Grandma Greta outdid herself with this cake (my camera was really busy in my purse, so I missed a photo of it). And mom thought we were ridiculous for making such a crazy fuss over the ice cream cake, but it was amazing. Atop the round yellow number, around the perimeter of the cake were six mini ice cream cones filled with six mini ice cream scoops--pure genius! After Papa Glen blew out the candles, I handed each jumping kiddo a cone, and was left in peace to cut gigantic slices of cake for us all.
After festivities, I took all four boys to the fireman hat park near Cherry Hill (a new favorite we re-discovered the day I missed the freeway entrance and had to take 15th Street to Hanley). Then we popped in to Daniel and Roman's house and then hit the road headed back to Moscow by 3:30 sharp. I budgeted jusust enough time to make it back to Moscow as the darkness was becoming inky.
Alas, by the time we were between that elk farm and the casino 95 was sleeting and icy, and I was slipping. Other suvs were slipping . . . off the road even. I let Phil know we would later than 5pm. By the time I made my white-knuckled way past Plummer and was closing in on Tensed I was freaking out. Driving about 25 at most I had become part of a chain of terrified, surprised drivers (seeing cars slipping off the road doesn't do much to inspire confidence in your own skills). Barely outside of Tensed I called Phil, "Please meet me in Potlatch I cannot do this". But somehow hearing his voice, and knowing that he was on his way to rescue us gave me that safe feeling of relief and that safe feeling of I don't have bare this burden alone so I think I'll start that slippery decent into being a useless puddle of a wife. The poor guy ended up having to wait on us (even though we were maybe five miles from our rendezvous point). First, one of my buddies had to do something out of car-ish. Next, a snow plow appeared behind me and I couldn't figure out how to pull aside for him to pass, so I could take advantage of driving on plowed road (I called Phil and he condemned my plan to, "just pull into the oncoming traffic lane so the plow can pass"). Finally, we met Phil at Ireland's Inn, at which point I oh so helpfully I burst into tears. Ridiculous!
I'm recording this little incident to keep me from mocking all those new-to-the-Palouse college drivers who will drive me insane come February by inching along the highway . . .
I get ya! There is a fine line between white-knuckle roads and move-along-already-Californian roads! No offense intended :)
ReplyDeletePaula