with the move.
The move that took place in the middle of nowhere "Egypt" - in August - with an Alabama humidity level of 121%.
Being the good little planner that I am, I knew that in order to leave "Egypt" and have enough time to go home, get ready for the wedding and then pick up the kids and get them back home and settled for the evening, I would have to leave the middle of nowhere by 2:00 p.m.
Promptly at 2:00 p.m., I got into my car, turned the key and nothing happened.
Not even a little whimper from my poor car.
My car had slipped into a coma and was completely unresponsive and according to my local State Farm agent, it would take an eternity for a tow truck to locate our whereabouts in the middle of "Egypt".
Had I known, I would have left a trail of breadcrumbs.
Thank goodness that Chris and my brother were in the middle of "Egypt" with me, because we made the decision to leave my car so that we could still hopefully make it to the wedding on time.

After a hurried afternoon, we managed to get it all together...and as we walked out our front door for a quick picture, this amazing bolt of lightening came out of nowhere, followed by a monsoon.
Thank goodness that the humidity ruined my hair before the rain could get to it.

We gave up on picture time and ran to our transportation for the evening. The transportation for the evening just so happened to be my husband's truck.
Not exactly my first choice for an evening out, but by this point, I was just happy to be going out.
When we arrived at the private club and pulled up to valet, I wanted nothing more than to just crawl onto the floor and hide.
The sight before us went something a little like this:
....then us:
Toyota truck with rubber floor mats and neoprene seat covers.
Not only did I feel like the valet guy was smirking as he walked up to us, but there was just no ladylike way to emerge from a truck in four-inch heels, no running boards and my dress clinging to the neoprene covered seat.
You know...the only thing missing was a rebel flag and a gun rack.
Talk about class...had it been a cruise ship, we would have been down on the lower decks having an evening drink with Leonardo DeCaprio.

At least the sunset was beautiful...Jason Voorhees continued to rub his luck all over us for the next week as we dealt with "mean Aunt Diane" having a heart attack and being put into the hospital and having surgery, my two children becoming incredibly sick and every little nit picky thing that could go wrong - did.
I am almost certain that we are emerging from the grasp of Friday the 13th...although, I feel entirely sure that my favorite aunt - "Aunt Air"(she has a new nickname thanks to me not proofreading a text) and I am now banned from one of the local hospitals. was bad, bad, bad.
Thankfully, "mean Aunt Diane" is at home recovering, I haven't received an official restraining order from the local hospital and there has been no official communication banning Toyota Trucks from entering any local private clubs.

Life is good...