I got a call from my husband this morning asking if I would possibly have time to deliver lunch to him and the guys out working on the bulldozer.
“Sure”, I said, “What is the exact Latitude and Longitude of your location?”
“Well, I think it would be faster if you’d walk.”
“Walk?” I asked.
“Yeah. Well… okay, you know that trail I started to take you on and then 10 minutes into it, you wanted to know where we were in relation to the road, so I took you up the hill and then we cut back to the gravel road and went back home?”
“Uh-huh…” I replied, not sure about the whole idea of me wandering around in the woods with a tub of Drowned in Butter Cookies and a basket of Jalapeno Chicken. Granted, if I got lost, which is not completely out of the question seeing as how it is a documented occurrence in my past, I would have plenty of chicken to sustain life for at least a week… whether it’s my life or the life of a hungry, rabid animal was the real concern.
Which brings me to the issue of attire, because almost everything I think about revolves around attire.
I’ve gotten real good at translating my husband’s words into the outfit I’m supposed to wear on any given occasion.
Delivering lunches into the woods being an occasion.
“Just take that trail (Rock And Roll Cowgirl Jeans) past the barbed wire fence (old fitted T-shirt). You should be able to hear the dozer, then you can just follow the sound. …And watch out for rattlesnakes and copperheads (tall leather boots), we’ve seen a lot lately.”
I persuaded Osage to tag along since I didn’t have my little braves to keep me company.
I’m not sure if you’ve met Osage.
Here he is. He was real excited about delivering lunch.
We sometimes call him Osager or Osagerader. Not sure where Osagerader came from, but I think it stems from my four-year-old’s term for Gatorade. He calls it Gatorader.
Fifteen minutes into the trail, and when I say trail I mean a faint, narrow path where cattle, deer, bobcat or coyotes frequent…. I heard the purr of what I hoped was a motor. Ten more minutes into the unknown, I heard voices. Better yet, they sounded familiar.
“I THINK WE CAN CUT BACK OVER THIS WAY.”
I translated this to “I SURE HOPE PIPER MADE JALAPENO CHICKEN.”
Then I heard, “YA THINK SO? WHAT IF WE GO UP THE HILL THATA WAY THEN HEAD BACK DOWN OVER THE OTHER SIDE OF THOSE ROCKS.”
This again was translated to, “REALLY? I WAS HOPING SHE MADE SOME DROWNED IN BUTTER COOKIES.”
I love it when lunch is the highlight of their day.