Our family has a strong affection for
the Griswolds of National Lampoon fame. So often during those movies
about going on a holiday, putting up Christmas Lights, having the
whole family over for Christmas dinner – instead of laughing until
the tears roll down our cheeks like other people – we just nodded
our heads and thought “been there”! Recently, as the popularity
of that series of movies has waned we have found ourselves feeling
less and less affiliated with the Griswold club. But then, something
happens that slams us right back into the familial arms of Clark,
Ellen, Rusty and Audrey.
This time it started with my son
getting two horses. The horses get out for the first time to be
caught (eventually) for Brad as he works in Regina and wasn't home,
by his Auntie Sharon and two female EA's from Balcarres and some guy
on a quad,. This was funny enough, but one should never ever laugh!
The second time is on a day when Brad
is home with his boys. The horses are there before lunch, but when
he goes outside for his after lunch smoke, the horses are gone. Myth
No 1: They can't have gone far. This was shortly debunked after
driving aimlessly around the farm and neighbourhood and no sign of
the horses. However, it was muddy, so there were prints. Myth No 2:
I'll just follow the hoof prints and catch up with them. That lasted
about an hour. Then, as his gas gauge slowly sinks to E, he realizes
that he needs to call in the Cavalry. Myth No 3: Dad is always
anxious to be the cavalry. Dad does head out to be helpful in
locating the horses, but his workaholism soon takes over, plus he
also is really low on gas – so he bales to go to the far end of
Fort San Road to do a job. The horses had been located but now, what
to do with them?
Doing his best cowboy imitation, Brad
manages to get a halter on the quiet little one. The little boys in
the truck cheer. He then manages to hoist himself atop the “quiet
little one” in order to try and catch (coax?) the larger not so
quiet one. He is promptly “ejected” from the horse's back (I
have no details of how), but eventually he does get both horses, tied
to the back of his truck. He heads back home. It is slow going.
The little boys are quickly bored. All Parents know that there is
NOTHING WORSE than being in a small closed-in space with two young
siblings and it is worse yet when they are brothers! Brad decides he
needs to make a better plan.
Myth No 4: Calling Mom is always a
good idea -- she is the smart one. I head out with dubious
directions as he really isn't sure of where he is anyway. North of
Lipton. Okay so north east right left – these types of words are
all meaningless Greek to me. I managed to get the information to
turn right and go north from his farm. Having lived on that farm for
36 years – I do know which way is north from it. “Go past
Onraits, turn and go left at O'Connors”. Ummm, okay...I have no
idea where either of those farm yards are (Yes I know I have been to
each of them, but who pays attention when they are taking a nice
drive and it was likely 20 years ago and I can hardly remember where
I park my car in the parking lot anymore!!) But...I decide to just
go for it. How hard can it be? I have GPS (which has no idea where
the Onrait and O'Connor farms are either)!
My instincts were right. He calls back
and says don't go past O'connors, turn ("right/left/east/north?????")
at Onraits and get on the grid that GOES PAST PLETZs. I know where
that is!! No problemo. I am on my way to the rescue.
The plan is that Brad will take my
truck, go to a neighbours and get a horse trailer, come back to his
truck and put the horses in the trailer and we all go home and live
happily ever after. (That was Myth No 5 by the way). I get past the
Pletzs, and onto the Lipton Grid going some direction but he has
included “towards Balcarres” in the instructions so I get it and
all goes pretty much as planned until I come to the tricky part “go
up to the big curve in the Lipton Grid and keep right and I am right
there”. That is exactly what I did. I got up to the big curve and
kept right which took me off the grid and onto a secondary road
which, a couple of kms down, is under water. We have a really big
truck, the road is really narrow, but I manage to get turned around
and head back to the Lipton Grid – stay on the grid around the
curve and there they are. A white truck, harried father, bored tired
excited hungry thirsty and dirty little boys and two horses smirking
at all of us as they are tied to the back of the truck. Just as my
truck flashes “low fuel” on my info panel!
Brad and I have been communicating all
this time using our cell phones so I am sure to grab mine, put it in
my pocket and Brad and I make the trade. His final instructions are
to keep going, he will catch up with us, just go about 3 -5 km/hr and
go back exactly the way I came.
My first little lesson is that the mark
between 0 and 20 km isn't indicating 5km/hr and the horses protest
quite a bit at the pace. Owen insists that I am hurting them, so I
slow down, secretly thinking “smirk at that losers!” So once I
know the right pace the horses follow along just fine.
