So, today, my husband said, “Tonight I am going to kidnap you and the kids and take you somewhere for our anniversary. Be ready to leave the house at 5pm sharp!”
Those were his instructions. As well as: wear shoes, be comfortable, pack snacks, and go to the bathroom before we leave.
I was certain we were going to go mushroom hunting as a family—with someone Polish as our guide.
My husband even packed a couple knives to lead me down that scented direction.
Mushroom hunting? You may ask.
Yes. In Poland, they go mushroom hunting. But—and this is a big BUT…You have to be extremely careful and know what you are doing. You definitely DON’T want to eat the wrong mushroom. That could be some seriously bad news. Like not having a 15th wedding anniversary bad news.
And I kind-of like celebrating anniversaries. Especially hard-fought ones.
And I really like mushrooms.
And I am a very simple person to please. Seriously. Take me on a walk with my babies and my dogs down a dirt road and I am as happy as kid at a candy store.
He’s a lucky man (smile and wink).
So, at 5pm we were all ready to go. But since I am never on time, we actually left at 5:15.
No one had a clue. This especially bothered my daughter as she feels at 8 years of age that she has the right to knowledge on all things. I wonder who she takes after? Certainly not me.
Our car ride was filled with constant guessing where we were going and what Richie had planned.
Let’s just say, I had NO CLUE what he really had planned. As the car slowed and turned left into what was a raceway, I got so excited! Rich had planned for us to race each other. AWESOME! I did wonder who would watch our 3 kids while we would be circling the track all speedy and professional-like. But I figured, heck! The kids can watch themselves. Richie is going DOWN!
My competitive blood was pumping and then…then we watched as the tracks were to our right and my husband turned to the left. Toward a field. With nothing.
No, wait. There! In the distance was a small speck of some people. And a small vehicle. And a parachute lying on the ground.
That’s when it hit me! We wouldn’t be driving race cars on the ground, my husband was going to set me a-sail with a car and watch me fly off into the sunset on the eve of our anniversary—with another man!
Yes. I started to freak out. Now, it’s not that I haven’t always wanted to go up in one of these things. In fact, we tried in Arizona. I was, however, pregnant when I was suppose to fly in Arizona, so that was a no-go. The problem is that I need quite a bit of mental prep time before I hop in some stranger’s flying contraption and soar about 1200-1500 feet in the air with him. This nameless, qualified?, Group-On man…
But fly I did. In a little contraption called something along the lines of a flying car. I even had to flip the switch to start the engine. I failed my first attempt as the motor sputtered and died. I heard a sigh behind me. I guess I am not the best co-pilot. So he told me to do it again and hold the button down until the engine sputters to life.
And my pilot. My pilot was a toothless wonder with mad skills.
The view. Ah, yes. The view. I got to see the reflection of the setting sun in the lakes we flew over while observing that the forests appeared to be mere shrubbery. I saw farm fields, tiny toy tractors, and many roofs of village-dwelling houses.
As we were taking off, however, the morbid thought of “I may die!” was screaming through my mind, so I made sure to wave happily at my kids and husband and with very exaggerated hand motions “I (point to eye) LOVE (cross hands to heart) YOU (point to my crew)!” They got it. Smiled big and pointed excitedly as momma took off across the field in the Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang flying car.
Weeee! Happy anniversary to me.
Score, Richard. No wonder I married this man.
Now I wonder, will next year he send me to the moon?