The Rollaway Cart

As Emily would say, “Let me tell you about the rollaway cart!” 

Recently my daughter and family moved into their first house.  With the packing, moving, working, closing, Grandpa and I came to town for a few days to keep the girls.   We arrived on Monday.    We chose a nearby hotel with a suite so we could have kitchen, living room and a bedroom to put Molly down in a quiet place.  It also served a hot breakfast & dinner, which was perfect for us with a 4 yr old and 1 yr old. 

We checked in first to unload our baggage before picking up the girls and all the things that accompany little ones of that age group.   When we picked them up, the trunk of the car quickly refilled with suitcases, pack-n-play, favorite dolls and stuffed animals, diaper bag, and blankets that are a must at nighttime.  At the hotel, Emily became our official elevator button pusher:  3 for the floor to our room, 1 for the floor at mealtime and to get to the pool.   There were lots of mini-adventures during the first 24 hours – Molly’s haz-mat diaper, going to breakfast with wrong way Mouse and wrong way Molly, and Grandpa taking Emily swimming – before Grandpa had to leave to get back to work.  Dropping him off at the airport, I noticed both the girls were napping.  It would be my last moments of quiet since I’d be keeping them by myself on our last hotel night.  Back at the room we had a fun bubble-splash bath and we all slept soundly that night.

My plan was to check out the next morning and take them to their new home to get settled.  That morning Emily & I read her favorite Bible stories, built pillow houses for Mouse and Rudolph while Molly busied herself trying to open every door, cabinet, and window without success.   I began to corral our things for packing onto a bellman’s cart while they played.  We had suitcase, pack-n-play, diaper bag, pillows, toys, gift bags – some ransacked & some saved for opening at the new house – and groceries.  I loaded and re-loaded until everything was arranged and all I had left was the pack-n-play.  Molly had a fresh diaper and a full bottle, Emily was busy helping “ride herd” on this 13 month toddler whom Grandpa had dubbed Wrong Way Molly.  Every time you put her down she toddled off in exactly the wrong direction!  Wrong Way Molly also has a thing for hiding her bottle – she has a knack for throwing it into drawers, corners, couch cushions – anywhere it will be difficult to find. 

The girls followed me into the bedroom where I proceeded to collapse the pack-n-play.  I have one at home and they are SO convenient, easy to put up and take down.  At least mine is.  This one was a bear.  I re-read the directions and tried again, succeeding only in getting it halfway folded.  It was getting close to check out time, the girls were getting hungry and I was getting quite frustrated.  After a few minutes, Emily piped up:  “Grandma, do you know what my mommy does when she’s frust-erated?”  “No, Emily, tell me.”  “She just tries and tries 100 times until she gets it.  That’s what you have to do.”  Indeed.  I thanked her, calmed down and tried again.  But time won out, and I ended up cramming the ¾ folded contraption unbagged on top of the luggage on our cart.  It would have to do.

The next challenge was how to safely maneuver the loaded cart and Wrong Way Molly out the door, into the elevator, down to the ground floor and out to the car with only a 4 yr old to help me.  But then, Emily is no average 4 yr old – she stepped up into a leadership role.  While she held the heavy room door open, I held Molly firmly on one hip and with my free hand guided the cart out into the hallway, pocketing a room key at the last minute just in case I’d missed something.  Emily was our line leader, steering the cart and singing the whole way as I pushed from behind.  She pushed the elevator button, and when it opened I told her to wait in the hallway until I could position the cart inside the cab.  She did, but it took me a long time to get the cart in.  As I was just about to tell her to step in, the doors closed, leaving a stranded Emily in the hallway with her Grandma & sister inside the elevator!  Thankfully I found the “open” button quickly.  The doors opened and I could see on Emily’s face it was almost panic time.  She ran in and got right by my side – that was too close a call.  The thought of her left alone up there if I hadn’t been able to stop the elevator in time unnerved me.  I clasped her hand tightly and when we arrived at the ground floor we managed to get the cart and us out all together.

Feeling relieved, we started down the hallway.  Molly began to fuss and I reached for her bottle.  It was not in her hand or the diaper bag.  Yikes!! THAT was one item we had to have and quickly.  Emily and I looked up and down the hallway but no bottle in sight.  Slowly I realized she must have dropped it on the way or thrown it somewhere in the room.

Talk about a dilemma.  I wasn’t about to make that trip up to the room again with the kids and cart, and I certainly wasn’t about to leave Emily with our cart to go look for the bottle.  There was only 1 option.  I said a prayer of protection for the cart, took Emily’s hand and said, “Let’s go find Molly’s bottle.”  Emily was concerned about our things and what if they were gone when we got back.  So was I, but we agreed God would have to take care of it.

