So last week when I went to the reservoir to swim in the frigid water, I had a little trouble finding the access road that leads up through the foothills. It really isn't that complicated, and I've been there plenty of times, so you'd think I could find the road, right? I had it in my head somehow that the turnoff was before a certain tree-lined bridge, so when we reached the bridge and I hadn't seen the road, I was perplexed.
Me: "Wha? Huh... I thought we would have gotten to the turn by now."
Nathan: "Maybe you missed it."
Me: "Ya think?"
I pulled over to the shoulder, let a couple of cars pass, and did a U-turn back the way we'd come.
Me: "I still didn't see it. And I know that it isn't this far north. Look, we're to the golf course already!"
I pulled another U-turn to head south again.
Megan (pointing left): "Turn there, mommy!"
Me: "No, that's not it. It looks similar and it goes the right direction, but there's no sign. At the real turn, there is a big sign." I think.
We reached the bridge. Again. Another U-Turn.
Again we approached the same road Megan had suggested
Nathan: "Are you sure this isn't the road?"
Me: "I could have sworn it wasn't, but I guess we'll try it. I was just up here last night -- you'd think I'd remember how to get there!"
Moments later, as we putted up the road into a subdivision of condos, I was sure it was the wrong road. I pulled another U-turn and headed back down the hill.
Me: "I can't believe this! Why the HELL can't I find the stupid road today!!"
I thought "heck." I really did. "Heck" was what I planned to say. So I was just as surprised as the kids when that other forbidden word broke forth from my frothed lips. Great, I thought. I've just given tacit permission for my kids to use the H-word. They're squeamish just reading it out of the scriptures, the vocabulary in our house is so pure. Normally. Ahem.
Me: "Sorry guys."
Don't tell my bishop.