Friday, March 6, 2009

Lock and Key

The sinking in my stomach squelched my exercise induced euphoria. McKenzie and I were standing at the door of our "villa" ready for a cool drink and a snack. Holding the screen door open for McKenzie and Baby Doll, I reached to unlock the door. With a flash, the full revelation dawned glaringly upon me. I had the keys. They just weren't the right ones. 

Unbelievable. I am only six days into the season...scratch that...six days into spring training and I managed to lock myself out of the house. Apparently I'm moving up in the world of goof-ball stunts. The last two seasons I locked the baby and the keys in the car. This time, I had the baby and the keys, they just didn't have the courtesy to be the right ones and instead of excluding myself from the car, I decided to try the house. Granted, I didn't have to endure the embarrassment of calling AAA from the player parking lots of two different ball fields, breaking the door handle off a rental car in mindless hysteria or setting the car alarm off right behind the bullpen where my sweetly oblivious husband sat during the game while the locksmith pried open the car door. 

This time, we were merely relegated to walk around the neighborhood for an hour, after having already completed our CrossFit routine of pushing the jogging stoller 1/4 mile and doing 15 push-ups...8 times. This unplanned extensive fitness regime was followed by a relaxing 45 minutes on the porch waiting for Josh to get home from work. From the point of revelation 'til we reentered our abode, it was a grand two hours. The whole time I was kicking myself for not even bringing my wallet. What self-respecting jogging Mama does not bring her wallet on her morning run? Not only was I exiled from the house, I was completely unable to indulge in the somewhat soothing pastime of grocery shopping, the only genre which I can justify as absolutely necessary. I was completely stripped of all avenues of diversion. 

There is a certain pleasure though in sitting in the shade watching trees blow, unable to do a thing in the world except think and pray and savor each bite of the artfully served dessert the Lord so kindly gave me. A sweet, juicy dish of humble pie is always good for the soul, but I truly hope that the good Lord was duly amused by my performance and does not have any more such surprise servings on the menu in the near future; at least not of the lock and key variety. 

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