Back down the hall, push the elevator button, back to the 3^rd floor, down the hall to Room 327.  Thank you God for the room key in my pocket!  We entered the room and began the search.  After a frantic few minutes I spotted the bottle down in an empty brown shopping bag right where Molly had thrown it, probably while I was wrestling the pack-n-play, too busy to notice.

One final look around and then we were off – this time with bottle clutched in Molly’s hand.  Down the hall, into the elevator, push the buttons, spilled out onto the 1^st floor and down that hall.  Was the cart sill there?  YES!  Thank you God!  As we started pushing an angel disguised as a building maintenance man rounded the corner and offered to help.  We gladly accepted, and in moments we were safely outside.  We thanked Mr. Martinez and I assessed the situation.  My car was 4 spaces over from the ramp we’d have to use.  It was almost noon on a hot June day and I was sweating already.  I decided to have Emily stand by the cart at the sidewalk’s edge, and more importantly in the shade.  I instructed her not to move, to stay by the cart and watch me as I deposited Molly in the car and moved it closer so we could load it.  She assured me she wouldn’t move and I knew I could keep my eye on her.  I left her holding a gift bag with brightly colored tissue stretching up out of the top.

I unlocked the car and started the AC.  Then around to the back to secure Molly in her car seat.  Back in the driver seat I adjusted the air vents and pressed “max”.  With the car in reverse I turned to look over my right shoulder before backing out and did a double take as I saw our cart, packed to the gills, speeding across the parking lot by itself!  Holy Hawks!!  Where was Emily?  What if she ran after it??

I rammed the gearshift into park, flung the door open and heard, “Grandma, Grandma!”  I ran over to Emily, standing exactly where I’d left her, bag in hand, a totally bewildered expression on her face.  “Emily, are you OK?  Good girl for NOT running into the parking lot.  What happened?”  “Well, I was going to hang the bag on a hook on the cart but I never got to because the cart just rolled away!”  Looking to the direction she was pointing, I saw our Rollaway Cart.  Yes, that was definitely ours:  3 suitcases, pillows, a Cinderella sleeping bag, Bear & Mouse hanging on for dear life, bag of groceries, laptop bag, diaper bag, gift bags, & cpap bags hanging from hooks on the side topped off with Grandpa’s wet swim trunks spread over the top bars to dry.  Totally a Beverly Hillbillies look.  I looked back at Emily, waiting expectantly to see how I would react.  She didn’t know if she should be scared, worried, laugh or prepare for rebuke.  All of a sudden, I was done.  Toast.  The scare of Emily almost stranded alone on the 3^rd floor, anxiety over leaving the cart unattended, frantic search for Molly’s bottle, wrestling with the #$&(^$#)@ pack-n-play, and now the Rollaway Cart, stopped by a curb, openly displaying the guts of our hotel stay for all to see, but amazingly intact.  I just lost it.  I started to laugh.  And I kept laughing, big belly laughs, hysterical double-you-over laughter that caused laugh-tears to roll down my cheeks.  Emily started to laugh too. 

So there we were.  Laughing uncontrollably in a Hyatt hotel parking lot at high noon on a hot summer day with my baby granddaughter unattended in my car running with the AC full blast and door wide open, halfway backed out of the parking space, and our rollaway bellman cart illegally parked catty-wampus next to a curb in the middle of the hotel parking lot.

It was probably only a minute, but it seemed like forever before I could start to stop laughing.  Actually, Emily and I are still laughing about the Rollaway Cart, but that day we were able to get it under control enough to pack the car and drive to their new house where Mom & Dad awaited their girls.   Still chuckling, I gathered myself and got us back on track.  Telling Emily to use the sidewalk to go to the car to check on Molly, I headed over to the Rollaway Cart and hauled it back to where Emily was faithfully waiting.  Molly was happily drinking her milk, unaware of our hair-raising adventures.  As I strapped Emily in we looked at each other and started laughing again.  The entire rest of the day it went like that.  We’d be going about our business and exchange a glance and start laughing all over again.  At supper Emily said, “I’m still laughing about the Rollaway Cart!” so we told the story again to Mom and Dad.  Weeks later, she came to visit me at work and as we lunched with co-workers she would say to each new person who entered the room, “Let me tell you about the Rollaway Cart……”

Anniversary Adventures – The Beach

What is it about the beach and the sight of the endless ocean that has such an effect on me?  The feel of soft dry sand under my feet or the cool wet sand as I stand amid the waves in their rhythmic quiet crashing all around me, their soothing sound washing over me.  The contrast of the blues of the water with the lighter blue of the sky, and the wind blowing refreshingly over my skin.   The warmth of the sun, the lack of a clock anywhere, the absolute freedom to just be.  The specialness of a gorgeous new swimsuit (with the certainty that pictures of me in it will never, ever make it to Facebook).

