Car Keys, Cattle and Carnage Part V, in which the other shoe boot drops

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

We tried to enjoy our week as best we could, biding our time until Friday (Read: Payday). Finally Jessie was finished with his workweek and ready to join us at the condo.

His plan was to have the locksmith out as soon as he was done, and to drive directly down to Naples in our newly liberated van once the locksmith had cut the key. He called me when the locksmith was on his way over, assuring me he'd call again once he was on the road. A half hour went by. No call. I waited a few more minutes, but could bear the suspense no longer. I called Jessie. "Are you on your way yet?" Silence - and then, "Babe, you know how we could pull the key out of our ignition even when the van was running?" "Um, yeah?" "The locksmith cut the key, and it fits in the ignition, but it won't turn over since the ignition has a flaw." I imagined having to replace the entire steering column next, all because we lost our stinkin' key. But Jessie was talking again. The locksmith had just informed him that he happened to have an ignition for our model of van in his truck. He was sure he'd be able to get the old ignition out with his equipment. For $90 plus his service charge, we could have the new ignition installed and a key that actually worked in it.

A half hour later Jessie called me. I had no expectations by this time. But, he informed me with jubilation that he was actually driving in our van, and on the way down to join us! We were so relieved! Finally we had transportation again. We felt rueful about the expenses we had already accrued in this fiasco, and had yet to pay out before the truck would be usable again, but at least things were finally looking up!

We were able to have a lovely time with family despite the fact that we'd had so much wind taken out of our sails the previous week. We headed home Sunday night after bidding farewell to our visiting family. It had been a great time.

By late Monday morning things had gotten back to normal for the most part. I started unpacking the bags from our stay at the condo after breakfast. I carried an armful of clothes into the girls' room to be put away, and almost stepped on a set of keys lying on the floor just inside their doorway. Sudden realization coursed through me, and my voice was shrill almost to a screaming point when I called Jessie to come and look. He arrived quickly, and his gaze followed my pointing finger to rest on the set of keys lying ingloriously in the doorway. He stared at them stupidly for a moment, and then, in a flash of sheer brilliance, he turned to Eliza (who was just barely two at the time). "Eliza", he said sweetly, "Can you please put the keys back where you found them?" Eliza, delighted to oblige, scooped up the keys without hesitation and pitter-pattered down the hallway. She reached the coat closet and confidently pulled open the door, sat her little bum on the floor, selected a pink cowboy boot from the assorted shoes cluttering the floor of the closet, and dropped the ring of keys inside.

A few addendums:

Now, I assure you, in our previous search Jessie had thoroughly searched this closet, shaking each shoe and looking inside. However, we found that when a set of keys is lodged deep inside the toe of a size 8 pink cowboy boot, they do not rattle, and are not visible from the top. And since this all happened in July, the boots had not been worn at all for several months at least.

Thus ends the saga of the keys. Well, not quite ended. The truck parts did take 6 weeks to arrive, and when they did, they were the wrong color. But we had them painted and Jessie spent the entire next Saturday successfully repairing the truck.

The End

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage Part IV, in which we curse used car lots.

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage, Part I

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage, Part II

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage, Part III

At the dealership we paid our $20. to have a duplicate key made, and shifted our attention on the way home to the issue of getting the truck repaired. Of course we knew that we needed to repair it out of our own pockets since it was not damaged in an accident related to company business. Jessie felt pretty confident that he could get most of the parts used and repair it himself, cause he's studly like that. We knew that the parts would still add up to quite a handy sum though.

After we got home and put the girls down for their naps, Jessie meandered out to the van with the intent of taking it to the filling station, since it had been very low on gas before it had been rendered useless for the weekend.

I knew it was an ominous sign when Jessie returned to the house wearing a defeated look on his face less than 2 minutes after walking out. "Hey babe, you know how our ignition key has never worked in the passenger door?" I waited. But apparently he wanted a response, or for me to make my own inferences. "Um, yeah?" I could vaguely see where this was headed. "I think the ignition on our van was switched out before we bought it." "Meaning..." "This key doesn't work in the ignition." "But", he added helpfully, "It does work in the passenger door."

There really should be a limit to cruel ironies, I decided.

