Out of the Mouths of Babes

No stitching report today . . .we have traveled a couple of hundred miles to visit The Flash and The Big Kid and The Big Kid's Wife.

The drive up yesterday was not pleasant.

There was the lake traffic before we even made it 30 miles from home. We are blessed with several large lakes in our area, perfect areas for boating, water sports, and relaxation. For some reason, people who have homes on the lake, whether year-round or week-end, all seem to want to go to them on Friday afternoon--so there are lake traffic delays. I quite honestly think you could leave at 5 a.m. on Friday and still get into lake traffic.

I had to drive because Dearly Beloved had to work Thursday night. I was tired before we left. The Plague Cough is still with me and I am so tired of coughing as well as from coughing, that I have asked The Big Kid's Wife, who is a Reiki practitioner, to Reiki my bronchial tubes while we're here. (I'm the pragmatic and practical person who thinks the best reasons for living in the 21st century are Modern Medicine, Modern Plumbing, and the Ability to take Online Needlework Classes. I do not go in for alternative methods of healing--but I'm willing to give this a shot.)

Then the rains came. It took us about an hour to go 30 miles because the rain was so torrential I was driving by the tail lights of the car in front of me. There was no visibility, and we were on the winding mountain road part of the journey. Dearly Beloved, who had been sleeping until the rain hit, was wide awake and trying to help navigate the stormy seas--because it felt more like guiding a boat than driving a car.

We finally arrived at our destination almost two hours later than it usually takes. At that point, it was almost The Flash's bedtime, but we wanted to at least give him a hug and read a story. So we stopped by on our way to get dinner (we had told them we'd take care of ourselves when it became obvious we were going to be very late in arriving).

We were asked what we were going to do with ourselves for the rest of the evening. I said I thought we'd get a bite to eat, then go to our hotel, fall facedown on the bed, and die.

The Flash, with concern in his voice, said, "Are you going to die tonight?"

Ah, the literal mind of a 6 year old . . ."No, we're going to sleep so soundly it will be like we're dead, but we're not planning to die."

"Well," said he. "You do know you're kind of old."

We all laughed . . . until we got back to the hotel to discover that the only elevator in the place was out of order, and we had to climb the stairs to the third floor.

Definitely kind of old.