our country life

We spent last evening in Fielding. We had a great time. . .playing with cousins, laughing, going on a walk, and eating a yummy dinner (courtesy of Grandma J). Fielding is always a good time.

'Til we have to go home.

It never fails. No matter how long we stay, it's never long enough. Tears always, always surface. We witness wailing and gnashing of teeth. Someday you ought to see it for yourselves. It's a drama of astronomical proportions, and last night was no exception.

To top it off, Ryenne lost her shoe. One of her favorites (and mine). It so happens that she decided to play in the sand, at which time her sandal was rubbing her wrong and she decided to remove them from her feet. I know. . . I know, this sounds innocent enough. But she forgot to take Hoot into account. Hoot the dog. Hoot the dog who loves to carry off shoes and deposit them into the sheep corral. We love Hoot.

So needless to say, at 10:00 last night, as a storm brewed to the west, Courtney, Ryenne and I were traipsing about the sheep pasture, armed with flashlights and searching for the missing sandal. Ryenne was serenading us with sobbing, while Kate optimistically called out "A bit of good news!. . .Grandpa says Hoot usually takes the shoes out about 30 or 40 feet into the pasture and dumps them! That's lucky! She doesn't chew them! . . . That's a bit of good news!" All I could think about were the new cute shoes I was wearing. Nothing to break them in like a little bit of sheep manure.

As the thunder and lightning commenced, we decided to call off the search. We never did find the shoe.

We loaded up and headed home. The girls fell immediately asleep, and we enjoyed a peaceful ride home. That is, until we ran right smack over a skunk about 2 miles from our destination. The closer we got to home, the more the smell permeated our senses, and we decided to run through the car wash quick and let the "bottom blaster" wash the smell off the stinky undercarriage of the van.

We pulled into the car wash at 11:00 at night in the middle of a howling rainstorm. Laughing. And we laughed even harder when the desired "bottom blaster" never worked. Out of order, I guess. Courtney just looked at me and said, "now that's good karma for you".

So. . .this morning we have 4 tired girls, 2 tired parents, 1 clean (but smelly) van, and 5+ prayers to find 1 missing sandal. And the moral of this story is this:

Sometimes life stinks.