I mentally included "new ignition assembly" on the list of car parts I would be requesting over the phone from various salvage yards on Monday.

We spent most of the week at a condo in Naples with my sister's family, because they were vacationing there, and Jessie has business that takes him down several times a week anyways. While there, I busied myself with making calls to various scrap yards and car parts stores. I discovered through the course of days that 1) the parts for the truck could take up to 6 weeks to obtain . 2) a new ignition assembly would do us no good since the old one cannot be removed without using the original key. 3) our only option was to have a locksmith come out and cut us a new key for the current ignition. 4) People who own scrap yards invariably talk like Larry the Cable Guy.

To Be Continued.

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage Part III, In which we give up the van keys for lost

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage Part I

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage Part II

This probably sounds completely ludicrous, but on my way home I was overwhelmed with a feeling of special-ness (if that's a word). I almost felt like God had winked at me. I have travelled that road many times, before and after the accident, and never again have I seen a cow out of its pasture. Was He lovingly teaching me not to ignore my nagging cautions (i. e. about rationalizing the use of Jessie's work vehicle - or about my pride and unwillingness to turn over a simple job to my husband)? If so, He certainly was doing it in a way that was hard to miss (haha, I know, horrible). I really appreciate it when God is obvious, because sometimes I can be kind of dense. Or maybe He just wanted to show me/us that we didn't have control over everything, but that He did, and that's ok; probably both, I've concluded since then. I didn't feel like He was angry with me. He protected me from being injured in what certainly could have been a much more serious accident. I thanked Him for the lesson, and felt free to laugh over it with Him. My mood changed to a more light-hearted one on the way home, even as I dodged a couple of armadilloes in the road, and I tipped my hat to God's sense of humor.

Upon my return, Jessie viewed the damage to the truck, and I pulled bits of glass from my arm and legs. All of you animal lovers will be happy to know that Jessie felt pretty confident from the amount of damage he saw, that the cow did not meet its demise that night, and was likely not even much the worse for wear (it likely spent many more happy days in the pasture, soaking up the sun and becoming plumper and svelte-er before making its way to the slaughterhouse). We'll just have to take his word for it, because he's a farm boy, and because I never did see or hear about what became of that cow.

Due to the lateness of the hour, and the harrowing nature of the evening's events, we decided to put off the search for the lost van keys until the next day.

Accordingly, bright and early the next morning we began our exhaustive search of the house and premises. We sifted through the contents of every closet, looked under and in every piece of furniture, checked and re-checked the pockets of all clothing items, clean or otherwise, and generally ransacked the entire house, garage, driveway, and both vehicles until we were left to conclude that the keys had either been raptured, or forcibly flushed down the toilet.

Obviously, attending the baby shower was out of the question by now. But later in the day, after much guffawing and clever jibes of a bovine nature, Jessie's co-worker came to our rescue and brought us his second vehicle to be used until further notice. The plan was to drive to the nearest Dodge dealership that day (30 miles away) and have them cut a new key for our ignition. The dealerships can do this if they have the vehicle identification number. We were relieved that at least the van part of the episode was nearing closure.

To Be Continued.

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage, Part II, in which I scream like a little girl.

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage, Part I

I grabbed my purse and headed out of our subdivision. If you turn left out of our sub, you get to the highway very quickly, but if you turn right, there is nothing but fields and cow pastures for six miles until you hit the road that leads to Publix. This is a very pleasant drive during the daytime. Having grown up in the middle of a big city myself, I've always enjoyed it. But I'd never driven it at nighttime before. It suddenly seemed like a long, dark, lonely road. There are no lights on this road, so I used my highbeams. I was cruising along at about 45 mph (a conservative speed for this road) when I turned off my brights momentarily so as not to blind an approaching vehicle. When I switched them back on, I was greeted by the suddenly illuminated vision of the black hindquarters of a large animal looming in front of me. This was barely even noted before I collided with the spectre-like rear end.

