Great. Grand. Wonderful.

Look at these two.

Do they look like vicious canines who would slaughter precious chicks?

Alas.  They did.  As mentioned in my last post.  We have since boarded all the chicks up again in the coop so the poor creatures cannot see the light of day.  When you open the door to offer them food and water, they scatter and take cover.  And do we blame them?

No, Reader.  We do not.  You did not see the atrocities that happened to their comrades.  But I did.  And I was kind enough to not show you photgraphic evidence.

I have been working so hard at making my coop pleasant and lovely.  And when I say that, I of course mean, the boys and David have worked hard at making a flower bed around the coop and hanging window boxes and such for me so the coop could look nice.

The poor apple tree.  It got ran over by a four wheeler.  David, who did not run it over, came into the house and informed me:

Your apple tree.  Dead.  Done.  Goner.

He was frustrated.  Sometimes he gets frustrated whilst working with the teens.  Anyways, I took some green painter’s tape and taped up the split trunk and we are pretending all is well and it is blooming so who knows?  There should be chicks pecking the ground behind there, but that is where the slaughter happened.  So they are boarded up for now.

Look!  My student, Al, and his mama gave me a “We appreciate you” flower basket.

And I hung it on my coop!  The coop with the traumatized chicks!

You may ask, “Taylor.  Did you notice the coop was splattered with mud?”

And I will say, “YUP.”

It is what it is.

Let’s talk about front doors.

While I was painting the front door, David walked by and commented:

“In and out, huh?”

And I said, “What?” and he walked away and I stared and I thought and I stared and I thought and I had absolutely no idea what on earth he was saying, so I continued with my task.

And then he hung the door and it all became clear.

I painted the outside Sea Serpent Blue.

AND the inside.

Oops.

Now what?

Nothing, that’s what.  It will stay like that for awhile.  Just like the mud on my coop.

***

Many years ago, when Teller was a young girl in driver’s ed, she had an instructor who wore Hammer pants.

Reader.  Do you know what Hammer pants are?

He was a character, and, coincidentally, he is still a driver’s ed instructor and he instructed Hadley.

Anyways.

Mr. Hammer Pants scared the living daylights out of me.  Every single class, he told us of a teen car accident death and I was sure I would never survive the open road.  One such lesson was on getting a blow out.  Mr. Hammer Pants made me feel like if one were to get a blowout, the car would come out of control and you could not steer or brake or anything and certain death was upon you.  I have never had a blowout, but I have been terrified of them all the same.

And then.

Mother’s Day.

On Mother’s Day, David announced his truck, yes the one the caught fire only a few days ago, was, once again, broken down.  So he borrowed my car with a trailer to do something important and managed to get a flat tire.

Me:  What do you do, exactly?  How do you drive?  I have never had a flat tire or a car catch fire?  What is your secret?

Anyways, he went and repaired the flat and told me it would buy us some time.

Great.  Grand.  Wonderful.

Then we had to go to town.  We had plans to see his Mama and company for Mother’s Day.  We were having lunch at 1:30 and the Dudes were furious at me that they were not presented with a noonday meal around 12, which is child abuse.

David left a bit early.  He was taking his truck to a mechanic and I was to meet him there and pick him up.

David:  If it breaks down, the repair will be $15,000.

Great.  Grand.  Wonderful.

So, he toodled off to town with the boys and I left later with the girls and then, and you had better sit down for this-

I had a blowout.

!

ON MOTHER’S DAY.

It was extremely anticlimatic and I did not go soaring through the air or careening out of control.  I felt something was wrong and I pulled over calmly.

The end.

Great.  Grand.  Wonderful.

So, I call David, and he was like, “Are you serious, you had a blowout?” And I was like, “What would be my motivaton to prank you about such a thing?” So he had to take the soon-to-be $15,000 broken down truck and toodled back to where I was, stranded on the road.

ON MOTHER’S DAY.

David and the boys pull up, all three males swing into action like the Marx brothers and LD runs and puts rocks in front of my tires and I did not know why he did that for at least 24 hours.

My Sweet Infiniti has a spare tire under the car, but my Sweet Infiniti does not have the jack and tool kit to get the tire.  Which is apparently essential.

Great.  Grand.  Wonderful.

So, David, who dressed up for his Mama’s special lunch, had to lay under my car for TWO SOLID HOURS and try to pry this tire down from the Sweet Infiniti.

Cars were zooming past us at 60-70 miles per hour and the boys kept getting close to the white line and I about flipped my lid.  Because I prefer safety.

David kept shout-requesting tools from under the Sweet Infiniti and we would run to his truck and see if he had them.

David:  CAN YOU FIND A HAMMER?

I would scamper on over to the truck and return with:

I HAVE FOUND TWO AXES, A WRENCH, AND SEVERAL TIE DOWN STRAPS.

Kate’s car was only a few miles from where we were.  Don’t ask why, it is too long to explain and matters not one bit.  David told Kate and I to take the truck and go fetch Kate’s car.  No one knew why, but you tend to obey someone who is in dress clothes on the ground of a highway under a car for two hours.

David:  But if the truck breaks down, it is $15000.

Me:  How will I know if it is breaking down?  What do I do?

David:  Nothing.

And, Reader, I am just hopeful it will not burst into flames.

ON MOTHER’S DAY.

We get Kate’s car and now we have the Infiniti, truck and her car on the side of the road and we use her jack/tool kit, but the Sweet Infiniti is all full of itself and has a special tool kit that is different from all others with a stupid t-shaped end and her kit won’t work.  So I call all the auto stores in town and everyone is like, “Yeah, you are going to have to special order that online.”

Meanwhile, the boys are furious with me because it is like 3pm and they have not been fed.

ON MOTHER’S DAY.

David finally tells me to call a tow truck.  So I start to Google that when he shouts,

GOT IT!

And just then, Reader, the spare tire dropped.

David, who had literal dirt in his ears, came out from under the car in his nice, albeit filthy, button down shirt rolling the spare out, proving, once again, that not all heroes wear capes.

So, now we had to get both the Sweet Infiniti and the truck to the same mechanic and hope that the truck would not break down and cost us $15000.

And we made it and my dad let us borrow his truck, the end.

We were nearly three hours late to David’s Mamas Mother’s Day lunch.  They warmed up leftoversand the boys ate everything in sight like piranhas.  And my Mother in Law was not even irritated at us.  She is probably used to our antics.  She has known David for a long time, after all.

Then we had to rush back home!  Because I was hosting dinner for my mom and Sisters Meagan and Jess were arriving.

Great.  Grand.  Wonderful.

We were late to the party we hosted, but all was well and we ate taco stuff and I haven’t heard how much the truck will cost, but I don’t think it will cost $15,000.

The End.