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Examiner
  • Sandy Turner: It's raining, it's pouring...

  • When it rains, it pours and even though I love the kind that falls from the sky, I'm about to go look for some desert.

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  • When it rains, it pours and even though I love the kind that falls from the sky, I'm about to go look for some desert.
    If it's not one thing, it's another and with just a month to go until he gives his daughter away in marriage, I'm about to give my sweetie another nickname, which may sound a little sour.
    Along with tending to the last minute details of the wedding my car started making strange noises. Typically when this happens and I ask him to take a listen, then the car won't do it again and I look like the person who is hearing things. This time it was obvious and an appointment was made to take it to the car doctor.
    While trying to figure out how to function with just one vehicle, his truck decided it was time to explode the emergency brake and since it's noises were louder than my car it went to the shop first. The week was full of calls from the car guy about the various things that were wrong with both vehicles and of course, the price tag to make them well.
    We were sitting in the front room, trying to make a plan of attack on the bad luck we seemed to be having when he just stopped talking and started staring at the ceiling. I thought I'd lost him. He's gone over the edge into stress land. They say trouble comes in threes, and our third was a crack in the wall coming down from the ceiling as if the house decided to split in half.
    I know I've been in a funk lately worrying about Dad but it didn't help matters when the nursing home called and said he had begun to use the restroom in any room but the restroom. His jogging pants makes easy access, so now he's sporting a new pair of bib overalls which hopefully will make the task harder to accomplish, so it's no longer a free for all.
    When the going gets tough I mow. While gassing up my new mower, which is capable of going faster than the speed of light, he suggested it may be too wet to mow. I threw a little temper tantrum and may have even stomped my foot so he ended the conversation with "don't get stuck in the mud."
    As the grass was flying I was fuming. Just because he's in a bad mood doesn't mean I don't know how to stay out of the mud. I was nearly done and the only thing left was the valley near the pond. It looked dry as I bounded toward it in high gear. It wasn't. Sitting in a mud pit I just kept spinning the tires as mud flew all over me and the mower. Frustrated, I turned it off and just sat there.
    Page 2 of 2 - It was quiet and all I could hear were the birds singing and my mind telling me something I didn't want to admit to. He hasn't been the one who's been in the bad mood this week and although I wanted to blame it on someone else, I've been the sour one.
    I guess sometimes it takes getting a little mud on your face to realize you owe someone an apology.
    Sandy Turner lives in Independence. Email her at sandydownhome@hotmail.com
     
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