Gun Fight at the Not OK Corral

The family decided to take a walk to Blockbuster on a surprisingly mild evening. Himself usually sets off at a brisk pace, but lately he's realized that his step is much wider than ours and we are usually hustling to keep up. Because he's such an all or nothing kind of guy, he began to over-compensate by walking at a snail's pace.

Man, I love that guy.

We were finally figuring things out when suddenly, there was a woman traveling in her car on the busy street in front of our neighborhood. She was honking her horn, looking at us with panic on her face, and screaming out, "Don't do it! Don't go!"

Did she know something about Blockbuster that we didn't?

"I'm sorry! Don't go!"

We started to look at each other in confusion. What did she ever do to us?

The answer was soon obvious when we heard a loud, "Excuse me, please" behind us. Stepping to one side, we made room for an angry and determined man on a bicycle. It looked as if he was leaving for good with his possessions in a large, black trash bag. Clutched in the same hand as the bag was a construction helmet. He had another bag in his other hand, the one steering the bike, and he was fighting for balance.

"Don't go! I'm sorry! Don't go!"

Ahhhh . . . now it's making sense.

He pedaled on down the road and she was able to follow through the green light. We all looked at each other with confusion and then continued our journey. Just under the overpass, Kelly spotted them.

"Oh no, Mom! They're right there." Sure enough, she had managed to swing her car around, park on the street, and run over to grab the handlebars of his bicycle. As much as we wanted to give them privacy, they were directly in the path and we had no choice but to go around.

Awkward.

Have you ever tried to NOT listen to a conversation? It's not so easy to do.

"Don't go! I said I was sorry. What am I supposed to do without you? . . . "

I was praying and praying that a cussing storm wouldn't break out before I could get my girls away from there. We all kind of chuckled when we got away (I think she neglected to bring her teeth to the negotiations) and pondered the incident all the way into Blockbuster. After making our selections, we headed home.

"Mom, they're still there!"

The argument was continuing and we would have to walk past them again. She was still standing over the front tire with both hands firmly grasping the handlebars. This time, it was his turn.

"What do I have to do in order for you to take me seriously? Huh? I'm sick of this cr**. I'm just sick of it. Maybe NOW you'll take me seriously . . . "

Awkward.

It gave us more fuel for conversation on the walk home and oddly enough, some teaching moments for our girls. How could this have been avoided? How far was he going to get on that bicycle, anyway? Did she lose all dignity by chasing him in the car and screaming for him to stay? What do you think led up to that moment? Good thing he took his hardhat so he'd be ready for work!

The next day, Kelly and I stopped at McD's for some soft serve (don't judge us). Kelly grabbed my arm and whispered, "Mom, it's them! Our neighbors!"

It looked like all was well in paradise as the happily reunited couple stopped for lunch.

She was buying, of course.