In high school, a trip to Murfressboro left me with a dent in the side of my head from where she took the interstate exit a little too fast and I went sliding across the back seat and smacking into the frame of the car. Seatbelt? I don't need no stinkin' seat belt.
And where we were followed by some creep at Disneyworld all day (and stuck on the Small World ride for 20 minutes.. listening to that song.. I'm convinced that ride could be used for torture and should be classified as cruel and unusual punishment. One has to be a masochist to really enjoy that ride...)
Well, yesterday, we were driving to Sparta. And we got lost. Not for too long but the directions said nothing about the road veering to the left. We drove by this one house with a huge sign out by the street that said:
It's your fault if you get shot.
If I didn't know better, I would have thought we were at Nate's house.
When we finally found the road that the church was one, we saw this cow. We couldn't stop to investigate because there wasn't enough of a shoulder to safely pull over but it either had a milk jug tied to it's rear end or as Lynn said "it's having a baby! Pull over! I bet we can help."
"What?"
"I want to help."
"You've never helped anything give birth. What makes you think you can help a cow?"
"I don't know....."
We did not stop to find out what was happening with the cow.
The wedding was extremely laid back. Everyone looked great and we made it back to the city without further incident.
