May and June have come and gone so quickly. We’ve had several visitors and, it seems, a never-ending stream of activities. So far we’ve had Damien, Kyle, Kelly, Brian, and Ian here visiting, much to Liam’s delight. In between, Patrick has been making week-long trips to Bellevue and L.A. for work. I turned 26, had my second Mother’s Day, and our second anniversary (the same day as Chris and Bev’s, coincidentally) all on the same weekend. I took a quilting class at a lovely Victorian house called the Quilt Inn. That quilt is still a work in progress, as well as the one I started for Liam a long time ago. Liam had his first swimming lessons over the past couple weeks at our local YMCA. He took to the water like a little fish and now asks to go to the pool every day. It’s been refreshing to get in the water with these 90+ degree temperatures lately, albeit a little awkward with this watermelon belly I’m sporting.

Say hello to Grady:

He is extremely active, more than I remember Liam being. I can’t believe we still have 8 more weeks to go. Although the time seems to have breezed by, the last few weeks have been more uncomfortable and I’m looking forward to seeing this little guy in person. Liam seems to have taken an immense liking to my belly, and he hugs and talks to it every day. I’m not sure if he understands that there’s a baby in there, but he pays a lot of attention to it. He’s going to be a great big brother. Liam is such a sweet little boy. He’s very well-behaved and he loves babies. I hope we’re so lucky with his siblings.

We’ve been to two gun shows in Fort Worth so far, which have been awesomely awesome. I got a new Smith & Wesson Airweight .38 special snub nose revolver and Patrick got an HK USP .40 compact. Although I have always been partial to the full-sized semi-autos, I’m quite pleased with my Airweight. It’s ideal for carrying day to day. One day I WILL get my Kimber 1911 in .45, though.

Patrick was terribly sad about the recent demise of his Jimmy, so I got him a new truck. It’s an ‘06 Chevy Silverado Crew Cab. Needless to say, he’s happy again.

Damien is coming into town for the 4th of July! There’s going to be a parade & festivities in the square that weekend. I’m sure I’ll have more stories to tell because Patrick + Damien + fireworks=……….well, you get the idea.

On Saturday, Patrick was on his way home from L.A. and he broke down in west Texas, about 150 miles east of El Paso. The Jimmy overheated and DIED somewhere in the desert. A nice old Mexican tow truck driver showed up and towed him to the next “town”, which consists of a truck stop, a motel, a mechanic, and perhaps a couple other dinky businesses. The tow truck driver said that he was on his way to Odessa to pick someone up and that he was the only tow truck that worked that stretch of road, so Patrick had been lucky he’d been spotted or he’d have been waiting there for at least four hours. They dropped the Jimmy off in front of the mechanic and Patrick went across the street to get a motel room for the night. Of course we were none too pleased with the situation because it was Saturday evening and no small-town mechanic in Texas would be open on Sunday, so Patrick and the Jimmy would have to wait there until Monday morning before they could even get it looked at. He might be stuck there for days waiting for repairs. It was likely that the problem was serious and it would cost a lot to fix anyway. I kept hearing phrases like “cracked engine block” and “blown head gasket” coming out of Patrick’s mouth. I told him that I would be coming to pick him up and tow the Jimmy back here so we could deal with it from home. Preggers to the rescue!

The next morning I dropped Liam off at Chris and Beverly’s, borrowed a hitch from Chris and had him check the oil. Then I picked up an auto trailer from our local U-Haul for around $60, and Brian and I began our 457 mile journey to pick up my stranded husband in Van Horn, TX. I couldn’t go very fast because of the auto trailer, so I set the cruise control to 65 mph. Approaching the small town of De Leon, I noticed that the speed limit suddenly dropped from 70 to 50 mph, and I thought to myself that it was probably one of those places that made all their money from speeding tickets. I continued eating my cheeseburger and cruised on through. A couple miles later I looked in my rear view and, lo and behold… the flashing lights of a cop car were bearing down on me. For a few seconds I dared to hope that he would blow by me on his way to pick up some fresh donuts, but somehow I knew it wasn’t going to go down like that this time. I pulled over and took out my license and insurance before he got to the car, because even though my gun was still snugly away from view in the zippered compartment, I didn’t want to mess with my purse while he was peering in the window.

“I clocked you going 48 in a 30. Is there some emergency you need to tell me about?”

What? The speed limit was 30? Do they ask you about your emergency so they can laugh at you and write the ticket anyway? “My husband is stranded in the desert and we’re going to pick him up.”

He went back to his car to write up my ticket. A fat black cloud rolled over us and it started to rain.

When he came back I complained that the last sign I saw was the 50 mph one that came abruptly after the 70 mph one. “I didn’t even see the 30 mph one!”

“Yeah, it does drop down very quickly. Sign here. This paper will tell you how much the ticket will be. If you do a defensive driving course it won’t go on your license. Have a nice day.”

I glanced at the paper before deciding that I really didn’t even care, as I had more pressing concerns on my mind. I had to get to Pat before daylight ran out. Luckily that’s not until around 9:00 p.m. at this time of year.

Our journey continued uneventfully and after much beef jerky, coffee, Limon Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and a couple pee stops, we arrived in Van Horn. Immediately upon entering the motel room Pat had stayed in, I remarked to Brian that it was the type of seedy place you usually only see in movies. At least it looked relatively clean. Later on, Pat told us that some movie with Tommy Lee Jones had been filmed at that motel.

Patrick backed the trailer up in front of the Jimmy and unhooked it. Then he attached a tow cable to the back of the Yukon and pulled the Jimmy up onto the auto trailer as Brian steered. I looked on skeptically from a safe distance, but it worked flawlessly. They secured the Jimmy and that was that. We were on our way back home to Granbury, where we arrived at around 7:30 a.m., dead tired and delirious. Pat returned the trailer and picked up Liam while I collapsed in bed. Luckily Liam was still sleepy so he cuddled up with us and dozed off.

All in all, I’m very thankful that even though we had an unfortunate situation to deal with, the solution was readily available; nothing else major happened, and we got home safe and sound without breaking the bank!