Some Days are Poop

This weekend has had its challenges.  In fact, I think our life has been a bit of a country song lately.  It's not the perfect country song, mind you, because nothing that happened involved "Mama" or "Trains", but I am about to whine for 3 to 4 minutes about pick-up trucks. That's got to count for something.

I am tortured by the following John Denver song that keeps playing in my head like a broken record:

♪♫"Some days are diamonds some days are stones
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone
Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones
Some days are diamonds some days are stones."♪♫

If you know this old country song, I hope it gets stuck in your head, and out of mine.

If you don't know this song, feel fortunate....or play it on YouTube to get acquainted with the country classics.

Anyway, back to the whining.

It all started when I received a call from my Lover yesterday morning.  He was on his way to feed cattle, and broke down on the highway.  Here's what you need to know:

-It was -13 degrees F. outside
-The roads were a solid sheet of ice.
-I had to leave the comfort of my wood stove.
-I had to change out of my old sweats and into snow clothes to face the frozen Tundra.
+The only positive side, was that I was wearing my beloved Sorrel snow boots.


So I bundled up our girls, and we plowed our way out of the driveway to make our daring rescue of the menfolk down the highway.  I pulled up in front of my husband, and while he was hooking up the tow strap, a sheriff came to "secure the scene"....in other words, he wanted to watch the rodeo that was about to commence.

The plan: I would wait for traffic to clear, pull the old truck in sort of a U-turn involving a trailer park turn-out, then proceed to tow him back home, down the treacherous icy hills involving many turns.

The Sheriff decided to stop oncoming traffic and yelled for me to go.  I tightened the slack and then gunned it!!!

(Two things you should know right now)

1.The old truck had no power steering, or brakes...because it was broke down.
2.I am not a professional towing woman.  I know I look like a tow truck driver, but I'm really just a stay-at-home mom.

What commenced at this point was all a big blur.  I spun out on the ice, and finally got the trucks moving, and then I had to make the U-turn into the trailer park turn-out which involved a bit of a sling shot effect on my husband's truck.

Next I had to re-enter traffic.  I made the mistake of looking in the rear-view mirror.  All I could see were my husbands arms flailing towards me and lips moving in what appeared to be some type of communications attempt.  I'm pretty sure there were unkind words flying in the other truck, but who has time to read lips when you're on a mission of this magnitude? Not me.

If I stopped on the ice too fast, he'd rear-end me.  If I stopped too slow, I'd slide right past my turn.

We descended down the large icy hill, and made a sharp right turn at the bottom of it.  Just before I turned, I motioned to an approaching truck to stay out of the way.  I was about to pull a move I learned while watching "Dukes of Hazard" as a little girl.  My back tires spun sideways, and I whipped my lover onto the road behind me.  Once again I saw flailing arms and gestures of communication.  I then decided to keep my eyes solely focused on the road ahead.  I didn't want to take any chances.

Once I got him home safely, he started mumbling things about his life flashing before his eyes, but all I could think about was the fact that I was now an "experienced" tow driver.  "That was pretty awesome!" I said.

Turns out, the fuel line heater went out on the truck, and the diesel gelled up.  Because we live in a small town, and it was New Years, it was going to be 3 days before we could get the part.  My husband used a little cowboy ingenuity to bypass the problem.  By the time we were done feeding cattle, and chipping ice, it was late in the afternoon, and all of our plans for the day were shot.

Today:

It was 6:45 a.m. and the temperature outside was 0 degrees F.  My husband had to lead the worship service at church, and he didn't trust the old truck to get the rest of the family there safely by 8:00 a.m. when the service started, so we all drove together in the dark of the early morning.  I dropped him off, and then me and the kids headed to Mc Donalds to eat breakfast while he warmed up with the pianist.

We walked outside after we were done eating, and I discovered that the back passenger's side tire was flat.  I slowly drove right next door to a gas station to air it up.  I was wearing 3 inch heels, and a pea coat.  I looked for some type of gloves in the truck...because it's still 0 degrees outside.  I find 3 left hand gloves.  No right hands.  I proceed to put on one leather glove covered in hay, and one rubber glove that goes on backwards. My feet were frozen, and I was wishing I had gone with comfort over fashion this morning, and wore my Sorrels. I must have looked helpless because a nice man came to diagnose the problem.

"Flat tire?" he asked.

Here's how I wanted to answer:

"Nah, those other three just swelled right  up on me!"

(I didn't say this though, because I didn't want to have to repent just before church started.)

I aired up the tire, but the air was hissing out nearly as fast as I put it in. Church was only a mile away, and every tire shop on the mountain was closed because it was Sunday, so I limped it over to church.

At least 25 people notified us of our flat tire that morning in church. 

I wanted to wear a badge that said, "I'm aware of the flat tire. Thank you."

After my hubby was done singing, he had to change the tire, and put the spare on in his church clothes....in the snow.  Poor guy.  Turns out, the tire was beyond repair.  That was not what I wanted to hear...in my 3 inch heels...in the church parking lot...in the snow.

Some days are just poop.

I am praising God that this tire didn't go flat while we were pulling a load of cattle home through the Salt River Canyon.

I am praising God that the other truck didn't break down while pulling a full load of cattle over to our winter pasture.

I am praising God that he has protected us and our livestock through this lousy weather.

I am praising God that He is merciful, and tomorrow is a new day.

My feet are finally thawed out from my poor choice in footwear, and I never want to leave home without my snow boots again.  I immediately went home to search for the right hands to the gloves in the truck.  I found none of them.

Next week, I will throw fashion to the wind, and wear my Carhartt jacket, work gloves, and Sorrel snow boots to church...just in case.