So, to recap.
First, we went to the local prison. Because velcro sneakers make me uncomfortable. (And in case you were wondering, all of my worrying was for naught: the velcro sneakers were greeted with all kinds of enthusiasm and fond memories of a childhood that was, apparently, full of velcro sneakers. Whew.)
Then, we went to buy some bacon, and then during a search for Goya prodects we narrowly escaped a cult.
It was a long morning.
Emotionally drained, we returned posthaste to the rolling fields of the countryside we call our home. Our trip to the big city had been a strange mix of success and disappointments. As we whizzed along in the sunshine listening to the radio and reflecting on our adventures, we came around a sharp turn, and slowed as a stop sign appeared ahead of us. As I downshifted, my friend sat bolt upright and her head turned to watch something that had caught her eye on the side of the road.
I cannot say for certain if that "something" was her truck, or her 4 year old sitting on the embankment - because both were there at the intersection. Her mother was sitting in the driver's seat of the truck, which was pulled over with the hood up. A denim clad, boot wearing rear end was hanging out of the engine.
Those boots, and that rear end, were attached to a cowboy.
A real live cowboy.
I pulled over immediately. Not that I wouldn't have ANYWAY, mind you. I mean my goodness, there was a small child involved.
We hurried across the road to see just what, exactly, was going on. And also to see if the cowboy was single.
I will pause for a moment to explain that my friend's mother has some sort of....I don't even know what to call it. Maybe a guy could explain it better. Pheramones, or something. From what I can gather, she has a way with men. And she is just about the only grandmother of a certain age that I know who can break down on the side of a road and have a hot, 20-something cowboy come to her rescue within minutes.
I mean, in my personal experience, when my car has broken down, I was lucky if I could get AAA to show up to help me within 3 hours. There were no cowboys. None. I'm not bitter or anything, I'm just making an observation.
Anyway, we get up to the truck, and there's the kid, and the grandma, and (god help me) the cowboy, and he does that cowboy thing where he pushes his hat back up off his forehead with the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow and I was waiting for him to say "Howdy" or some other sexy cowboy something or other.
But instead, he says "Hallo" and it turns out, he was an Aussie. That's right. A hot, outback cowboy, in a plaid shirt and a leather cowboy hat and I just had to walk away. It was too much.
So the grandma leans over the side of the engine and continues working her magic over this guy - this cowboy - who immediately takes off his hat and then he stretched out right there on the ground, in the dirt, scooched himself under the engine block and kept up a running commentary about what was broken and what part was missing and WHOCARESITSAFUCKINGCOWBOYANAUSTRALIANCOWBOYOHMYGODJUSTKEEPTALKINGYOURACCENTISSOHOT.
All I have to say is this: I hope to god that I will someday learn this woman's secret and her siren song that brings young hot men to her rescue, if only just for entertainment purposes.
After a quick trip to my house for jugs of water to pour directly into the engine - and then watch run directly out of the engine and onto the formerly dry and dusty ground - and a quick drive to my friend's house to return her and her kid (leaving her mother unsupervised with the aforementioned hot aussie cowboy which was not what I had in mind but hey, she's the one with the magic man-powers) I still had to go teach cooking to 16 elementary school kids, and then I had to go to work, and I was already completely exhausted. I got to the school and reached in my backseat for the packages that the guy at the "store" had handed me.
They expired in February. Of last year.
Because that was so not a real store.
I'm just saying.
5 hours ago