I scream as I have never screamed before. I am aware of being pelted with what I imagine must be the gory remains of the cow. I pull over to the side of the road and scream/sob with horror and loathing. There is something in my mouth. I realize it is glass. Only then do I see that my driver's side window is broken and lying in pieces all over my lap. I am grateful that it is only glass, and not bovine remains. I am too shaky and freaked out to find my phone and call Jessie, and I now feel very exposed, sitting alone on the side of a dark, abandoned road with no window. I cannot bring myself to get out of the truck and check on the condition of the cow. The prospects of surveying my recent slaughter, or encountering a staggering, undead cow are equally horrific to me. So I do the only thing that I can do in the current state of cowardice that I have been reduced to. I continue on. I can't turn around and go home, because then I might see it.

I am relieved that the truck's driving abilities don't seem to be at all affected by the collision, and start wondering what kind of damage it does have. Another chunk of the window breaks off and falls in my lap every few minutes, causing me to jump every time. I finally reach the parking lot of Publix, where I first call the police to inform them that they may need to euthanize a cow, then I call Jessie. He answers. "Are you there yet?" "Yes." I search for words. "Well, the good news is that I'm alive." Immediate concern fills his voice. "Did you hit something" (he told me later he was thinking maybe an armadillo, or a wild pig at worst). "Yes. A cow." "A WHAT??!" "Are you sure you're ok?" I glance over myself. "Well, I'm bleeding. But only because there is glass in my arm." After assuring him that it is inconsequential, I get out and observe the damage to the truck. Apparently I hit the cow with my driver's side headlight, (now broken) which caused it to spin around, dent the front fender, and hit my rear-view mirror, which in turn forcibly crashed through my window.

By this time Publix has already closed and I have nothing left to do but to head home, the other way.

To Be Continued.

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage, Part I

Car Keys, Cattle, and Carnage - Part I, in which the stage is set.

More than a year after this actual saga took place, I finally feel myself far enough detached from all the gory details to actually record the sequence of events. I record them because it is a ridiculous story that we will want to remember someday. And there are so many details involved that I don't trust my brain to retain them for posterity.

Our story begins on a muggy Friday evening in mid July of 2009. Bedtime for the girls was approaching, and I was planning a trip to Publix to pick up fruit for the tray I was to bring to a baby shower the next morning. After the girls were tucked snug in their beds, I went to the drawer where we usually keep the keys to our van. No keys were to be found within. Jessie and I scanned all the alternate places where keys might be carelessly laid by one of us - still no keys. After about a half hour of more in depth searching with no results, we realized that Publix was going to close soon and we'd have to abandon the search until later. Not wanting to entrust Jessie with the job of choosing the fruit for my tray, I decided to take his work truck myself and make the quick dash to Publix and back. Note: I had never used his truck before, and we never use it for personal errands - it was deemed a desperate times call for desperate measures sort of situation.

We didn't even know the meaning of the word 'desperate' at that point, but we soon would...

To Be Continued.

I am deeply mildly ashamed...

It is with deep shame that I admit that I actually had to invite the census guy in this evening to answer his 5 minutes worth of questions. Our census form had been filled out and ready to mail within 24 hours of its receipt, I believe, but for the lack of a stamp it went unmailed, and eventually disappeared from out of sight and mind, never to resurface again from the abyss of forgotten forms, receipts, sunday school papers, and pictures of rainbows. We were unaware that we'd even missed the deadline until we came home one night a few weeks ago to find a friendly reminder on our doorstep.

I am not one to be uncooperative, but when I was awakened from my nap by a ring at the doorbell a couple days ago, I decided that whoever was there was unlikely to have anything on their agenda that was important enough to interrupt my nap for. Another ring and Ingrid woke up from her nap. Grrrrr. I was awake enough by then to realize that it was probably a census person again, and I'd best get it over with. Then I was rudely jolted out of my grogginess by very aggressive and prolonged knocking. My goodwill toward census employees was quickly erased. I was certainly NOT going to answer the door now. After several more increasingly violent spells of knocking, (I think they heard Ingrid, so they knew someone was home and were just taking out their annoyance at not being answered) the person gave up and went back to their car. I was incensed. I wonder what that person would have said if I had actually opened the door in the middle of one of their violent attacks on it.

