Where to begin, where to begin?

The last two weeks have been fabulous and fun-filled. We got to see all of our 22 kids and grand kids, except for Sean, who had to stay home and work, and we had tons of fun; Wii tournaments, a trip to the beach, swim parties at Carl's house, lots of games and much more. My readers (for the most part) were all participants, so I won't go into details. You can see photos of all the fun on Emily's blog.

This past weekend we caravanned to St. George with Sarah and her boys to spend Father's Day with my Mom and Dad and to have a little reunion with Bill's sister and two brothers who were in town. My mom broke her hip a week ago but is recovering well at home with my Dad's devoted assistance. They are like the energizer bunnies--they just keep on keeping on. Again, many of my readers were participants in the weekend, so I won't go into detail.

Why, you may ask, am I bothering to blog when I don't have a lot of fresh details to share? Well, pull up a chair and get comfy and I will share with you...

The Sad Story of Sisco and Bunny

We were driving home today from St. George, when we saw a strange sight. Twenty miles east of Mojave, in the middle of the desert, temperature of 104 degrees, we come over a little rise and see a car on the side of the interstate with two young African-Americans, attempting to wave people down. The car in front of us ignored them. Bill, needing something more than Diet Coke to perk him up, pulled to the side of the road to see what help they might need.

They ran over to our car and Sisco (as we discovered he was called) explained that he and Bunny had been in Las Vegas to get married and he had lost "all his money and shi* and his pre-paid cell phone." He said that he had wisely left $25 in his room to use for gas, but his math was a little off since they had run out of gas 40 miles short of home. He still had his old cell phone, but it got turned off because he didn't pay the bill and he just uses it for a phone book. He and Bill discussed various options (which were actually quite limited since it was blazing hot and we were ten miles from the nearest gas station.) Bill asked them if they would like to call someone in Lancaster, 40 miles away, where they were from, to see if they would come pick them up.

For 30 minutes Sisco stood outside our car and called people, begging them to come get him. Bunny started to feel sick and went back to the car to wait with their best man and maid of honor. I gave her a bottle of Coke Zero to help ward off dehydration during what I feared might be a long wait. Listening to all of Sisco's calls was a very interesting peek into another world. Among the many things we learned:

• Sisco knows a lot of people who are at home during the day. Unfortunately, most of them seem to be the unreliable type.
• Every single call included the words, "Where's your car ?" or "Who's got your car?" or "Can you boost a car to come get me?"
• Apparently, it is perfectly acceptable for African-Americans to call each other nig**r, as a term of endearment.
• Sisco's Auntie received three calls, each more frantic than the last. She suggested that he call Darnell, but Sisco said, "Darnell don't need to know my business." We speculated that perhaps the car was rented on Darnell's credit card since none of the four members of the wedding party were old enough to rent a car and I seriously doubt if any of them had a credit card.

It was a frustrating experience for Sisco. No one would really commit to coming to pick them up. His new wife was hot and cranky and he was embarrassed in front of his friends. And then he started sobbing and got tears and snot all over Bill's blackberry. Finally, his Auntie agreed to come get him but she said she would have to borrow some money first to put gas in her car. We wished Sisco and Bunny all the best and, as we pulled back onto the interstate, watched as they stood in the middle of the highway, clutching each other and crying.

Imagine Adrian Monk, if he had a cell phone, and what he would do in this situation. Before we had even lost sight of the newlyweds in our rear view mirror, Bill was ripping the cover off his phone and barking orders at me; "Get some of those alcohol wipes out of the glove box! That'll have to do until we can get home and get the Lysol!" The panic was not caused by racism, I assure you. If Doris Day had gotten tears and snot on his cell phone he would have reacted the same exact way.

Three hours later we were eating dinner with Clare, Liza, Jeremy and the kids when Bill's cell phone rings. Someone wanted to know if Sisco had found a ride yet. Bill explained that our association had been short-lived, that his Auntie had said she would pick him up, but that he didn't know whether she actually had or not. We will never know, I guess.