RIP

Never fear Amylynn.  Self recrimination due to extreme humiliation is not far away with me around.  Note to self (and any other potential would-be-moronic-masqueraders)….Do NOT, under any circumstances, no matter how badly you think you want to, take a 4 year old with a mild fever who is appropriately asleep in the jogging stroller she outgrew, the demonic poodle and a bottle of water out for a stroll on a seemingly mild, 80 degree day in the desert.  At 1pm.    Well, technically not the desert per se, but a trail overlooking the desert.  Oh, and did I mention I have a mild fever of my own?  It was just a sore throat this morning, but now I fear I have a full blown case of Ebola.  Apparently physical exertion while fighting Ebola is a bad thing. 

Did I also mention that my archaic jogging stroller (which, I will admit, has never reached jogging speed in it’s entire existence) has a pesky flat tire that requires more sweet talk and pumping than any man alive?  Getting the full picture here??  And of course I was wearing my Quill Sisters t-shirt just to round out the whole experience. 

I wasn’t actually alarmed until I made it about a mile away then curved around on a section of trail I had never been on before.   I had just been thinking that the walk wasn’t the best idea, but with the poodle trotting along and the sweet girl asleep, I had figured I could push through.

Apparently, I had been going downhill the whole way.  What’s even more amazing?  I didn’t even know there were hills where I live.  But from the bottom, looking up at a slope the entire direction towards home, I apparently had hiked down Kilimanjaro. 

And one more tasty tidbit as I began the climb home…it was also windy.  And I had just turned into it.  My poodle does not do well in the wind.  He seems to think every ruffle of his fur is an attack from an unseen boogey-man.  He jumps in the air and spins 360 degrees.  And barks at me.  He refuses to walk forward and pulls backward on the leash as if I am asking him to walk over flames.  If not for my daughter’s love of the brain-damaged fur ball, I may have released him into the desert and chalked it up to the fever.   

I really wish I could tell you the rest.  It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I need to get my sleep before HAZMAT shows up to evacuate my house.  Be assured that there was swearing, poodle hijinks, cursing, tire pumping, small rests in the frugal, selfish shade of barrel cacti, much water drinking and more swearing.  

I had never been so happy to see my house.  The poodle had gotten tossed into the basket under the stroller somewhere on the trail because he absolutely refused to budge.  And my little daughter snoozed the whole way, in the shade, with her favorite blankie as a pillow.

It was nice knowing everyone.  I bequeath my unfinished stories to my sisters, Ava and Amylynn.