Yesterday you learned why Hubby won’t let me carry my wallet without handcuffing it to my person.
Today I’ll tell you how we dealt with my carelessness.
I spoke with the museum about the possibility of overnighting it to me, but with the Thanksgiving holiday so near, I didn’t want to run the risk of having to leave town before it arrived. I wasn’t sure if it would be better to send it to our house, but if I did that they’d have to wait, because I didn’t want it showing up at home before *we* got there!
My dad told me to hold off a bit, because he had an idea.
Before I tell you his idea, you need to know a little bit of our history. When I lived at home, “rich” was when Dad had steady work (he was an ironworker and a pastor. You can guess which one had a salary) for a length of time, and on a Friday payday, he’d take us (in an old, beat-up VW bug that had rust-holes in the floor and no heat) down to Burger King for 99-cent Whoppers – and a milkshake if the electricity was paid up and all. Alternatively, we could go to the mall food court, with a $5 limit to buy anything we wanted (we had to bring him the change). The church (which often met in our home) sometimes bought toilet paper, and more than once I remember people giving us groceries as an early Christmas gift or the like – and it was SO wonderful! I still have this lifestyle burned into my mind, so understand that what I write next really messes with me. Still.
His idea was dependent on the weather for Friday (the day after Thanksgiving, and the day before we were to leave). But it looked like it would be good. He needed to do some things like this for “practice,” and this would be a good opportunity. Plus, he could spend some time with Hubby and my brother, and they could have some guy-time (me? No, I was chained to the stove. I know my place. :)).
His idea was to fly his plane down and pick up my wallet. Yes, fly. His plane [insert all kinds of eyebrow-scrunching and head-spinning here. I. Can’t. Make. Sense. Of. It.]. It’s not without purpose, or faith-stretching, but God has blessed him with a plane (and the license to fly it, which he’s been working/studying towards for years, even through the grocery-gift times).
It was an all-day trip (they had to stop halfway for fuel – not because they couldn’t carry enough fuel for the whole trip, but because they couldn’t carry the Big Boys and enough fuel at the same time.), and an experience Hubby has never enjoyed. He’s flown commercially twice (our first married Thanksgiving, and then to my brother’s wedding in ’06. Hopefully never again.), but that is a far cry from a little 1952 4-person whatever-it-is. And he really liked it. He took some pictures, too!