If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all

Sometimes life feels like that, even when I am trying to count my blessings, which are many and varied just now.

The flight back was beautiful. I had a window seat straight through on the same plane with an hour and a piece layover in Twin Cities. I love the true topography of the planet miles below me; the expanse of desert slowly being eaten away by homes at its edges; the strange circles of crops instead of the squares and rectangles of home; the hills, the valleys of green; mountains of clouds and clouded mountains as we passed the Rockies. I could see that San Diego were in an old river bed, just like 2tall told me and I wondered if that was a good idea. After the Great Divide it clouded up and I dozed off a little.

My seat mates were an affectionate couple, holding hands for the landing, just back from a trip to Alaska. My uncle just left with his wife for that tour. They were grown ups, though and the conversation was limited. Dannie was more fun. If I wasn't napping I read my book from the swap meet. I also had tasty treats to snack on, a last minute gift from my dear friend. All was right with the world.

Then we hit Twin City airport. One of the stews was going out for a smoke and I thought I had lots of time so I would tag along and avoid the withdrawal I went through on the flight out. Three slideways, 2 escalators, one up and one down and an elevator and we were out! We lit up and chatted about the strike and the news paper stories we had read. Then she GOT ON A BUS and left me standing there! Aw crikey!

I sucked down a second smoke to still the terror in my breast and tremors in my knees. We must have come more than a mile and I had no one to ask for directions back! I had to clear inspection again, too, because I had been outside the safe zone. That meant a full scan because of the steel hip. Oh crap and darn!

I probably screwed up at the first escalator. When I found a human at a kiosk I asked him to tell me which gate to go to and he sent me to the G's. I went over the slide ways following the signs and up another escalator. Only there was no gate G of the number on my ticket. I finally found a human who could read and they told me it was gate C that number. Just go straight across on the slide way.

The clock is ticking in my head, I am winded from hauling the one bag I leave no where (laptop, ID, camera) and trying to hurry. My face is hot and I am dripping with the humidity and the stress. C gates are WAY over there! I will never make it. Nope.

Then this nice old man in a golf cart starts past me. I shout and wave my ticket. He acknowleges me and turns around. I ask if he can help, he says they work for tips, I'm good with that and I hand him my boarding pass. He says, "It's forty five minutes before take off." Great! I have to board a half hour before take off. Then he adds, "It's about a mile over to the gate." as he pulls out and starts really traveling! That little buggy was fast!

I was catching my breath and he was telling me how easy it is to hear the letters C and G wrong, how big the airport is and a lot of other stuff I couldn't hear over my panting. I felt so much better knowing that I was going to make the flight I just sat there and nodded and tried to get settled back down.

I made it back just as they called for the handicapped to load. I wondered if almost in cardiac arrest counted as I tipped the nice man well and sincerely told him thank you. I went to wait my turn to board. The take off was great, the view was nice and then clouds caught up with us. I read some more of my book and chewed my gum to keep my ears working. Everything was back under control.

Then we landed. I had left with just carry ons but I knew I would need a bag for the way back. My new friend, Kay, found me the perfect suitcase at the place she worked for about nine bucks - my kind of price. It was loaded with boxes and dirty clothes for padding. I managed to stagger over to the pick up area and it was almost the last one out. Now, I know it didn't weigh 50 pounds because we scaled it to be sure, but the darn thing was heavy! I got it snagged on the first pass and hooked up the cute little leash it came with. Three of the wheels worked great. That isn't enough to make it tow well though. So I carried it out to the waiting area outside.

Now all I had to do was wait for Jones to show up. Which I did. Almost forty five minutes later I was still waiting and, of course, now I was worried. I tried to call the house and his folk's home. No answer. I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to leave and miss them but I wanted to head home. I was on my third smoke when my cell phone rang. It was Jones' step dad. The white truck had broken a tie rod or thrown a ball joint and Jones was walking to his folks place. His mom was out with the van and there was no way to get me. Could I take a cab to their place? I told him I'd call back in a minute to give myself time to think.

This was bad. The truck would have to be towed. (money) and fixed (money) and I would have to hope little red truck was fixed (money), Jones' would be out of a vehicle as I had told him the only thing that would limit his time to have wheels would be if I had to have it. I'd say this qualified and it meant that loaner truck deal was cancelled by the same whatever power that had me set it up in the first place. This was bad.

