If I can only find the words

We are off to the Garden Tour....

Maybe I should start with is took me til Tuesday afternoon to be rid of the headache I got on Saturday on my outing with friends. Try to envision a car full, I mean FULL, of women. On the road and really having no idea where they are going. Well, they have some idea but really no idea. How my driving didn't get us into a serious accident I don't know. I guess someone was watching over us.

So here we are all comfy in my little hybrid. The little car (love my Peggy Sue) holds five normal sized adults quite comfortably. Normal being the operative word here. On to the interstate, over the bridge and into the foreign lands of another state we go. We are armed with our umbrella's, our cell phones, Peggy Sue's in dash GPS, our guidebooks for the day and the anticipation of much laughter. And yes, we look like a motley crew of tourists with our tickets looped around jacket buttons or pocketbook handles. Oh we are just the kind of group people stare at.

So off to the first location and a walk through the lovely garden, by the pond and the Iris'....how do they get their iris's to bloom already? The secrets of the home owner, amateur horticulturist never to be shared. I wonder if they used a sun lamp...... Leaving the garden we enter the homeowner's wood working shed. What a treat and what a talented man. What beautiful pieces which he encouraged us to pick up and handle. We oh and aw and with that we are off to the next location......Punch that address into Peggy Sue and go.

My poor brother is following along behind in his truck and lord knows what he is thinking. I blink left but turn right. I zig and zag back and forth from lane to lane and of course make the quick turn with out a signal at all. Peggy Sue directs us to the next legal u turn. And then there was the cul de sac that we circled and waved to my brother as he must be thinking "What the hell". I can only imagine that we resemble Ethel and Lucy if they were shoe horned into a car and on an excursion. And the four women in the car are telling me to turn here, go there. Are we there yet? Someone has to pee. Another wants a cigarette. And yet another is having a hotflash. We are on our adventure. In the back seat at I turn around I see my girl friend hanging on for dear life to the "ah shit" handle. And I think......did I take that last corner too fast......nah. Did I mention, someone wants chocolate?

So fast forward, in oh so many ways, to house number six or seven in our excursion of the house and garden tour. This is an 8 acre estate with little gardens and found and reclaimed statues and yard art all around. Somehow my description pales to the real thing. As we approach there is a woman standing in between the christmas trees. Odd me thinks but for anyone looking in the windows as us, I have no right to talk odd. So I slow because now she is waving me into the yard. I hesitate because I can see the perfectly good driveway not 50 yards ahead. But she beckons. Now no one in the car is paying attention. They are after all either holding on, texting someone or something. As a turn into the yard, I can now see that mulch has been thrown out as a driveway. Not a dirt road but a mulch road. And still I wonder, why aren't we using the driveway? So this little makeshift road scares me but I resolve to proceed. Now my co-horts I am sure are oblivious as the hooting and hollering and hullabaloo resonates from the back seat. I am not 25 feet in and I have the sinking feeling I am going to get stuck. What what what! How can I get stuck? All that mulch has to be good for traction. Right? Well Wrong! As I trudge forward and the car slows there is a strange feeling beneath my feet. I feel the mulch under the floor boards and I find myself suspended over the trail as the underbelly of my car rests on the hump between the tire tracks. I am at a standstill. I am stuck. I can not move. OK, so the traffic directing little lady all nice and crispy and clean is telling me to back up. OK be-otch, let me spin my tires and splatter you with mulch. What does stuck - I can't move mean? Someone from the back says, put it in low. It's a hybrid! I have drive, reverse and park. Ok girls, you need to get out and push. Well the happy sounds have ceased. Out they get......and I ease on the gas in anticipation of them pushing. Well low and behold I can move. There is no need for any pushing. Now and forever more, my passengers are to be known as "the fat asses". I didn't even name them they named themselves. Once they exited, just removing their weight and I sailed on out of there. So I for one rejoice for the fat asses of the world!

Oh and the headache was not from anguish but any means. I think I laughed more in one day they I had in the last six months. It wore me out. I rested all day Sunday. The escapades of lunch are for another day.