Monday, March 03, 2014

Meals on Wheels (With a Wing and a Prayer)

Silly me!  What was I thinking?

Sure... I'll be there. Yes, I will bring a big crockpot of yummy food. I worked for hours getting the seasoning just perfect, the taste just right. I wanted this to be delicious.

I promised this yesterday and I like to be a mermaid of my word. Though some days I think the devil is out to challenge me...

So today when I was ready to deliver the food, I discovered it was too hot and too heavy to carry. OK, I could wrap it in a towel, then carry it without getting burned.  I found a clean bath towel, wrapped the pot, but ten feet later, my arms gave out. No way could I walk a half mile carrying a heavy hot pot of food and get there on time.

Oh I could drive the motorhome, but I was already running late and the motorhome wasn't organized for drive-away condition.

I was already a tad late, thanks to the bank. I tried to order a critical part and the card was denied. An hour on the phone with the bank and finally the problem was solved... we think. My permanent mailing address includes a box, but the bank doesn't accept the word "box" nor the use of "#". The company I was ordering from was using "#" in my address. When they switched it to "box" the bank computer didn't like that either. This took over two hours on the phone to figure out and much of the conversation was garbled.

My cell phone is having a melt down. I only have 4 hours per month on it and the bank just ate two of those hours. The company I was ordering from ate another hour of phone time, trying to fix the problem on their end.  It's only the 3rd of the month. That is 28 days left with 60 minutes of phone or 2 minutes per day. I'm a southerner. It's takes us 5 minutes just to get through all the pleasantries of "Good afternoon! How are you? Y'all getting snowed in up there?"

Of course I could use my unlimited computer phone, but that requires internet and guess what. The internet was flaking out big time. My internet phone calls were dropped repeatedly.

The internet is dissolving into a big gooey mess. Every time I tried to update the order or the bank records or make a computer phone call, the awful message "You have no internet access" would randomly appear. The cell phone was garbled.

I give up! To heck with internet, phone, bank cards and silly address semantics. I am going to deliver this hot pot of food. I said I would and if I don't I will have to get out a shovel, dig a hole and go hide in it .

I hate shoveling.

OK, so maybe I could decant the big pot to a smaller bowl but the only  bowls with lids I have are 2 cups each. Let's see, 3 quarts of food divided into 2-cup bowls equals six. I didn't have six empty bowls to use. Oh dear me.

A heavy hot pot and and a half mile.

Where there is a will, there is a way. By golly, I was going to get that food delivered if it was the last thing I did.

Meals on wheels!

I'm a terrible bike rider, but I keep trying to improve on this. I start off funny, confused about which leg to push first, I wobble back and forth making about as much sideways movement as forward. It's a miracle I ever get anywhere at all. To mock me the rear view mirror wiggles something awful now. Apparently I broke it loose while covering up or uncovering the bike from the rain. I bought a used bike cover to protect my transportation. Then I broke the mirror. Three steps forwards, fourteen backwards.

 Grrrrrr... Why did I get out of bed today? WHY?

Finally I was riding the bike but with a very hot pot behind my ample rear end. Luckily I have a little brass bell which I liberally dinged. "Hot food! Coming through! Ding ding!"

Yepper, the campers around here have certified me insane. If anything, I give them interesting forms of unique entertainment.

"There goes that nut on the red bicycle with the monkey dog. Oh wait. I don't see the dog. Hey, is that a crockpot she has strapped to the bicycle? Are you serious? Is that steam coming out of the pot?"

I prayed I wouldn't lose the crockpot which was stuck in a flimsy 99 cent rear basket I fashioned myself one day on a shoe string. The cheap basket is tied down with a bungee cord that weaves in and out of it attaching it to the rear bike rack. Inside I set the crockpot which I found a giant rubber band to hold the lid down. Thank goodness for small favors!

Next I added another bungee cord to hold the pot to the rear rack and the rear basket. I decided that puppy dog who rides in the front basket could stay home this time. I couldn't face the possible headlines. It sounds like a bad joke... a bicyclist, a dog and a hot crockpot...

Needless to say doggy was not amused, treating me to the saddest little heart breaking face he could muster up. He let out a loud cry when he saw me peddle away without him.

Off into the wild blue yonder I pumped and peddled until finally I arrived at my destination. A half mile away with the crockpot STILL attached. I am sure campground maintenance is so glad I didn't lose that pot. Can you imagine?

"Clean up on aisle 4 please. Some crackpot on a bicycle busted a crockpot..."

Well, I guess my efforts were not unnoticed. I pulled up in my red bicycle and delivered the hot crockpot. But everyone wanted to know where Harley dog was and how come he wasn't in his little front basket.

So back on the bicycle I peddled home, picked up doggy who greeted me at the door with copious kisses and offers of a free teeth cleaning which I tried to avoid as I snatched up his wiggly body and planted him in the front basket.

Huffing and puffing, a few minutes later, we made our second entrance. Tah dah! Everyone was happy to see Harley arrive. He danced, he leaped, he kissed, he wooed, he flirted, he played.

All he needs is a little clown suit and he could be the featured entertainment.

If it's any consolation prize... they ate EVERY bit of the food. Not one scrap was left. 

Life is goof. 


  1. You have become my beacon in the dark...after all..if a mermaid can survive on can a human NOT??
    Great story..and i can see myself in an rv with myndogs around me..THANK YOU Dear Miss give me hope

  2. If you have a private box I believe the legal address is "PMB" rather than Box or #.

  3. Oh My! Your bicycle looks just like those 2 girls who were selling tamales last Saturday... they had a huge pot secured in the front basket on their bike... Hey... you've trumped them.. yours is even electric!

  4. Love these comments! Thank you so much!


Life is goof!