We spent the last day of our trip at the beach.  All of it.  Paul convinced me that we could drive the Nissan on the beach, even though it was practically as low to the ground as a snake and is front wheel drive, and he was right.  As long as you drive close to the water where the sand is packed you can go for miles.  Of course, at times that presents a bit of an issue when other cars or people are parked right in your path.  That happened to us one night earlier, and in our effort to go around we got stuck.  Fortunately the beach was more populated that evening and within 30 seconds a couple of guys in an old beat up pickup stopped, handed us a shovel, and I got to drive on the beach – sort of – while my husband dug the car out.  One of those experiences I don’t mind saying I had now that it is behind me, and a welcome reminder of how good it is to help strangers.

For this beach trip we drove to the last access point before the roads were completely blocked with sand dunes.  We paid, were handed a plastic trash bag and told if we picked up some trash and brought it back upon exit we’d get half the fee returned.  Cool, I’m an unlitterbug at heart, plus that would give Paul something to jack with as I sat relaxing.

I did do some sitting and relaxing, especially later in the day as the sun became more intense.  But I found myself absolutely drawn to the hidden treasure of sea shells just waiting to be discovered.  There were literally miles of them – the recent storms had washed up thousands on the shore.  I have always loved sea shells, and each time I go to the beach I try to collect a few special ones.  This trip I packed an entire 6-pack size cooler with them.  I found tiny delicate ones, unbroken and perfectly formed with a small hole just the right size for stringing onto a necklace for a granddaughter.  We found several large, grapefruit size shells, unbroken yet pitted by sand and water.  There were a few unique shaped ones with colors that shone when you placed them under the water.  Some were smooth, some had ridges.  So many shades of blues, warm browns, tan and sand colors, bright white and a few in the pink family.  I searched for hours, marveling at the selection and hoping to find that perfect conch.  It is unusual to find one of those unbroken; I’ve only found one like that before, and this time all I saw were pieces that told me a few had been here, likely broken in the transfer from the deep to the surface.

Lunch was Leftovers with a Twist.  Paul is especially good at this.  Who knew you could take delicious fresh, caught-yesterday-and-prepared-by-a-gourmet chef trout with a side of garlic-creamed spinach and rice and use it as a dip for chips, Melba toast or rice cakes?  And if you are my husband you top it with homemade queso, place some lettuce leaves on your plate for salad, a side of cheese and crackers, and voila, a fancy feast beachside.   Delightful.

That was one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in years.   Good mix of conversation and silence against the backdrop of that beautiful scene and pleasant sounds that only God’s nature can make.  Time to beach comb, lie  in the sun, rest in the shade, walk in the water, and reflect on the blessings God has poured out on me.  In other decades I’ve had my share of tumultuous times; the thought of them enables me to fully savor the sweetness of times like these.  Yes, we made some memories this trip, one that will always rank among “the best ever.”

Anniversary Adventures, Part 3 - Fishing Can Be Fun, Who Knew?

My husband made it very clear when we first decided to go to S. Padre for this year’s anniversary trip that he wanted to go fishing – hopefully a day trip but minimum ½ day.  That was fine with me, but then he said he wanted me to go with him.  Fishing.  On our anniversary.   I love fish, but only eating it – I’m a city girl, not interested in trying to bait a hook or cast a line or heaven forbid clean it.    But I felt it was the least I could do, go on a fishing trip with him if it would make him that happy.  Especially since many of the things were doing were things I wanted to do.  We agreed on ½ a day trip with a guide, and he would make all the arrangements.

On Day 3 he found the captain he wanted, finalized the trip and returned to the condo excitedly telling me all about Captain Cliff and how great it was going to be and how we got a great morning time slot and all we had to do was be there at 7:00 a.m.   The Capt. would teach me everything I needed to know about how to fish.   I’m not exactly a morning person but a promise is a promise.  I dutifully set the alarm (one time during this vacation wouldn’t kill me) and the coffeepot for 6 the next morning.

It wasn’t the same as waking up naturally but it was doable.  Plus there was less than zero need to fix hair or do makeup.  We packed our cooler of water and snacks and arrived at the dock promptly at 7.   Capt Cliff was there waiting for us, leaning against the door frame, no doubt sizing up ‘the wife’, remembering what he had been told about my complete lack of knowledge of all things fish and wondering what he had signed up for.  

We walked out to the boat.   I don’t know what I was expected but it wasn’t very big, or at least it didn’t seem that way to me.  But once we went aboard, found our seats and settled in for the ride way out into the bay it was quite nice.  The weather was perfect – cloudy, cool but not too windy and only a few other fishermen were out.  Capt. Cliff is a very nice man with a calm voice, even temperament, decades of experience and plenty of patience.  As I would discover, he also had the heart of a teacher which made all the difference for me. 

