My husband keeps reminding me that my last blog post was from early May. I tell him he is the one currently unemployed since turning in his resignation at Mama Yellow at the end of June but alas...I guess I better keep this thing updated if it is going to be on all my prayer cards and magnets!
Our little house in the big woods sold and closed on May 25th. That was a surreal day, signing away the papers on our "dream home" - the one I installed flooring in, painted, and shellacked on 42 gallons of varnish. The type of day where you give yourself 1) a sanity check (am I nuts?) and 2) a reaching out to go to reconfirm His calling (are you sure, Lord? I haven't miraculously learned Spanish overnight!). Our buyers graciously let us live in the house until after our sending agency retreat and Darren's brother's wedding was complete.
Then it was off to the races. I had been slowly packing about 5 boxes a day when the deadline came up behind me and bit down hard. People from church gathered boxes for us and our potluck group and family members put some serious sweat equity into helping us move (seriously...did we pick the hottest month on record or what?). Our friend Brad from church and my brother outlaw Shannon tag team drove a semi load of our earthly possessions to the border while my sister Susan and her daughter Hattie followed in their vehicle and Husband, two Squirrels, two stoned dogs (thanks to tranquilizers) and my nephew rode in our Big Blue Bus. Just south of Waco, and after coming through torrential downpour, I told Husband that the van seem to be wobbly. He said nothing for a while and then stated, "It's YOU! You are doing that with the steering wheel!". I assured him I was driving straight as an arrow but the van was pulling back and forth like I was on a ferry. He insisted it was me.
And not 10 minutes later, we hear a pop and the sound of metal grating. Yep, blew a tire. Big time. It was 11 PM and nothing was open. Shannon advised us to check for a 24 hour tire center. I called the first and was advised that they only handled 24 hour emergencies for semi trucks. I called the next one (sounded like I woke someone up) and asked if they did emergency service for minivans. He said yes, I confirmed the address, and then we drove via GPS directions into Austin.
Well, into a trailer park in Austin. Surely it was incorrect? I called the guy's number again and it went to voicemail. I had Husband call and sure enough, the sleepy voice answered. He asked where we were and we told him we were in a trailer park behind a trailer with a back porch light on. He told us he didn't work on minivans (say what?) and was probably completely creeped out by the fact that we were in his back yard (hey, his address was online!).
So on we rolled on the donut...now three hours behind schedule. We finally pulled into the Rio Grande Valley at 6:00 AM. Shannon and Brad had beat us and were waiting at a truck stop. We all looked homeless and smelled like feet. Erin had arranged for an Isaiah 55 work team to come help us unload and I can only imagine that we made a stellar first impression (I don't even remember if I brushed my teeth).
So pretty much National Lampoon's Moving Adventure completely with dogs that passed gas all the way down the TX. But we are here! And there are more adventures to share in upcoming episodes from my crazy Momzilla life...
