busted.

to make it to Phoenix in time for sunday school requires waking up at a most unearthly hour.

I think it was like 6:30 when the alarm initially went off, but it wasn't until 7:00 that I finally peeled myself out of bed only after having the covers ripped off me by an ornery drill sergeant.  GIT UP ALREADY, would you?  and give me 50.

and let me tell you, there's nothing worse than being forced into consciousness while you lay there shivering to death.  well maybe there is, but I can't think of it right now.  one look at old evil eye and I knew he meant business.  I chattered out a "y-y-yes, SIR, o-okay, SIR," before skittering off to the shower.    

so then we were barely 5 miles out of town when Gary flies by a highway patrol (hiding in the ditch) doing at least 10 over the speed limit.  surely he won't notice us in the inconspicuous white 12-passenger, I joke.  unfortunately, those highway patrol dudes never miss a thing and he promptly peals out in pursuit of our great white shark.  he tails us for a good mile before flipping on the cherries. 

about the same time Gary starts to pull off the freeway, a chorus of "DAD! DAD! DAD! there's a cop behind us with his lights on.  were you speeding, DAD?" erupts from the back forty.  I snicker and think sweet, for once it's not me-- mizz lead foot herself who cannot stand senior citizens people that hang out in the left lane going several miles an hour below the speed limit.  with their left blinker on.  can you say annoying?  

as we wait for the highway patrol's mug to appear at the window, the kids begin questioning: "are you going to get a ticket?" and "Dad, will you have to go to-- to jail?"  "just be quiet and stay in your seats," I glare.  

wait a minute.  jail?  peace and quiet?  solitude?  now that sounds enticing.  maybe if I jump out and start screaming like a psycho woman-- or better yet, when mister patrol man gets to the van, I'll get all panicky and scream: help!  officer!  I've been kidnapped and forced into this motherhood gig!  heh. 

finally, mister patrol guy ambles up to the van.  he asks for the standard driver's license, insurance card and vehicle registration. while Gary fumbles around trying to locate the registration, the patrol dude looks over at me and asks, "so, where you headed?"

I decided to push my luck and pull the "we're running late to church" card.  "well, we're trying to get to Phoenix in time for church."  I realized how absurd that sounded the second I said it.  who in their right mind would drive two hours just to go to church?  and so did he, gaging by his response. "Phoenix?!  well that's sure a long way to go for church.  you mean to tell me you can't find a church you like here in Flagstaff?"

just then, Gary resurrected the registration form saving me from having to finagle my way through that one.  

then he asked Gary to step out of the vehicle and I could see them chatting in the side mirror while the officer was filling out some paperwork on a clipboard.  Gary looked pretty calm and even laughed a couple times.  I took that as a good sign.  but then again, Gary would be one to laugh as he was getting written out a ticket.

well, turns out the guy had five kids of his own and after asking Gary a few questions regarding our religious beliefs, he let us off with just a warning.  

can I get a resounding PHEW?

-jessica