We head out of our driveway and I punch R to dial Robb. I begin telling him of my morning. Of Mitchell's meltdown and how well I handled it.
Then he hears my voice say, without exclamation or changing tone,
"And we're going in the ditch."
And then the sound of snow flying.
We had done a 180 into the ditch.
He lets out a frustrated sigh and says, "I'm on my way."
The kids cheer, "That was fun!"
I open the windows to avoid asphyxiation. You know. In case the exhaust pipe is full of snow. Then I decide to check the damage and the exhaust pipe. It's clean so I shut the windows. It's cold here, ya know.
I text twitter that we're in the ditch, cause I'm sure that's more interesting than other things I've tweeted lately. Too bad I don't have internet on my phone or I could actually blog from the ditch....or answer the well wishes of friendly tweets.
But instead, I wait.
On his way to me, Robb picks up a tow rope at our repair shop. They're such nice small town guys.
I take a couple pictures:
Neighbors drive by offering help. One says he did the same thing this week. On this road. So at least I'm not the only one. Except he hit someone. He blames the county, of course. "If they'd just take care of the road!" Did I mention he's 22? Does that mean I drive like a 22 year old?
Did I mention I used to teach driver's education? Ya, forget I just said that.
A girl from the nearest farm comes tearing down her driveway offering their tractor. I tell her my husband is on his way with our pickup, but we'll let her know if we need the assistance of the tractor. I have to give my husband the chance to be the hero, you know. He'd want that, I'm pretty sure.
Robb arrives, and I tell him how glad I am that he doesn't have a "real" job so he can come and rescue me. He's good at rescuing.
He hooks up a tow strap, and the truck doesn't budge the van. It fishtails on the ice packed road.
The guy with the tractor arrives.
They try the tow strap with the tractor and it promptly snaps. The strap, not the tractor.
They shovel around the van.
They shovel some more.
All the while with three kids and a grinning lady watching.
Did you know we have lots of snow here? Yeah.
Robb's shovel breaks.
He drives the 1/2 mile home to retrieve another.
But he does not grab a coat. Or boots. Fleece vest it is. It's like his own strange uniform. Always.
They shovel some more.
Out comes the old frayed tow rope from the repair shop, and I take more pictures.
Of my knight's shining armor:
Tonight, I think I'll call my husband Robb Deere, Rescuer of the Ditched.