Owen wants gum. I tell him I don't
have gum, but go ahead pull everything out of my purse and see if I
have any, which he is doing anyway so he might as well be following
orders. After 300 “how much longer” interspersed with 500 “when
is Daddy coming?” amid untold hundreds of little upsets regarding
who gets to sit where, window open/shut, elbow nudging, hair pulling
etc etc – I feel that it would be prudent to give Brad a call and
see just where we stand with all of this. I put my hand in my pocket
and.....pull out the fob for the truck! I am pretty sure this means
if Brad stops the truck he won't be able to start it again. It also
means that my cell phone is in that truck, that which will shortly
become useless to the driver. I glance at the contents of my purse
Owen has strewn around and see the second fob for the truck. The
real meaning of the phrase “well and truly screwed” comes to me
with blinding clarity.
“Oh f**k” I blurt out in horror.
Apologizing to two pairs of serious big blue eyes for saying a bad
word does take the edge off panic. I pleaded it was an accident and
really bad of me and then they listed the several things that have
been done to them after similar accidental occurrences. Nothing to
do but carry on with the horses, which I do.
All stops are pulled out now! These
kids are done done DONE with this nonsense and really, who can blame
them. I just agree with everything they say in regard to tired,
hungry, bored, but I am really in agreement when we get to thirsty.
It occurs to all three of us that we are, literally, dying of thirst.
We take our mind off it by deciding what the other two should do if
eg. Gramma dies first, or Owen, or Declan. Declan decides death
sounds interesting enough and punches himself in the head and falls
over “dead” on his seat. He is quiet and still for nearly 10
seconds, the longest he has ever been, and it is a blessed relief
that Owen and I savour.
And then Owen finds a Gaterade on the
floor of the back seat. The cheering and applauding are deafening.
After a few false starts in opening it, I snarl “give it to me!”
and remove the heat shrunk plastic around the top with a screw
driver. Then of course the big issue of who gets the first drink has
to be decided. We toss around the ideas of brute strength vs age vs
rock/paper/scissors when Declan starts to bawl. Owen and I roll our
eyes and tell him he can have the first drink. He hoists the bottle
to his mouth lowers it and starts to cry in earnest. Owen grabs it
and heatedly informs Gramma that we always have to take the foil
cover under the lid off. “Off every Gaterade all the time” and
really, poor little kid, he does have a struggle with me and my
general ignorance of anything that is important. Foil removed Declan
swigs down a huge mouthful. Owen swigs down an even bigger mouthful.
Gramma gets a sip. Then it is the millilitre monitoring of each
drink thereafter to ensure that one does not have more than the
other.
My initial thirst slaked somewhat, I
conclude that I really need a different kind of drink, and a strong
one! Soon! It is time to humble myself (even more) and take action.
I stop on the road and wait for
somebody to come along. Who does not have a cell phone these days
?Well I don't at the moment but that is an aberration of the the
norm. I watch and pray that a complete stranger comes along. A
white car slows down, opens the window and...it is somebody I know
damn it! After as brief an explanation as I can make, I ask to use
her cell, but it is hooked up to her car . Anyway, she is kind enough
to let me try and phone Brad – no luck – and against every fibre
of my being I choke out Murray's phone number. He is the last one
one wishes to speak too when in a situation like this. In the
meantime a truck comes up behind us. A farm truck. The farmer gets
out and trudges up to us.
My friend tells me that Murray is on
the phone and so the conversation through her open window into her
car's speaker starts with me listening patiently to the assigning of
blame as to whose fault this is (mine) who didn't listen when he said
put the second fob back in his pocket (I didn't), who had to quit
what he was doing and drive back from the far end of Fort San Road
with a paid employee to discover that the second fob wasn't in the
house (he did) who didn't have her cell phone (me) and who is
generally too stupid to live (that would also be me). All the while
I am having a signal and speak conversation with the farmer who says
he will get his other truck that is hooked up to his horse trailer
and take my horses home. I tell Murray, to Jackie's suppressed
laughter, to tell Brad that Thomas (the farmer) will rescue me and I
am bringing the horses home. Good Bye!!
We are saved. The boys and I see the
light at the end of the tunnel. The sun comes out. Birds sing.
Woodland creatures scamper around us in delight. Ah, thank you kind
Thomas the Farmer.
When I next speak with Brad, (he has
gotten a ride with the friendly neighbour who WOULD have let him
borrow his horse trailer), we just have to laugh. The horses, once
back in the corral, are fed and then Gramma is driven to her truck
and we all go to our own homes and live happily ever after.
Except that I have to put $140.00 gas
into my truck before I can get to the happily ever after part.
/bye
