Murphy, of Murphy’s Law, is alive and well. Proofs:
This morning on my way to our Sidewalk Sunday School SPLASH event I waited my turn at a 4-way stop beside another denomination’s church. There was some kind of special do going on in their private park — I know not what, but this I do know — two old fellas were using litterbox shovels to sift the sand in the horseshoe pits before continuing their game.
At the grocery store the end of the conveyor belt ate the strings of the clerk’s apron — while she was in the apron. Her boss didn’t want to cut the apron strings, so she stood on her tippy-toes gasping for breath as he worked them free. When it was finally my turn at the register she was out of receipt paper. She installed another roll and it jammed. My receipt was folded, spindled and mutilated. In the process of trying to work it free the lady stopped, looked up toward the cealing and said, “Not today, Lord, please. I have to pull a double shift!”
About 28 children, 7 parents and 6 volunteers showed up for the SSS SPLASH event. We were armed with squirt guns, huge sponges, hoses, water balloons and large tubs — a couple of the kids told us their mothers said they couldn’t get wet. Hello? Who sends their kid to a water party with instructions to not get wet?
Ms. Betty said she didn’t want to get wet, either. Naturally she was the first one soaked — her twin sons did it (they’re 22 so grounding them is probably not an option).
A small child two or three years of age picked up a water ballon and was laughing at how it wiggled and jiggled in his hands. Then it popped with a spectacular splash and soaked him. The look on his little face was priceless. His momma and I burst out laughing, frightening him to tears.
Then it came time to eat watermelon. One toddler dropped her piece on the blacktop, picked it up, pressed it into her younger brother’s hands and chomped down on his clean slice. Baby was content with the dirty piece, but his mommy and I weren’t.
There is a tradition that ends Sidewalk — the big water tubs are hefted and tossed in some hapless soul’s direction. This year I was determined to get the deed on film. I had the camera ready, the twins (Ms. Betty’s darlings) hefted the tub — and through the view finder I realized they were coming for me! I had time only to thrust my left hand and the camera high into the air as I screamed, “The camera isn’t wategergablapbt!” Which translates to, “The camera isn’t waterproof.” (Luckily it was a disposable camera — not even Murphy could sweet-talk me into taking my new digital to a water fight!)
I would tell you whether or not the pics survived, but when I went to the photo processing place to drop them off, as I got out of the car I realized I had left them at home! Murphy’s last act of the day (so far anyway) was the only one I have found no ounce of appreciation for. I was so careful at Sidewalk not to run or jump. I took every squirt, splash and splatter in deference to my healing knee — but there in the parkinglot as I turned to get back into my car I re-twisted the joint. I sit here now with it propped up and swathed in a dishtowel wrapped around a frozen bag of corn.
Other than that, I had a great day. How about you?