Val's Life is Fraught with Danger

Come listen to a story 'bout a woman named Val
How a near-calamity befell our gal
Yesterday, she was dishin' out a treat
Which turned out to be a regretful feat

Hindsight, thy name is Val the Missing Person on an episode of 20/20. Oh, if only we could dial back the clock a few minutes as the mood strikes. How many careless acts of stupidity could be avoided? You there. It was a rhetorical question. Stop counting on your nine fingers.

Saturday is bowling league for the boys. Genius usually drives himself, unless he has frittered his gas money driving willy-nilly about the county to bad movie nights and sleepovers. I normally drop off The Pony, because Hick works most Saturdays until noon. He meets us there and brings The Pony home. Don't even bother to ask why Genius can't bring him.

Yesterday, Hick did not work, because he went to a meeting in Rolla for work on Friday, which supposedly does not count as real work, but like a day off. And everybody knows you don't go in to work on Saturday if you had a day off on Friday. The Pony had spent Friday night at his grandma's house, so she was taking him bowling. I needed to meet them to take The Pony's bowling locker key, which he'd forgotten to pack, and pick up a ham bone Mom had saved for me, so it didn't spoil in Hick's car during the bowling interlude. This is why Val compares managing her social calendar to mounting the invasion of Normandy.

When I left home, Genius was still as his desk, plotting to take over the world. Sometimes I make it back before he even leaves. It's only a ten-minute trip to the bowling alley and to town. Genius does not suffer down time gladly. He does not arrive when the doors open at noon, but around 12:30 when the league starts. Hick was nowhere to be found, so I assumed that he would be leaving from the BARn, or the he was already running around town fleamarketing. I left the kitchen door unlocked, because I figured Genius would be there, and it's easier to get in without fishing for a key while juggling a 44 oz. Diet Coke and a ham bone.

While completing my key/ham mission, Hick pulled into the bowling alley parking lot with Genius riding shotgun. I gave it no thought, and proceeded to pick up my bountiful beverage. Once home, I found that Hick had locked the kitchen door. I ferreted out my key and let myself in. I'm a kitchen door kind of gal, while Genius prefers the front entrance. Hick makes use of both portals. I had several items on my agenda, so I got right to work.

First was moving laundry from the washer to the dryer. Then I rinsed the beans which had been soaking and readied their pan for the ham bone. I cut off some of the rind and set it aside as a treat for the dogs. I put away a few groceries I had picked up at Save A Lot, and ran a sink of dishwater. I ground a little black pepper into the bean pot, added a dash of minced garlic, and poured in some sweet banana pepper juice. I put the lid on, and turned it up to medium high to get it started. Slipping the dishes into the sink, I decided it was a good time to toss the ham rind out to the dogs. You can't just throw it out the kitchen door like a common hillbilly might throw it to the hounds. All three dogs lounge there on the back deck. One dog will snatch all the treats in her stacking half-lab manner, and two doggies will go the way of Old Mother Hubbard's mutt.

I went out onto the deck and tossed alternating tidbits to each canine. Of course I saved the prime pieces for my sweet Juno. I threw them way over by the breezeway so she wouldn't have to snarl a warning the whole time she ate. Ann and Tank-the-Beagle minded their manners. Another successful feeding accomplished, I turned to re-enter my kitchen domain.

THE DOOR WAS LOCKED!

The pit of my stomach dropped ten feet below the deck to the ground. I was alone. The spare key has not been moved since the boys were tots. It's in a location not accessible to Val or Hick, but in a place only wiry snake and snail and puppydog tail boys can get it. I made a round of the wraparound porch. Front door, bedroom French doors, laundry room door...all locked up and unforgiving. I might as well have been trying to get into Fort Knox. The dogs looked at me expectantly. "What? No more food? Why are you still here?"

I remembered that earlier they had been barking at a revving engine. I thought it was 4-wheel riders at the time. Then I heard it again. Our neighbor next door. Next door means a tenth-mile walk up my driveway, a tenth-mile walk down the gravel road, a tenth-mile walk down their driveway, and back. Val has not been training for the Olympic 800 meters. Thank goodness I was wearing town clothes, and not my stay-at-home sweatpants, ratty shirt, black socks, and red Crocs. AND I still had my New Balance shoes on, that I normally take off upon entering the house. Thank goodness the temperature was 48 degrees with no wind, not the wind-chill twenties of earlier in the week. The bean pot on medium high crossed my mind. I wasted no time in descending the porch and heading for the driveway.

Then I saw them, across the field that separates us, their field that Hick set on fire one July 4th. My neighbor and a young man laying across the motor of a pickup truck. They had stopped mid-rev. "HEY! Do you have a phone I can borrow?"

"Sure." Never mind that we haven't really spoken to each other for about ten years. Only waved along the road. I started under the lone barbed wire left in the fence that makes good neighbors. "Don't worry, she'll bring it on the 4-wheeler." He hollered to his wife. I went back to lean on Genius's little red Ford Ranger. She arrived with her 20-something daughter riding on the handlebars. I called Hick. No answer. I called Genius. No answer. I called The Pony. No answer. Daughter suggested having Hick paged. She knew the bowling alley number by heart. Five minutes later Hick came to the phone. He agreed to run home and unlock the door for me. I think it was the imminent threat of a house fire due to beans burning on the grill that made him do a whole lot of tryin'. The neighbors and I shot the breeze and kept our dogs separated for a while. Then they left when I assured them I was fine and Hick was on the way.

Seriously. I think Hick sat down to a five-course feast and bowled a few frames himself before he hit the road. He let me in and went back to the alley where he belonged. The beans were just starting to boil. Darn Hick and his fancy lock that does not stay unlocked when the key turns it.

You didn't think I was going to take the blame myself, did you?