I said a little prayer and called my son's house. He is usually only home Sunday and Monday but I got lucky. He answered. He came without even a heavy sigh, bless him. While I was waiting I got a second call from Jones himself who had made it safely home. He was supposed to meet us at a very bad corner gas station so I could have the key to get the truck towed. We got me loaded up in the little car and I got out of there.

The #1Son got us to the waiting place and we waited again. I finally gave up and called to find out the parents had gone to bed before Jones could ask for the car keys and he didn't want to wake them up. We got out of the nasty area of town and went to Jones' place. As he gave me the key I realized he really couldn't tell me where he left the truck. He has kind of a mental block for directions that makes my inability to get around without a map look minimal. We squeezed him into the back seat and headed back to the bad side of town.

The truck was about four blocks from the first place we waited. Jones and I emptied it out while the #1son stood watch. For midnight there was still a lot of partying and roaming going on. It was not a nice place to be. The boy got us out of there and we dropped Jones off at his folks. I gave him some cash for gas for his folks van as I would have no way for him to get to work from the house.

We said good night and left. We scooted over to the boy's house and played "Who will tow my truck?" I called the guys that towed Mom back at Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. They would not go into that area after dark. We had been there twice! EEEK! I set it up for them to tow it the next day, borrowed the boy's car and went home. I got there at one thirty in the morning to let out my dogs and cats who had all been left in. This was backwards from the proper procedure but Jones had expected to be gone about two hours and so I wasn't bent about it.

Boy, were they ever glad to see me! I was just as glad to be back. I got my bags in the house, through the john to my room and went back to freshen up. I discovered the rugs were soaked when they squished as I stepped on them. I flipped on a light. The seat was up. The throne had been vomited in and more and was not holding water the correct amount of water.

There had been a problem before I left but I thought I had fixed it. Obviously not, but to just leave it like that, ew. It was nasty, gross and icky. I ran a rag of bleach over the seat and did what I had to do then went to get the dog's water bucket to flush it instead of risking having that mess overflow. There wasn't even a half inch of water in that bucket. This is VERY bad. I never leave my animals without water EVER. It has to be full for the cats to reach as they won't drink out of their own cute little dishes. Now I was disturbed.

I filled the bucket, slopped enough in the throne to plunge with, refilled the bucket and let the dogs have at it. But my oldest cat beat them to it! This is very bad. He thinks he ranks the dogs but he doesn't take cuts....more later on that.

I plunged and cleared the mess, slathered it with toliet bowl cleaner, picked up the wet rugs to throw in the washer and found another rug and a towel already in there. I tossed them in the dryer and cranked it up, then soaped and started the washer.

I thought, "What the heck!" and went back to the bathroom, saw the tub looked like crap and sprayed it down, too, did the sink for good measure, grabbed the bleach and the mop and hit the floor as well. I did the towel under your feet dance to get back in and scrub everything off. I crossed my fingers, flushed and it went just like down town, no problem. I slid me and the towel back out the door, tossed the rugs into the dryer after folding the two items in it and thought, "Now I need a beverage and a smoke."

I hadn't been in the kitchen yet. There was a sink full of dishes. Well, what the hay, no big whoop. I got a glass of water and found my smokes. I decided a snack might be in order, as I had not eaten all day except trail food, so I turned back to the fridge. There was an empty spot on the floor where my gallon cider jug of pennies should have been.

I looked to the tea cart. There was an empty spot where my green half gallon canning jar with the zinc lid full of pennies should have been.

I went back to my room and turned on the lights. The gladiola vase the mate gave me that was three quarters full of pennies was gone. The "save and roll" coin banks, all three of them were empty. I moved the blue bear we won at the fair in Lake City one fourth of July and saw the small gold glass pig was still there. "Well, you missed one!" I thought to myself. But he cleaned out the little blue bird house where I had the wheats and special pennies saved.

Jones would not know it but I try to think ahead, as hard as that is for me, and I worried he might run short on cash for gas and food so I had stashed some cash at the house. If he would have told me he had a problem I would have told him where the stash was. I checked, he hadn't found the bills I tucked back for him. I checked the bibles, he missed the two dollar bills and such I use as bookmarks, too.

We had talked several times during my visit. He said nothing of being short any of the times we talked until the night before I was heading home. I thought the little stash would do it so I directed him to the fourteen bucks in quarters and didn't mention the rest. That should have gotten us to the airport and home.

I really started looking now. The peach tree schnappes and the last of my mate's peppermint I had filled his flask I got him for Christmas with were empty. All the burbon and whiskey were down to almost the last shot. One had only been three shots down. The only thing left was some vodka that wasn't cracked yet.

