I discovered this morning that Sedona, AZ doesn’t have a lock on the vortex.
At least one of the spiraling energy centers of weirdness is located in Little Rock, AR and i know this because we found it all by ourselves.
Certainly, it’s not as publicized as the Bermuda Triangle or as eerie the rocks of Stonehenge. Nonetheless, a vortex of strangeness is the only explanation for our morning experience.
All we wanted to do is take the soccer players to a 7-v-7 tournament this weekend. Crossing state borders with little ones in tow is always fun so the whole family signed up to go with Lizard and the team.
For various reasons getting out of town was difficult and having all the women present to participate was uncannily hard, but ultimately we arrived at the Days Inn last night, woke up this morning to one of the skimpiest continental breakfasts known to man, and loaded into the maxi-van (aka the 22-passenger people mover) and headed to the tournament fields.
My first recognition something was amiss was the broken down sign outside of a windowless metal building declaring, “Antiques! Quality antiques!”
It wasn’t that the sign said quality antiques, it was that the business owners were obviously trying to convince passerby that their goods were quality. By using a sign that was faded with peeling paint. On a building that had seen better days.
But it was Quality! The sign said so!!
I mentioned how odd this was to Lizard, who was at that very moment turning the maxi-bus down a residential street, following the directions issued by the New Zealand woman who lives in our GPS and guides us competently through foreign neighborhoods and never loses her temper no matter how many times she has to “recalculate.”
The sketchy antique store full of quality goods turned out to be the best part of the neighborhood.
We eased the maxi-bus through the residential streets that became more and more narrow while the homes displayed more and more disrepair.
Our New Zealand guide did not seem to be concerned and continued directing us down the streets.
“Um, Sherlock, I do not think this GPS is providing us with a quality vision right now,” I muttered to Lizard from my shotgun seat.
He agreed with me but noted we only had .4 miles to go before our next turn.
Which, when we arrived, was a gated cow path.
Utilizing a wider part of the road that appeared to be the final resting place for approximately 200 disabled tires, a destructed baby bouncer and 75 cases of Bud Light, Lizard executed a flawless 100-point u-turn in the maxi-van.
Flawless, I tell you. Flawless.
We turned around and headed back to the interstate with Miss New Zealand “recalculating” and recommending u-turns in a hurt tone of voice the whole way.
At that point, my major excitement was to get my camera out so that I could take a photo of the “quality” antique store as we drove back by so I could share it with you. It took a little flexibility because I had my feet up on the dashboard and the camera was in the crevice between the windshield and the defrost but I was determined to get a photo for the blog and so the sacrifice of my hamstring was completely worth it.
However, the lunge to acquire the camera caused me to knock an entire bag of baked Lays up the right leg of my shorts, resulting in salty thighs and bits of potato chip in my underwear that has tormented me for the rest of the day.
Sacrifice, my friends. I’m all about it. It’s all for you.
Back to the vortex… I handed the camera to Lizard so he could take the photo while we drove by and tried to restuff the chip bag.
He slowed the maxi-van to a crawl and aimed the camera…
…told me he didn’t see the word “quality” in red…
… And drove on without snapping the photo.
Talk about a let down. We’re now in the market for a “quality” marriage therapist if you’d like to make a recommendation.
We did finally locate the soccer fields and have had a good day, otherwise. (Except for the chip bits. They’re just annoying.)
So I’m without a photo to show you but with a solid explanation for the intense, crazed 10 minutes of our morning adventure.
Has to be.
What explanation do you give for crazy events?
***don’t forget to rate this post at the top… Your rating magically works to create a list on the right of the best posts on the blog for newcomers to explore. Do your part!***