He stopped the boat at the first spot and climbed down from his seat to show me the ropes.  Capt. Cliff has four rules for fishing:  1) grip the rod securely with the reel stem between middle and ring finger, 2) position the line correctly, 3) open the bail, 4) always have both hands on the rod.  I’m a rules and regulations kind of a gal, so I figured I could do this.  I learned that there are actually techniques to fishing – things like stance, when to release the line, how to set the hook, how to free your hook from grass, and how to land both small and big fish. 

As the morning progressed, I realized I was enjoying myself!  My dad and brothers would never believe Paul got me to go fishing.  I actually caught 3 fish, one of them a pretty decent size.  Got my picture taken with the Capt. and The Fish – and the brothers who would definitely want to see proof.   Capt. Cliff has a great sense of humor, and when he saw I was practicing what he taught he began to give me other ‘tips and tricks’ too.  How to store your rod safely with the hook in just the right place while the boat was in motion or you weren’t using it.  How to untangle a line that got crossed with another fisherman’s line (I had to use this one several times) and when to set the hook so your fish doesn’t get away.  I had to learn that the smaller fish got pulled into the boat on the hook but the bigger ones have to be brought in with a net.  When the net is used, you have to make sure to keep the fish under the water but not too close to the boat and definitely don’t let the fish go under the boat.  That I could do because it meant I was the boss of that fish – bossy I can do :)    Heck, he even loaned me a pair of polarized sunglasses so I could distinguish the different colors of the water and which areas make a good fishing hole. 

The time really went by quickly, although towards the end of our 5 hour journey I was starting to feel muscles I hadn’t used recently from the casting and reeling in.  When the trip was over and we arrived back at the dock, we had caught our limit – 10 beautiful speckled trout ‘in the box’ (that’s the technical fisherman term for ones that are big enough to keep as opposed to all the smaller ones you catch but have to release).   But here’s the cool part:  they clean them for you!! And bag them up too.  Now THAT’s the kind of fishing I can do.  I won’t say I’m chomping at the bit to go right back out for another fishing journey.  But I must admit that fishing really can be fun – who knew??     

Anniversary Adventure - Part 2, The Luxurious Life

When we arrived last night, Paul went up first to open the front door and be ready to prepare me if necessary.  As I slogged up the slippery steps, bags on each shoulder and hands full, he called out, “Honey, come in here, it’s really nice.”  Hmmm, he didn’t sound like he was kidding, maybe we had lucked out with this place.

I dropped the bags on the porch and stepped inside.  High ceilings, big rooms, perfectly selected Pottery Barn furniture, flat screen TV, completely equipped kitchen with lovely granite counter tops – and yes, a coffee maker with automatic timer.  Separate living and eating areas, 2 baths, 2 bedrooms with comfy and pretty bedding in the master and closets stocked with beach accessories.  Ah yes, the trip was shaping up quite nicely.   THIS is my idea of a vacation.

We settled in then accessed email by phone looking for ‘Paul’s Survival Guide’ Becky had sent earlier, coming to the rescue with the only thing we managed to leave behind – all the intel about restaurants & recommendations.  We chose Dirty Al’s for dinner on this arrival night; the shrimp and atmosphere did not disappoint :)

One of the best things about being on vacation is not waking up to the alarm clock.  Day 2 dawned a bit hazy but with the promise of a gorgeous sunny day, and I slowly opened my eyes to the realization that I really was on vacation and I really didn’t have to go to work and I really could sleep as late as I wanted.  I made it until 7:30 – what can I say, it’s my natural wake up time and as long as I’m rested it works for me.

One of the best things about ANY morning is waking to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.  Whoever invented the automatic timer on a coffee maker deserves a medal.   After a leisurely cup we decided to make the one block walk to the beach and take a stroll, getting the lay of the land.   As we walked across the sand to the peaceful sound of the ocean waves and the steady cool wind Paul quipped that he “loved long walks on the beach.”   If he had a Facebook page I’d post that comment just to see the witty comebacks of his friends. 

On our way back we spotted the Café on the Beach, a must on our list for breakfast.  We sat at a table overlooking the water, savoring the eggs cooked to perfection, toast from a variety of breads, superb bacon, and just the right amount of fresh juicy fruit.  I could feel myself starting to relax.