Anyhow, when the doorbell rang this evening, the girls were all awake and went bounding joyously to the door, en masse, so I had no choice but to answer it. The elderly gentleman on the doorstep seemed very pleasant, so I invited him in, after asking if he'd been here already this week. I told him about the last person pounding on my door, and he assured me it wasn't him. The girls were in a great state of excitement the whole time he was there, as they always are when any friend, repairman, package delivery person, etc. enters the house for any reason. I meekly answered all his questions, assuring him that I am, in fact, a woman, and am, in fact, white, and that my husband actually is, a man, and then sent him on his merry way, with Eliza cheerfully declaring that she'd "See you on Sunday!", and Theia unceremoniously slamming the door behind him (she's a little overzealous when it come to doors).

So, it was a pain-free experience, and I realized after he left that I wasn't even asked to provide our SS#'s this way. Maybe procrastination is the best policy after all.

Froggimus Optimus

I have a new task master in my kitchen. Well, not IN my kitchen, but on the windowsill above my kitchen sink. This solemn fellow joins me just about every night while I wash the dinner dishes. He fixes me with his unblinking gaze and I just know what he'll think of me if I don't load the dishwasher before going to bed.

I'm pretty sure he has strong opinions about the condition of my screens and window tracks too.

Last night, after withering under his reproachful gaze for long enough, I pulled out the camera to see if it would faze him. He pretended not to notice at first, but after being flashed one time too many, he shot me a look of utter contempt, and hopped disdainfully back into the bushes.

Labor Day Weekend Part II (alternately titled "Never Trust County Websites")

You would think after our first failed attempt at getting the girl's photoshoot done that we would realize that Labor Day weekend was created for less stressful things, like playing Parcheesi, and eating food that doesn't require stovetop preparation. But, never ones to be discouraged by trifles, we rebounded and decided that Monday would be the perfect time for a retry.

We had chosen some botanical gardens run by Pinellas county to be the spot of our photoshoot. Theia's and Eliza's 1 year pictures had been taken in the middle of beautiful gardens, and we wanted the same look for Ingrid's. We had driven around, asked around, and googled around for weeks looking for some place in Florida that actually had flowers (and didn't charge highway robbery for the privilege of seeing them). Florida has its high points to be sure, but its only colors are blue, tan, and dingy green. Finally some friends tipped us off to these awesome gardens that have FREE admission.

I'm sure all of you with multiple small children can understand and appreciate the meaning behind my words when I tell you that the entire day revolved around getting the girls photoshoot done. We knew we wanted evening lighting, so we had to leave by 4:15 in order to get there by 5 and have two hours to do our thing before the gardens closed. Everything had to be timed perfectly. Morning activities had to be cut short in order to get the girls lunched and down for a nap so they would be in a frame of mind conducive to being photographed. Six little ruffled and ribboned outfits (two changes each) had to be ironed while they slept. I won't even mention that this was my second time ironing them since they had to be rewashed after the bean fiasco. We woke the girls up promptly at 3:30 and put them through an assembly line bath before buckling them in their carseats and setting out for Ye Olde Botanical Gardens.

We drove the 30 minutes to the gardens and were greeted by a closed gate through which we could see a decidedly uninhabited parking lot. Undaunted, we said to ourselves there must be another entrance, since the website boldly boasts "Open every day of the year" (if you don't believe me, check it out for yourself HERE). We drove out to the road and around the corner and found another entrance, padlocked with a sign that said "Use other Entrance". Our friend Jenni had kindly agreed to come and be an extra pair of hands since she lives near the gardens. She arrived and informed us that she drives by that entrance all the time and it is always open. She even stopped a cop and asked if there were any other entrances. After driving around stupidly to the other entrance a few times, we concluded that there was probably a group of mutinous county employees off enjoying a Labor Day barbecue somewhere, or perhaps a bean bake.

Jessie and I were so frustrated that we could have cried, or maybe bitten something. But Jenni was there, so we couldn't do either. *

It turned out to be a good thing that Jenni was there, since she helped us salvage our evening and actually enjoy it. She suggested that we take the girls to a nearby park so they could play since they had been cooped up in the van for quite awhile by now. Once there, she even convinced the now surly parents to get the camera out for a few shots of the girls. These are not to be considered their official pictures, but Jessie managed to get a few shots that are worth posting while we wait for the real thing.

