'Is your dad OK?'

It started out as a usual Wednesday night.  I dropped the girls at Irish dancing class at 7.  I ran to Walmart.  Then I went to the mall where they were holding a pair of winter boots for Coach.  These boots are identical to the pair I just bought for Eddie.  To make life interesting, they are even the same size.  I assume they will cross that bridge next winter.

The store had to get them sent from another store, because they were out of size 13.  While we waited, the snow melted AND the boots were marked down even lower.  They were initially on sale for $75 from $150.  Now they were marked down to $37.  They price adjusted Eddies pair, because it had been less than 2 weeks.  Bonus.

A woman who I don't talk to very often called my cell phone.  Not really interested in getting caught up with her while I was at the mall (or even if I was at home for that matter -more about that later), I almost didn't answer it, but alas . . . she asked me if my dad was OK.  'Yes.  Why?'

She was driving down a street near my parents' house (and mine) and she thought she saw my Dad's car at the side of the road.  'Um, it wasn't just pulled over.  It was like in the mud.  Ripped up grass kind of thing.'  Dad doesn't go out all that often, and I assumed it was just another burgundy Rendez Vous, but Dad has personalized plates and I was pretty sure she knew that.  I called Mom and asked if Dad was home.  He was not home.  He was at bible study at church.  Crap.

I left out the part about destroyed grass to avoid raising Mom's blood pressure too much, but I told her that I had gotten word that Dad's car was pulled over at the side of the road.  Coach couldn't go check on Dad because he was teaching a class on-line.  I was killing time near dancing class, so I couldn't get there quickly.  Mom said she was going to go check it out.

Not sure if you remember this quirky tidbit about my folks:  they don't own a cell phone.  Dad is willing.  Mom is stubborn.

I didn't hear back from Mom for 26 minutes.  The drive to church from my folks' house is less than 5 minutes.  If his car was somewhere between her house and church, it would take even less than 5 minutes.  Round trip.  It stood to reason.

Meanwhile, Coach called me to say his class was wrapping up.  Did I want him to get the girls at dancing.  'I stuck around up here, so no.  But can you check on my folks?'  I told him the story and he raced off to see what was what.  We live between my folks' home and church.

Coach called me a few minutes later.  He found Dad's car.  Neither of my folks were there.  He pointed out the good news:  Dad had to be well enough to get into Mom's car, because she wouldn't have been able to lift him.  Next stop:  their house.  He called me from their house.  They weren't home.

Still not sure why it took 26 minutes to get an update
on why Dad's car was stuck in the mud.

Now I assume that Mom is driving Dad to the hospital.  This seemed the only logical explanation.  I called my sister, Ann.  She was home, which is to say she is about 10 minutes from all of the supposed excitement.  She said she would call the hospital, and then just drive over there.

I was heading to the exit at the mall and my phone rang.  Caller ID read:  Mom and Dad.  This means they were home.  Because NO ONE has a key to their house.  That is one of Mom's rules.  What the heck was going on?