My sister-in-law, my little brother's wife, is Me, the way I was supposed to be. Improved. She's tall and thin with great bones and great teeth and she reminds you of a racehorse or a greyhound.
I'm tall and used to be thin.
ANYWAY. Today, she ended up with all the little kids. By herself. And about 8:30 tonight she called...insulted beyond words. Because no less than FOUR family members had called to make sure she made it home from the branch, with the kids, tonight.
She was certain that the only reason anyone was checking was because we were all certain that she had downed her customary oversized bottle of white wine, started in on whatever other alcoholic beverage was available, and had then raided my refrigerator door.
She was right, but we're not going there. What we were REALLY concerned about was a mom with three elementary aged children in fairly rugged terrain. Driving a minivan.
Which brings us to the funny connection to this story, about why you worry about people getting places:
A couple of years ago my 75-year-old father took his small pickup truck and hooked his medium trailer to it. Then, he drove to the lumber yard and put a large load of boards on it. (There's a trend here.)
On his way home, he's sailing down the highway and something happened and the trailer starts fishtailing and the next thing you know...he's upside down in a ditch. In the pickup. With the load of lumber of top of the pickup.
The seatbelt latched, and he couldn't get out. So there he hangs, not harmed at all, but a captive of his circumstances waiting on the rescue squad to get there. So he PICKS UP HIS CELLPHONE, and calls my mother. The retired librarian/English teacher, who is reclining in her recliner, reading a book.
When she answers the phone, instead of saying "I've had a wreck and I'm hanging upside down in my truck waiting on the rescue squad to get here,"; he says, "You'll never guess where I am."
We live in rural Alabama. Shit don't work here.
My mother says, "What?"
And my dad says, "You'll never guess where I am."
And my mother says, "You're breaking up. Call me back later." And hangs up on him. Like, SHE HANGS UP THE PHONE.
Fifteen minutes later when the sheriff's department called, I think she agreed to discuss the situation but she still didn't make a move until she called me and we drove to the hospital. To find a REALLY pissed- off dad because they had strapped him to a board and his back hurt.
But, as he pointed out, no one in the ER hung up on him.