I went to the garage. The roll of quarters I keep on my bike was gone. I went back in the house and pulled the little safe down. He missed that, too. So I wasn't totally wiped out of my cash savings, just almost. And, if this deal completes correctly, I won't miss the money.

But everything I cleaned out of the mate's, from his leather jacket to his drawers, had pennies in it. They were added to the vase he gave me on the dresser in my room. The grands and the kids and the neices and nephews had all played with those pennies and added to them everytime they found one. I had been saving them more than ten years. The boys doing the gutter and I had just played poker with some of them less than a month ago. We all wondered how many pennies in a gallon. Now I would never know. I was saving them for the grands, for field trips and books and batteries and shoes and the fairs we would be going to. They were memories and fun for all of us and they were gone.

Come to find out the next day he found his way back to the repair shop and the roll in the little red truck was gone, too. I should have guessed that when I saw both coffee to-gos were home, I had forgotten mine on the way to the airport and it was in the red truck.

I pulled the rugs out of the dryer when it went off and put them down in the nice, clean bathroom.

I took a phone to my room and called Jones. It was a long, tear filled, angry and hurt conversation. Mostly a monolog. He got in, "I didn't want to spoil your vacation.", like coming up with some extra money would be a problem when I have tried to help even without being asked. He also worked in, "I handled it wrong." when I wanted to know why he didn't just ask me if he was short of money and "I was going to tell you but I was embarrassed to in front of your son." when I wanted to know how he thought I wouldn't notice.

I was full flame on and teared out before I was done. I felt so betrayed. I had told him it broke because he stole from me. He got in, "I was going to pay you back." and I laughed in his face. I told him he had cut himself off from the future help I may have been able to have given him by not just asking me for help now. I don't know if he can do the math but it was a bad call.

When I had finished and had time to think I knew I should have remembered that when I loaned him little red I had told him it was his until I needed it and the only way I would take it back was if the white truck broke down. The white truck was broken. I had done what I was supposed to do and now it was between him and whoever was running this circus. It was time to take red back. I told him I would be by for the keys Sunday.

It was three a.m. by now and I thought maybe I could sleep. I let everyone out and in again then crawled into my bed. It was sad prayers I was saying that night.

And the story gets even more complicated. Sunday I called Best Girl and she agreed to follow me up to the #1son's place and bring me back. I poured my coffee, got dressed, rant to the store for milk and breakfast rolls, came back, put some nice, sweet milk in my coffee and sat down to wait for her. I also took photos of the bag of boxes I brought back.

My cat had done a bad thing in the tub because I slept a little late. He is eleven and I am careful of him. I went to clean it up and there was NO moisture to it at all. It was like picking up rock. I called the cat and his fur was not too bad but when I got a pinch of skin he was dry. The poor old guy was dehydrated. No wonder he took cuts in front of the dogs. When I went to town I got him some sardines in oil and tuna to get him going again and I made sure he had water all day.

The synopsis here is we went to the Big City, took #1son, wonderwife, grandgirl and ourselves to lunch, had a nice time and then Best Girl and I went to get my keys. I had brought small gifts back for the step dad and the mom that I have gotten to know over the last weeks. He had been watching for me and when I rang the bell he was blocking me from going in. I told him I needed to see the step dad, he warned me nieces were there, as in, no scenes please. I had already decided it's just stuff and stuff just burns up so I was over my anger at him, though I still hurt from being turned on by a person I thought was a friend. I left the gifts and called for him as I went toward the door. I just held out my hand. He gave up the keys. I couldn't bear to look at him. I left and we went to get little red, I shopped, Best Girl went back to the house and spent the day with me.

At midnight the phone rang as I sat loading photos into the computer. It was Jones' Mom. I had heard they just closed on the house during the time I was gone. She had called to tell me the box was the most lovely one she had ever seen and to thank me for the hundred and fifty dollars I gave them through Jones. They would never have made it through without it.

Now I feel lower than a snakes belly. But he still should have asked. I think. Damn it. Why is this so complicated. I was just trying to be nice to these people and now I am all hurt and then I am ashamed. Why does it make a difference where the money went? Why does it matter, if I would have given him money anyway that it was my penny stash? The drinking is a bad thing. But if he was drinking mine he didn't waste money on it. Or did he?

Now you know why I don't watch soap operas. I live them!