Church, Sizzler, & Backroads

Today before pastor started our service he asked those in attendance what they could remember they were told as youngsters that stuck with them through the years as good advice. I had a really hard time holding on to mine while others shared things like, “a job worth doing is worth doing right”, “no matter where you go, there you are” (a little bit of Buckaroo Banzai influence I suspect), “too many cooks spoil the broth”, “a bad day fishing is better than a good day working”, “actions speak louder than words”, things like that. Then there was a lengthy pause leaving us with dead air, and I hate that. When it happens it seems that I’m always the one who winds up filling in that space and it happened again this morning, much to Diane’s dismay, when I shared “don’t eat yellow snow”.

After the noise of everyone’s head swiveling in my direction, the silence descended once again for a moment, then Pastor quickly moved on to the next item in the bulletin. It may have been communion, but I’m not sure. The rest of the service went just fine but Karma caught up to me out by the mower shed while I was walking around waiting for Diane and her Mom, Jean. There’s a short ramp leading up to the doors and I stepped on it. Normally that’s not a problem, but it’s been raining squirrels and chipmunks lately so it was wet and very slippery, something I remembered was true when my foot was about an inch from the surface. By that time, of course, my body was committed to taking that step so I prepared as best I could for the excitement of the fall.

When my foot slipped I went into slow motion mode, analyzing everything around me to ensure there were no sharp objects waiting to penetrate my normally waterproof exterior, then I looked for a likely spot to place my left hand in such a manner that my wrist wouldn’t snap in half. I found that spot OK, but my balance was a bit off so after making land fall I was poised over the ramp a little too far and could not keep myself from finally sitting on it with my next to last pair of nice Dockers. It was a slimy mess, a lot like something that might have come from an ox’s nose.

Since I didn’t hear anything snap, or crack, I knew it would be bet if I regained a vertical stance because I knew the pain was coming. Then I ran to wash my hands warning Diane, as I passed her on the basement steps on my way to the kitchen sink, that I was going to be in severe pain tomorrow. Then I had her look at the back of my pants to see what kind of damage they had suffered, but she said they looked fine. Then I took a towel and wiped all the gunk from my rear and showed her what she’d missed. Can’t blame her really, because my Dockers are dark brown as was the stuff I sat in.

I took the towel to the Buick so sit on when we left because I didn’t want to mess up the seat, then we departed on a scheduled trip to Sizzler, and an impromptu trip down the Washington side of the Columbia River to see what St. Helens looked like to the people who lived over there. While at Sizzler I ate eight chicken wings two chicken legs a modest salad and a soup bowel full of ice cream. Substantial, but not a record because I’m working on portion control.

Although the I-5 freeway would have made the trip much faster, I sat in the back with my iPad giving left/right directions as I studied our location on Google Maps. The goal was to keep us off the freeway as we made the 20+ mile trip from Longview to Woodland and I did a remarkable job. I know that’s true because both Diane and Mom said so. It was a really nice trip on a whole bunch of roads that none of us had ever travelled before.

Then we went back home to rescue the dogs, dropping Mom at her house on the way. Here’s what the rain has done to Milton Creek that normally runs peacefully through her back yard …