We just got back from the Gaylord Opryland Hotel in Nashville. If that place doesn’t put you in a Christmas mood, then you are truly a Scrouge.
This was our first trip with Emmie Jo for such a long drive and she hates riding in a car seat as much as I hate a colonoscopy. The first couple of hours were mildly uncomfortable, but the last three were like a scene from “Black Hawk Down,” with me being in the form of Black Hawk.
After breaking my femur six months ago, I have had trouble walking long distances, so we rented me a four-wheeled scooter to get around on while I was there. I don’t ride a four-wheeler, so I was confused at first how to drive the new set of wheels. One lever pushed forward, the other one in reverse.
After running over the walls, statues, and I am sorry, people, I finally got the hang of it and was able to maneuver at a very slow speed. That made me somewhat more comfortable until one of my grandsons would sneak in and turn the power to faster. Then again, I had a runaway vehicle.
Emmie Jo decided she too wanted to ride, so we rode all over the place with me holding her on one knee, even into the grassy slopes of the yard from which I had to be pulled out.
I had to fight to use the scooter as one grandson wanted to ride all the time and he had to fight his dad for the motorized cart. I really believe one night my son-in-law rode it to Dollar General and brought back a bag full of bottled drinks. He asked for my walking cane to carry with him to aid his “persona.”
But I believe the worst experience we had was on our way back.
We had gotten within 50 miles of home and my “war buddy” and I were really struggling on the back seat, so we decided at our next pit stop I would drive, and her mama would sub for me. You must understand something, I have driven very little since my accident and have not driven at night for years because I have no night vision.
The situation in the back seat was so critical we decided to try it anyway. My grandson made the remark that he was afraid he might die with me driving and as we changed seats. As I pulled out onto the highway, I missed the “turn onto the pavement” and went into the grassy area in front. I felt like that Eli’s prediction just might come true, but his mama changed with me again, engaged her four-wheel drive and eased us out of the wet grass.
Emmie and I went back to our war games and she brought us home.
I love homemade cranberry sauce but it’s time consuming, so I have doctored up some ready-made.
Fancied-up Cranberry Sauce
2 cans jellied cranberry sauce
2 T. maple syrup
1 large orange, zested and juiced
fresh thyme for garnish