Mow Trouble, Mow Trouble

I've not had time to accurately capture this embarrassing moment until now, which explains why you're just now hearing about it.

'Member when Apes and I made the trip to Bristol, TN, to help throw a surprise birthday party for her grandmother - Mamaw Erma?

Well, the day after the big event, April and I decided to make the short drive to the country and mow the farm.

I knew April's mom, Ginny, would want to go. She did. Mamaw Erma wanted to come along too.

Not necessarily a surprise. Mamaw just turned 86 and still thinks she's ten feet tall and bulletproof.

Which, of course, I love.

In order to haul the riding mower to the farm, we had to take the pick up truck. April always drives, which meant Ginny and I had to squeeze into the t-tiny cab in the back that was designed to hold a box of Kleenex and not two grown women.

Mamaw Erma always rides in the front passenger seat. She doesn't much care for the truck anymore, though. It's a big one and she recently started having difficulty getting into her seat. It usually takes two of us to hoist her up.

Which is exactly what we did on this particular day.

In a warbly voice, she said: "Mercy. I don't know why they make trucks so hard to get into. Seems stupid to me."

I agreed. Stupid. Someone absolutely needs to consider Mamaws and trucks.

We arrived at the farm without issue.

We piled out of the truck. Mowed. Took loads of pictures.

I drank what I thought would be enough liquid.

But instead of water, I was drinking really sweet tea.

Sweet tea + 100 heat + physical labor = not my brightest idea.

I started to feel a bit nauseous.

Here's where I should mention that as a child, I got car sick just looking at a vehicle in motion. We never left home without my mother checking to make sure my "barf bag" was under the seat.

Ready to head home, Ginny and I folded up in the back of the truck and watched as April hoisted Mamaw into her seat.

We started to head down the mountain, mower in tow, the twists and turns doing nothing to help my queasy stomach.

I even said, OUT LOUD: "Hey, guys. I'm feeling really nauseas. I'm just going to shut my eyes for a second."

Everyone but Mamaw (who can't hear well) looked appropriately concerned.

I shut my eyes.

It was helping until April and her mom started talking about their favorite breakfast foods.

Eggs. Ham. Bacon. But without the grease.

On and on and on. And on.

I kept thinking they'd stop. Thinking turned to praying.

I thought about asking them to stop, but was afraid more than words would come out of my mouth.

In my head, I kept repeating: "We're just a few miles from home. A few miles from home."

I was swallowing hard, trying my best not to throw up all over Mamaw Erma's newly set hair.

I'm sure she'd qualify that as stupid, too.

I realized I wasn't going to make it home.

My eyes jumped open, I clasped my hand over my mouth and I shook Ginny's shoulder.

Wide eyed, I began motioning for her to tell April to pull the truck over.

She had no earthly idea what I was trying to communicate.

I pointed, very aggressively, to my hand over my mouth and then pointed to April before pointing to the side of the road.

Nothing. It was like a bad game of charades.

She was going to make me do it. I had to uncover my mouth and speak.

I kept my lips as tightly together as I could and uttered: "PULL OVER! I'm going to THROW UP!"

"OH! My God!" April said, jerking the truck (and trailer) off the road. "Wait! Wait!!"

That's right. Can't be getting the truck all dirty.

Here's where the real hilarity comes in.

April pulled over, but couldn't open her door because of all the cars zooming by.

Ginny was sitting behind April.

I was beside Ginny.

MAMAW was in front of me.

I couldn't get out until Mamaw did.

MAMAW can't hear. She had no idea what was happening. She kept asking "why in the world are we pulled over when home is just over yonder?"

My eyes were bugging out of my head.

I kept hitting Mamaw's seat with the hand that wasn't covering my mouth.

April screamed: "MAMAW! YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE TRUCK! HEATHER IS GOING TO THROW UP!"

Mamaw finally got it - but then she couldn't figure out how to unlock the car door. Old school truck = no power locks.

I couldn't believe it.

"Pull up on the thing, Mamaw! Pull up on the thing!"

Sweet Jesus.

It was painful watching her get out of the truck. She finally managed to climb down and I was out of the car in two seconds.

Just in time.

I threw up every bit of the sweet tea I'd consumed that afternoon.

I could hear April laughing from her perch in the truck.

If Mamaw hadn't been standing right there, and if my mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied....

When I finally lifted my head, I saw exactly where we were.

In front of the cemetery.

That's right.

Nothing like showing my respect for the deceased.

April assured me her Aunt Lisa, who is buried there, probably got a huge kick out of the whole thing.

As for the other hundreds of people who consider that cemetery their final resting place...my apologies.