The one item I didn’t own to pack for the beach was The Right Hat.  The Right Hat is very important:  it must be a perfect fit with elastic to hold it securely against the wind; not too wide or floppy a brim or you’ll sail away in these winds like the flying nun; able to be folded without losing it’s shape; and of course pretty and stylish.  To my delight Paul was quite happy to take me shopping for one, and as soon as we found it we planned to head to the beach for the afternoon.   There aren’t that many shops on the island, but we hit almost every one.  I found The Right Hat at Renee’s, the first store we went to, but was hoping to find a less expensive version elsewhere.   I found gorgeous sundresses, fabulous swimsuits and sandals to die for, but no other hats like that one.  When the shopping excursion ended, I sat happily in the car patting my big shopping bag with a new pair of sandals, a new swimsuit, new sundress, and The Right Hat.  Paul’s wallet was much lighter and I was feeling extremely spoiled – just the way I like it :)

Our afternoon at the beach was so relaxing, and a reminder that married couples need to take time out just to be with each other and do things together for fun, strengthening the marital commitment in the process.  Plus I got some good sun, which I really wanted to do.  The people watching can’t be beat – we watched as one couple took turns burying each other in the sand, creating designs on top of the burial mound and taking pictures.  The kicker was that the first one to be buried was the girl, who had apparently fallen fast asleep on the beach.  We couldn’t figure out why she was so quiet and the guy kept smiling widely and laughing to himself as he arranged the sand on top of her.  When his masterpiece was done he took a picture with his cell phone, partially dug her right arm out of the sand and yanked on it to wake her up, then raced out into the water.  She was buried in up to her neck and it took her several minutes to dig herself out.  When she did, she too raced into the water but with a different motive than his.  Let’s just say that when they came back to their chairs on the sand, he submitted to her burying him in the sand, with his help, and she took her time to get him completely covered with an elaborate picture carved in the sand before she slowly got the camera, took several pictures and satisfied, smiled and sat down.  To her credit, she did end up helping him to dig out, and he needed it.

Dinner at Gabriellas.  Oh my, how can I describe it.   A lovely old world style Italian place with the most attentive (but not too) wait staff you could wish for and food that is just out of this world.  Paul had a seafood pasta dish, and I had fish with a delectable jalapeno-butter-oil-garlic sauce served on a light bed of spaghetti.   A slice of Italian wedding cake to celebrate our anniversary completed the heavenly meal.  Perfect end to a perfect day.

Anniversary Adventure - Part 1

If you’ve seen the movie National Lampoon Vacation you’ll have an idea of how our trip began.   With the perspective of a couple of days I can now call it an adventure, but I wasn’t in too forgiving a mood Thursday.  After driving most of Wednesday night for the Surprise, I had planned to pack for the 6 day trip on Wednesday morning before we left.   But first I had to blog about the Surprise since I was still enjoying the “after Surprise glow” the following morning. 

As soon as I hit “save” and prepared for a final read-through, I heard a loud, thunderous boom and immediately the power went out.  Thank God I’m in the habit of saving while I write.  It had started to rain, for which we were very thankful – heck, I’ve been praying for rain for weeks now.   The ending entry in my prayer journal for Wednesday was “we’ll drive in it all the way, Lord, just let it rain, rain, rain!!”   God certainly seemed to enjoy answering that prayer on Thursday.  

As the rain’s intensity increased it began blowing sideways.  I realized all the things I still had on the upstairs back porch from Monday’s new carpet install were going to get soaked.  Fragile and photo items were all in sealed plastic, but the furniture was just draped in sheets (it looked pretty Jed Clampitt out there).   Since there was no light in the house I opened the doors and started hauling things in – so much for my plan to bring things in a little at a time, rearranging and organizing as I went. 

When the power went out around 8:00 a.m. that morning, my husband had taken the Duke (of the famous Duke Disaster, see Blog in January) out for a walk before we left.  They came back soaking wet, and reported that the power was out for blocks around – a transformer had gone out.  It was going to be a while before we had power.  We busted out the flashlights and began packing.  I had gathered all the clothes already, it was just a matter of arranging them in suitcases.   Apparently this would be a trip I would not embark on with my hair done or any makeup – I needed light to make that happen.  I hated to start an anniversary trip looking like Ellie Mae on a bad hair day but I had no choice.

Suddenly the lights came on and fans roared back to life.  Now I could get ready.  I went to the bathroom to plug in the flat iron and pulled out the putty knife for my makeup.  Then the power went off.  Back to the bedroom to pack by flashlights.   The next time the power brought the lights on I raced to the bathroom – the flat iron got a good 30 seconds of electricity, almost enough to do 2 sections of hair.  Lovely.  To heck with that, just finishing packing and go.   I brought a packed bag downstairs and found my husband in the kitchen, packing what looked like leftovers into a very small cooler.   When I asked what it was for he calmly stated that we would just have a snack lunch on the road and then eat out when we got to South Padre.  Not exactly my idea of lunch on the first day of our anniversary trip with a 6 hour drive ahead of us. 