As I was writing this post, I recalled that we actually had a similar experience last year when we tried to do this. I posted about it HERE. I guess we should have expected that the number of attempts necessary to achieve success just increases with each child. When it was just Theia we woke up one day and said "How bout we head over to the the gardens and take Theia's pictures?", and we did it. When we added Eliza to the equation it took two tries. Now we have three, and we are planning our third attempt for tomorrow afternoon. If that fails, I might just have to bite something and call it a day.

*Jessie would insist he never thought of crying, or biting anything.

Labor Day Weekend Part I (alternately titled "Burnt Beans")

There is a new saying in the Wert household especially for Labor Day. It goes something like this: "Come to us all you who labor and are heavy laden, and we will give you... burnt beans".
We went into the three day weekend giddy with anticipation of a leisurely, revitalizing time. Our only finite plans were to get the girls 3, 2, and 1 year pictures done. We have been planning this for weeks, and a three day weekend seemed the perfect time to attempt it. So, accordingly, bright and somewhat early on Saturday morning we set out to find the perfect little white dress for Ingrid to wear in her pictures. Being the economical and efficient woman that I am, I put a pot of chick peas on to boil as we were preparing to leave the house, with the intention of turning them down to simmer while we were gone, thus having lunch half made by our return.
We spent two hours exhausting every children's store at the nearby outlet mall with no luck, since retailers have this deluded belief that people only want to buy brown corduroy jumpers, orange sweaters, and striped tights in September, regardless of the 97 degree temps that are likely to stick around for another two months. But, I digress. We decided to head home and put the girls down to nap while I made a run to our trusty flea market where a used children's clothing booth never fails to please (why didn't I think of that in the first place??!).
On the way home I suddenly drew my breath in with a gasp that caused Jessie to tap the brakes and frantically scan the traffic ahead since such a sound (he surmised) could only be caused by one who was witnessing a catastrophic accident unfolding before her eyes. But, the catastrophic accident was only unfolding in my mind's eye, as I suddenly remembered the beans.
I told Jessie about my cause for alarm, and hoped while I was speaking that perhaps he had seen the boiling beans and had thought to turn them down before we left. He informed me that he had seen the beans boiling, but had not turned them down. He had cocked the lid and yelled to inform me that they were boiling, so I could do with them whatever women do with boiling beans. I of course never heard this, so we then both walked out of the house with the knowledge tucked back somewhere in the cobwebby abysses of our brains that there was a boiling pot on the stove.
By now we were really worried. We scanned the horizon for billowing clouds of smoke. We were relieved to see our house looking quite ordinary from the outside when we pulled onto our street, but I could see the hazy gray through the window in the doorway as I was coming up the front walk.
The entire house was filled with smoke. Every closet, nook, and cranny. Jessie and I ran around opening windows and turning fans on. Jessie removed the accursed pot of beans, which by now was nothing but a pile of nearly disintegrated glowing black embers, and we high-tailed it out of there. After eating lunch out and visiting the flea market together (although we realized that pictures were absolutely out of the question by now) we headed back to our house. We were greeted by a powerful wave of eye-watering stench when we opened the door.
We put the girls down for a nap but quickly realized that we could not stay there. I was developing a headache and was feeling quite nauseous from the smell. Fortunately for us, Luke and Lesley's family are in New Mexico right now and they had given us permission to use their house while they were gone. I packed up enough food and clothing for a few days while Jessie ran out to buy some odor-eating stuff.
I'll skip to the end for now. We came home Tuesday night to find that our house does not seem to be a biohazard threat, and no longer smells like all the chimney sweeps in Mary Poppins had held a bean-bake here. It now only smells like several chain smokers might live here. But, we have hopes that the smell will be gone entirely before too long, since we are systematically cleaning everything that can be cleaned and spraying Febreeze pet formula on everything else (that stuff really works).
I do have more to say about our weekend (notice that this post is titled Part 1) but I will save it for later. I just might go and do another load of smoky wash right now.

Part 2: http://jessie-james-gang.blogspot.com/2009/09/labor-day-weekend-part-ii-alternately.html

There is no great loss without some small gain.

