Belly of the Whale and Mud Slick Numero Tres

Jonah experienced sitting in the belly of the whale and found himself amongst the lucky ones given a second chance. So how do you get yourself out of the belly of the whale if the whale doesn't voluntarily spit you out? I ponder this thought. While driving home today I thought, why can't I just become an ice dancer? It's just like dancing on ice, and my dancing skills aren't that bad. I bet I could just flit around out there in my sequins and spandex, then they'd give me great scores so that maybe next time I would include a sarong with my get-up. Or in light of the other Olympic games, maybe I'll just take up speed skating and whiz around on skates longer than my entire femur. Then again, probably the best stress relief would be the agile snowboarders. They all seem so carefree and happy-go-lucky. They must wake up and think, I wonder if I could go sailing off the end of this half-pipe and catapult myself into two flips while twisting wildly in the air in hopes my board hits snow before my head crashes into this pipe. I know there's a lot of training involved to achieve such greatness, but they make it look so easy. We went to see the Rockettes before Christmas, and I thought for sure I could be on the silver stage with that bunch...Michelle and I got home and joined arms, fully prepared to reenact the leg kick show. We made it about two pumps and found a heightened respect for the ladies that don the title of Rockette. Some of the Olympic sports, however, I simply can't understand. The louge and the skeleton, for example. Any sport that requires me to go sailing down an ice cave at ninety miles an hour with nothing but spandex separating me and a one way ticket to meet my maker just won't do. The ringing of my phone snapped me back into reality.

Wade phoned to let me know I needed to be ready to go mud hauling when I got home. He had a most unbelievable day. I just thought having a kid thrash around in his desk during my observation this afternoon was bad. While cruising around the ranch filling feeders, he rounded a corner and POOF! A dirty, filthy, no way to see with the naked eye sand trap engulfed the suburban and feeder. I thought deja vu only happened twice? Right on que, it began to pour rain. You must understand that he was on the back of the ranch roughly three and a half miles from the barn, wearing rubber boots and a pullover jacket. I can not even begin to fathom the rage of fury that must have pulsated through his body. He hiked it back to the barn for the tractor. The tractor almost flipped over trying to haul this beast out of its trap. Strike. Next step, get the dozer. The dozer whipped it out of there. When I got home, we had to go fetch the suburban and feed wagon and ferry it and the other vehicle back home. I felt like I was spinning around in the twilight zone of repeat events. I have always loved thunder storms, and rain makes me feel cozy and warm inside. I revel at the sound of thunder and the tinking of rain on a tin roof. At that moment, however, I wanted to literally kneel by the suburban and blow on the ground in hopes my breath would magically transform into a super powered blow dryer.

So, how do we get out of the belly of the whale we find ourselves in? Well, today at least I had a partner in crime. While I thought my world was going to come apart at the seams, Wade experienced his own belly writhing experience. The point is, whatever we find ourselves going through, there's someone going through something equally as challenging. Tomorrow, we must try again. Maybe tomorrow's whale will be smaller, until finally it's the size of a perch, and we have successfully learned to navigate life's crazy quandaries.

I attached a picture of this beast of a suburban- the star of this year's rainy season.