As we pulled out of the driveway I had quite the attitude about the lunch situation.  I figured we’d at least stop and get something on the way, but nooooo, his idea was for me to handle slimy lunch meat, processed cheese slices and oh by the way here is a bell pepper and pocket knife could you slice that up too?   I didn’t know I was going to have to ‘cook’ on this trip.  Too bad I hadn’t taken time to read my devotional that morning.  When I read it later it spoke directly to my crappy, selfish attitude:  don’t let petty grievances occupy emotional space, turn your energy to the challenges.  Basically, ‘get over yourself’.  Which I was able to do after a couple of hours of pouting and acting childish, while my husband wisely remained silent, knowing there would be calm after the brief storm.  Good man.

It rained hard, cats and dogs and elephants and rhinoceroses hard, the entire 6 ½ hour drive.  Like I said, God was truly enjoying bring answer to all the prayers for rain.  Thankfully I didn’t have to drive, it’s so grueling to drive in rain that hard, looking for your exit in lunch hour traffic in a large city, then hoping you don’t miss your next one after 60 miles of gripping the steering wheel to avoid hydroplaning.  It worked for me though, I had a captive audience so I read out loud, asked questions, and in general used up a lot of my words for that day.   And we had lunchmeat-cheese-bell pepper roll ups to sustain us :)

At one point I had to stop for a restroom break, regardless of the pelting rain.  We found one truck stop in Kingsville that still had power, and after taking the 4 steps to the entrance I was soaked.  It was a good thing after all that I hadn’t spent time on hair or makeup, it would have been totally wasted.  Back on the road for the last couple of hours.  We gassed up in Port Isabel and I agreed to drive the last little bit of the trip.  Which involved a long causeway bridge, invoking my fear of driving over long bridges.  The experience was especially nerve racking given the high winds, driving rain, and other drivers who felt no need to go slow.

The nav system took us right to the front door of the rented condo, which we had never seen.  The outside looked nice, but with the day we’d had who knew what awaited us inside.   We had a good deal on the price, so I envisioned scratchy starched sheets, tiny kitchen table with matching metal chairs, and broken plumbing.  Sure hope they at least had a coffee pot. 

As we started unpacking the car and carrying bags up the stairs, it began to rain harder.

Surprise!

My brother Shawn and I have always been close (except for when he was ages 11 – 16 and COMPLETELY annoying).  As an adult he’s smart, witty, charming and handsome (just ask him) with a great sense of humor – a real ‘pull my finger’ kind of guy.  He has lots of friends, is well-respected in his firefighting profession, and is beloved by his family.  His wife Vicki knows the 1 or 2 flaws that I’m sure exist, but I don’t have to live with him so I can’t speak to those.   He’s the perfect person to plan a surprise 50^th party for, IF you can pull if off.  Which is exactly what our family did last night.

Our family’s tradition is to celebrate birthdays 2 or 3 times a year.  We all gather to exchange cards and gifts for the giftees and enjoy the laughter and incomparable wit that is always present.  We’ve never done a full blown he-doesn’t-have-a-clue surprise birthday party.  We had a fabulous partial surprise weekend for my sister Marie’s 50^th, but she knew we were doing something to surprise her so it wasn’t the same.  Since the fam was able to pull it off, I’ll go ahead and take credit for the idea.  But a lone idea does not a successful surprise party make.

Originally I expected to be making one of my routine drives between our Dallas and Austin offices on Shawn’s birthday.  Sometimes, if the timing is right and schedules allow, I’ll stop halfway in Waco and call Shawn to come meet me at George’s right off IH 35.  I get a break from the traffic, we get a quick visit over a cold beverage, then I’m on my way.  I thought I might be able to do that on his actual birthday day.  Turned out I wouldn’t be making the trip that week.  I already had my heart set on seeing him that day, I knew he didn’t have plans as they were leaving for a trip a couple days after and our family gathering wouldn’t be until the end of the month.   It occurred to me we could possibly arrange a surprise party: it would be normal for me to call and ask for a visit as I passed through town and he knew our family wasn’t going to celebrate on the day.  

Once the idea came into my head, I couldn’t shake it.  I texted Vic to see what she thought and if it would work.   She gave me the green light.  Next, calls to mom, my sisters, all of our children, and some friends.  We decided to try it and developed an elaborate plan.  The local peeps would gather at George’s at a pre-arranged time, I’d call Shawn when I’m close to town ‘like usual’, then he would walk in and we would all yell surprise.   True, the plan was original and quite brilliant.

The key of course was Shawn.  He’s not exactly predictable, and things could change last minute.  I began to lay the groundwork, trying subtly to ensure his attendance.  During phone chats over the past couple of months I mentioned that I would be making some trips to the Dallas office in May and if one fell on his birthday day would he be available to meet me.  He said he wouldn’t be at the station so that should work.

