LUCK BE A LADY

Ah …

Silence.

It’s six’o’clock in the morning and the usual wild hubbub of three frenetically happy children has been replaced by the gentle singsong of two sweetly waking birds.

It is a big day.

Sarah, William, and James are riding with Daddy for the first part of today’s seventy mile leg.  I’ll pick the boys up in Selkirk about twelve miles away then drive on another eighteen miles to Marianthal where we’ll wait for Sarah.

But for the moment I have an hour and fifteen precious minutes to myself.

What to do?

I eat a leisurely breakfast while reading a year old copy of "Better Homes and Gardens" and ponder the possibilities.

I try to get on-line to check my email without three little heads alternating their mutual “Can I get on the computer?” query.  In this lovely cottage there is no wifi, but I’ve had a bit of luck tapping into the unsecured networks of the houses around us.

No such luck this morning.

I attempt to call my voicemail and check messages in this signal deficient hamlet where “No Network Coverage” is about the only text message I’ve received for days.  Every so often, though, I can grab a stray edge of the cell service that seems to float overhead like an elusive jet stream; and touch base with my life back home.

No such luck this morning.

I do some yoga stretches to loosen up my 52-years-old-in-six-weeks back, which has out of the blue decided it doesn’t like sitting in the car for two or three hours a day.  Neither does it like lugging heavy bags to and from upper story walk-up motel rooms every day.  Nor does it like sleeping in beds that vary from rock hard to saggy soft every night.  For the past two weeks my yoga and Pilates classes have really paid off by giving me tools to help ease the stiffness at the start of each day.

No such luck this morning.

I drive over to the old water tower I spotted yesterday hoping to get some nice early morning shots for a photo study I’m working on.  A frail mist of clouds floats in an anemic blue pool of sky.  I’d wanted a bright expanse of cloudless azure to contrast with the ragged edges and dingy silver of the tower.  Ah, well.  Perhaps the similarity will actually create a more dramatic shot than the disparity I’d been envisioning.

No such luck this morning.

I shoot what I can and head back to the car with exactly forty-five minutes to go till I have to meet mi famiglia.  It's precisely enough time to have a leisurely drive to our meeting point, and then indulge in one of my secret pleasures.  Tweezing my eyebrows.  Yes, my favorite location for that grooming ritual is parked in a sunny spot with the car facing directly into the early day’s rays while I use the driver’s seat mirror to pluck any errant hairs.  And my shaggy brows are screaming for their toilette.

No such luck this morning.

The minivan’s self-locking system, which has never worked before, has decided to spontaneously repair itself this morning.  Perhaps it was because of the unaccustomed quiet in this town of 741 (according to the 2010 census).  Perhaps it was because of the tender loving care the car has received from me.  Perhaps Tribune, Kansas is some sort of Lourdes for motor vehicles.  Whatever the reason, it has done so with my keys and admittedly useless cell phone sitting on the front seat.  The nice man who stops to help tells me that the sheriff “should be here in a couple minutes.”

No such luck this morning.

Forty-five minutes later I thank the sheriff and finally get in the car.  The clock reprimands me.  Gene estimated they’d be traveling about eight miles an hour, so I may still have time to get ahead of them and film my three progeny on the road with their Dad.

No such luck this morning.

When I arrive at our proscribed meeting place, the children are in various phases of melting in the already blazing Great Plains sun.

“Where were you?”

“We’ve been waiting almost an hour!”

“Daddy was having vivid doom-filled fantasies.”  (Sarah loves to quote my blog back to me.)

“They went faster than I thought they would,” Gene told me after I explained what happened.

"How was it?" I ask.

“It was great!”

“We rode twelve miles!”

“We’ve never ridden that far.”

“I’m hot.”

“I’m tired.”

“I need water.”

"I need air conditioning."

“Do you have a snack?”

Ah …

Cacaphony.

Sometimes you don’t know how lucky you are until your luck runs out.

 

For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org
To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056