I mentioned that Waffle, James's lovey, went missing several weeks ago during The Week of Car Drama. We gave up on ever finding it again after checking lost and founds at church, preschool, the rental car place, and several nearby Sonic locations. We checked the house, we checked the cars, we checked his room. It was gone. We were all so sad. James moved on to another lovey we call Sunspot that was given to him by the wonderful women of the Ester circle at our church.
Saturday afternoon we went to a wedding. The reception was at a ranch way out in the country (AKA five miles from the interstate but we did not know that until later as you will see). Ryan and I drove down a winding country road, admiring the quaint farmhouses and tranquil pastoral scenery and enjoying each other's (kid free!) company.
And then a house started coming straight for us. Half of a double wide was headed straight for us on the opposite side of the quaint little country road. Ryan swerved the minivan onto the grassy shoulder to avoid colliding with someone's living room and all was well.
But then I looked at the map again. "Uh, Ryan?" I said calmly. "If this map is to scale, then I think we've missed our turn. You see, the drive from the church to the exit was this far..." I held out my fingers as if holding a tennis ball..."and the drive from the exit to the turn is only this far..." collapse fingers to width of a marble.
"Huh." says Ryan as he continues hurtling us deeper into the countryside, which is starting to look less quaint now that I have no idea where we are.
"Can you Google it on your phone?" I ask Ryan, handing him the card with the name of the event center. He fiddles with his phone. He can't get a signal. He uses Jim Bob Wireless and I swear he bought his phone off the back of a truck.
"Ugh, that thing is worthless," I observe. "Let me ask some friends." So I start calling friends with storm chasing experience because they give the best directions when it comes to remote country roads. No one is answering. We continue to drive further into a Lyle Lovett song.
Finally, I text Miss N. "Hey, how are the kids? Could you Google the reception place for me? I think we're lost. Heh heh."
She texts back, "I can't find it on Google near here, is it in [town two hours away]?"
I begin to sweat. And swear loudly. I hate getting lost. Hate it. Nothing makes me more tense. I open and close my phone over and over with my sweaty hands. Ryan leaves me in the car at a gas station so he can go ask for directions from the middle of nowhere to the middle of nowhere. I text Miss N back. "No, I don't think that's it. Thanks anyway."
Ryan turns the car around and heads back the way we came. Through the quaint little town, through the fields, past the place where we almost got side swiped by a wrap-around porch. I'm still flustered and angry about being lost. It is not a pretty side of me. I just want to go home, even though I know we'll have fun at the reception. Grouchy, grouchy, grouchy. Such a joy to be with.
Then my phone chirps. It's a text! From civilization!
From Miss N: "Oh, by the way, Charlie found Waffle behind the bookshelf in the playroom!"
"OH MY GOSH!" I shriek so sharply that Ryan almost swerves off the road.
He looks at me, incredulous, "WHAT?" he asks.
"CHARLIE FOUND WAFFLE!!"
And we both started laughing. I could sing I am so happy. Let's drive around in circles, some more, Ryan, can't get me down now!!
And then we see the prominent sign directing us to the wedding reception that somehow we'd missed the first time and went on to have a lovely evening of dinner and dancing in the country.