As the date got closer I got more and more excited.  I could hardly believe we were really going to pull this off.  A couple of days before the surprise I talked to mom Vic & sisters and everything was “Go”.  The day of I told my boss I’d have to leave early and why, he thought it was great.  Emailed Vic and asked if she thought Shawn suspected anything.  She wrote back and said “he doesn’t have a clue.”  Perfect – clueless was good.    Marie and I exchanged a couple of phone calls – I had a small gift, we all had cards, Mom and Vicki were bringing balloons, Mom and Marie would get there early and secure some tables so we could set the stage.  My co-workers went the extra mile and didn’t delay my leaving with questions or requests, they knew I was on a mission.  All was going according to plan.

On the drive I kept talking about it to my husband, a captive audience.  We were going to surprise old Shawnie, of all people!  If I hadn’t been driving I would have rubbed my hands together in gleeful anticipation.

Twenty minutes from town I called Marie.  All was set at George’s, people were on their way, it was raining – Thank God! – but everyone was still coming.  I hung up and was going to make The Call when my phone rang.  Shawn cell.  I answered. 

“Hey there, I was just going to call you.  I’m about 20 minutes away I think.”

“Ok, where are you?”

Dang, where was I?  I’d forgotten to figure out the appropriate town on the north side to answer his question and make the timing work.   “Somewhere between Hillsboro and West, pretty close to West I think.”

“Well be careful.  It’s raining here pretty hard, is it raining there?”

Geez, I had no clue what the weather was like in West, I was in Troy!  God gave me a little help and right then it started sprinkling.   “It just now started sprinkling, not raining hard here.”

“Really?  Wow, the weather there looks worse than that so it must be coming your way.  Listen, I’m over here at the Cryin’ Shame and I wondered if you might want to come over here.  I’m already here, they bought me a brew for my birthday and it’s not far from the highway.  But if you’d rather go on to George’s I can leave and meet you there in about 20 minutes.”

Aaack!!!   We can’t change the venue – everyone’s already at George’s, appetizers ordered, Balloons tied on the chairs, tables positioned to be on the lookout – the Shame wasn’t gonna work.   “Well, I guess I could, but George’s is so much more convenient for me.  Would you mind just coming on over there?”

He said he would and we agreed to meet as planned.  Whew, that was close.  I called Marie and told her what had happened.  We both gave sighs of relief at the close call, she updated me on who was there and who was on their way, and we hung up.

By now it was raining really hard.  I had to slow down on the interstate just to make out the signs.  But at least I’d managed to keep the Surprise alive, and that was all that mattered.  Then the phone rang.

“Hey, it’s me again.  Listen, it’s raining really hard now, and a friend just bought me another birthday drink, are you sure you won’t just join me over here?  It’s really close to the interstate, I can tell you how to get here easy, and it’s not that far out of your way, really.  I sure would appreciate it.”

Well great.  Supposedly I was alone and on my way back home – any other time of course I’d be happy to meet where he wanted.  It would be very suspicious if I did anything else, just wouldn’t be like me.  So I put on a fake happy voice and said, “Ok, sure, that makes sense and it’s no problem at all.”   I listened as he gave me specific directions on how to get there and then said I’d see him in a few.

I called Marie again.  She said no way could they move everyone over there, logistics just wouldn’t work with all the moving parts and people still headed to George’s.  She suggested I just go on over to the Shame, tell him what was up and get him to come over to George’s.  I hated to be this close to the Surprise and not be able to pull it off, but maybe that was the only thing to do.  At this point I had to go to the Shame.  I told her to talk to Vic and Mom, figure out a plan and call me back.  I looked up to see my exit and got off the interstate to get on Hwy 6, driving toward the Cryin’ Shame.  And it was a cryin shame, I was so disappointed.

Phone rings again.  This time it’s Vicki.  “Look, we just can’t all go over to the Shame.  We’ve staked out the best tables here, food is on the table, presents and balloons are ready, that’s not going to work.  Why don’t you go to the Shame, tell Shawn you are hungry and really want the wings at George’s, get him to come over here?”

Hmm, I could try it, but there were lots of places around the Shame to eat and besides, I wouldn’t know a George’s wing if it flew in my face and Shawn knew it.  I told Vicki as much.  “How about this”, I said.  “Call Shawn, tell him you’ve talked to me, asked me what I wanted to eat and you’ve already ordered it?  Or something – I just don’t know what will work to get him to move.”

She said she’d call him and call me back.  Geez, this was getting not only ridiculous but now the Surprise was on me!   Dang brother.

Phone rings again.  Vicki.  “It’s all set.  He’s on his way to George’s.”  You’d better change course and get here as fast as you can.”

“What in the world did you tell him??”