Take a good, hard look at this picture, because there are two things in it that will likely never be seen again

by human eyes.

Recently we attended a lovely get-together with

some good friends from church. We enjoyed a cookout, played in the pool (with a view of the bay), and ripped it up on our friends' jet-skis. It was the first time I had every been on a jet-ski, and I'm already hungering for more.

After I took a highly enjoyable, but tightly controlled ride, Jessie and his buddy Rob decided to take the jet-skis out and allow them to realize their full potential. Now, Rob is one who is very experienced at jet-ski tomfoolery, so at some point he spun his ride around at high speed in close proximity to Jessie's ride, so as to drench him with salt water, and awaken in him an intense desire for revenge. Unfortunately, Jessie is not one who is very experienced at jet-ski tomfoolery. Consequently, when he went in for the kill, he hit Rob's wake and was thrown off his ride through the air (in slow-motion, I am told) and backwards through the water for about ten yards. When he surfaced Rob immediately observed that Jessie's glasses were missing, but it wasn't until they were back on land that Jessie realized his wedding band was also AWOL.

As you can see, while Jessie was off disencumbering himself of several hundreds of dollars worth of merchandise, I was partaking in tamer pursuits, all the while remaining in possession of both my glasses, and my wedding band.

At least we have the assurance from Rob, that Jessie did indeed get him soaking wet with the fateful maneuver, so we can take comfort in the fact that his valuables were lost in a worthy endeavor. And, perhaps somewhere in the bay of Tampa there is a dolphin now sporting a very sharp pair of spectacles, and a size 11 white gold men's wedding ring.

So, look well, because we have already

discovered that the frames Jessie lost

(which we both really liked, and he had

owned for less than a year) are no longer

available. And you can be sure that,

when given an opportunity do purchase

a new ring, Jessie will not go for the

same old style he's been sporting for

almost four years.

Backfired.

Theia (while lying on my chest, snuggling): "Mama, do you have hairs in your nose?" Me: "[Groan] Couldn't you have asked Daddy that question instead?" Theia: "Ok. Daddy, does Mama have hairs in her nose?"

Baby-Baby-Wearing and other Stuff

I am still living in the afterglow of our lovely weekend. Thanks to the generosity of our friend Christi from church, Jessie and I got to go on a date! We haven't been out alone since we moved and we have been chompin at the bit to get out together. We planned on just leaving the older girls, but when we started to walk out the door with Ingrid Christi protested convincingly enough that we decided to leave Ingrid as well. I'm not sure she didn't regret it though, since Ingrid was fussy for the last 45 minutes that we were gone and her husband wasn't home to help her before we returned. I think he's still apologizing for that :). We are so grateful for the friends we've made here. The Lord has provided some amazing people to encourage us and increase our joy at our new home. After our date we had a romantic evening that may have involved candles and a massage, but I'm not saying. We had a family day on Saturday. We took the girls to the Manatee Recreation Area so they could get mud in their diapers play by the lake.

Eliza was sleeping in her carseat while we arrived so we played on the playground and Theia decided to have her first accident. Just as another family was arriving to play, she pulled up her dress and proceeded to christen the sand around her. I don't know what got into her. She's never done that before. Oh well, I was beginning to feel left out when I hear everyone else's potty training horror stories.

We actually saw our first alligator since we've been here. I didn't get a picture because it was way out on the lake and just looked like a floating log. We could see it better with Jessie's big zoom lens. We took a lot of nice pictures with his camera but they aren't developed yet so you only get to see the low quality digitals since we sacrificed our nice digital on the altar of 1 year old toilet mischief.

This is me posing as an artsy mom who wears her baby 75% of her day and takes stunning pictures with her high quality camera as a matter of course. Just for the record, I did make this sling myself, but I don't use it very often. I have been trying to get into the habit of using it more, because I do like babywearing. I was carrying Ingrid this morning in the sling that my Mom used to carry me in, and Theia asked if she could wear it. So I put a diaper pin it to make it fit and she was immensely pleased.

Don't you love how toddler's legs and feet are so chubby?

It looked like so much fun that Eliza insisted on wearing it too, for about 8 seconds.