“I told him I was already here, that I’d ordered my food and yours, and he needed to just get over here!”

Ah, the power of a wife :)    Perfect.  Only she could make that happen.   Great, the Surprise was on again!

I looked up to see the exit for the road I needed to take to change course again and get to George’s hopefully before Shawn did.  I jerked the car to the right just in time, barely making the exit and hoping I was in the correct lane – it was raining so hard I couldn’t tell for sure. 

Down Waco drive, over to Valley Mills – dang these traffic lights!   Speight, Speight, where was that …. Ah, there it is.  Left at the light on Speight, then only a few blocks to George’s.

There was a parking spot in the front – thank you once again, Lord.  We walked in and were met by my niece Melissa.  As we made our way to the back of the restaurant I saw them – it was Perfect!!!   The perfect location, by the windows where we could see when he pulled in, enough chairs with wonderful balloons tied to them, and our waitress Jennifer had just the right personality for our group.  We were doing it – the Surprise really was going to happen after all!

After the drive from Austin I was ready for a visit to the ladies room, but didn’t dare miss Shawn’s entrance.  I hugged everyone: Vicki – “thanks for saving the day, girl!”, Marie – “you picked the perfect spot”, Mom – “the balloons look great!”, pretty nieces Melissa and Mindy, and nephew-to-be Chase, friends.  Paul found us places to sit and I looked out the window.  Any minute he would be here, and I was going to have my Surprise :)

Sure enough, in about 3 minutes we saw his gorgeous new Chevy truck pull in, looking for a parking space.  We waited for what seemed like hours, then I spotted his hat coming in the door.  He walked inside, and went straight to the mens room.  Great – HE got a potty break but I didn’t.  Not fair. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting.  Another decade passed.   Then I saw his hat again, and Marie said “You’re on – go get him!”   I met him at the doors to the room, gave him a big hug.  “Were you coming or going?”  he asked.  “I saw your hat so I was coming to meet you.  Do you have a favorite table?” I replied.  He looked at me kinda funny.   In my excitement, I had completely forgotten the entire near miss – of course, Vicki had already told him we had a table and our food was ordered!   Ooops.

“Oh, that’s right – it’s right over here.”    I stepped aside so I could watch his face when he saw the table.  It was priceless.  The Look was everything I had hoped for and more.  ehHeHdm;lkjasekHe He

He was definitely clueless, and completely, totally, utterly Surprised.  

The rest of the evening was completely enjoyable.  In typical Shawn fashion, once he got over the shock he was in full form, holding court at the head of the able, reading cards, reacting to presents (the adult diaper with motorcycle stickers over it was perfect for this Harley man) and making the rounds to hug and pretend-chastise everyone.  At one point he told me how worried he was about the weather I was driving in coming in from the north side.  It took a while to sink in that I never was in Dallas that day, that Paul and I made the trip from Austin just for his birthday.   In the end he thanked us, and my happiness was complete – he really did enjoy his Surprise.

It wasn’t a huge party, it wasn’t fancy, and not everyone we wanted to attend could be there.  But we did it: the family pulled it off and we loved every minute of it.   A few Big O’s, good food, great fellowship, lots of smiles with laughter and much, much love.   The perfect Surprise.

The Storm

I have a good friend who survived Hurricane Alicia in the 1980’s.  I can never forget her story of taking cover with mattresses and waiting out the storm in her apartment, having missed the chance to get over the causeway and out of Galveston where she lived as a medical student.    She and a friend waited anxiously until the storm abated, and when it finally sounded safe to check the outside she opened her door on the 2^nd story only to discover there were no longer any stairs leading down to the ground.  The metal and stone stairway was simply gone.

Fortunately I’ve never gone through anything like that.  But last night I did my own anxious waiting as I watched the weather radar in my family’s hometown.  Seeing the curved red blotches and little lightning bolts on the screen right over that area, and hearing the reporter talk about that city was one thing; talking to my sister on her cell phone as she calmly stated she was in the hallway and the tornado sirens were sounding the alarm was quite another.  She assured me our mother was also taking cover in her house, not far from where my sister lives. And her daughter was ok at the moment too, although her new home was due east, directly in the path of the oncoming “storm with lots of circular motion”, as the newsman was saying.  My sister-in-law and brother texted me with updates, telling me the worst had passed over their house, north of the main storm activity, and repeating that mom was ok.  I exchanged calls with my daughter, living in another city also threatened by the storms and high winds. 

What a huge relief to know that all those I love and hold so dear made it through.  I have a new empathy for those in other parts of the world who have not been so fortunate, losing loved ones and homes to tsunamis, earthquakes, nuclear or oil rig explosions, and tornadoes.   As a friend said just yesterday after rafting at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, it sure puts my troubles in perspective.