Commence Murphy's Law

The drive was over and I had miscalculated by twenty 'in-city' miles. Stop lights, traffic . . . it all became part of the numerical read that gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Yet I persevered.

As we pulled into the driveway, with an hour and a half left until the start of commencement exercises, the chorus of familial voices in my car rang out in unison: "No one is home!"

Undaunted, I boldly approached the front door.

No one responded.

The vehicled natives were restless. Seat belts were being removed at an alarming rate. What to do?

With a sudden glimmer of idealistic hope, I made a bee-line for the wooden fence on the side of the house - where the gate stood wide open, beckoning me to enter.

Large, confident strides carried me as I approached the sliding glass door, peered in between the window slats, and surveyed the interior of my aunt and uncle's home. I could see the bedroom door was closed.

AHA! Someone was in the shower when I first rang the doorbell! By now they should be able to hear me . . .

Gingerly I pulled the door.

Gently and easily it slid open.

I poked my head indoors, and prepared to call out ~

A menacing growl stopped me in my vocal tracks. I looked down, and found myself eye to eye with a large chocolate lab who was *obviously* very curious as to know what I thought I might be doing . . .

Ever so slightly I shifted by body weight backwards to close the door upon him, successfully creating a barrier ~ but I was too late!

Before I could even think, he was upon me, fast and furious, licking me with a big wet, sloppy tongue!

"Some guard dog you are!" I muttered to him, as he jovially allowed me access to his domain. I called out with gusto this time: "Anybody home?"

Silence.

With a deep sigh, yet decided action, I rounded the corner to the waiting, restless natives and urged their participation in my dastardly scheme.

"Come on, gang! We'll wait here in the back yard, and let the babies play, at least for awhile. Who knows? Maybe Uncle is just down the road picking up a . . . a new tie . . .and he'll be home in a jiffy!"

The children were skeptical. Who could blame them? Their mother was urging them on to a life of crime and juvenile delinquency. Of course, there were needs such as bathroom breaks and a pen to jot a note and a visit to the kitties to be made . . .

We had to have proof. You know, if my family were to question whether or not we'd actually attended the graduation of their beautiful daughter ~ pictures were not only necessary . . . they were VITAL!

My sons' sensibilities were the most damaged. Not having grown up on a farm, wherein the doors between homesteads were left unlocked, he had no point of reference for this disturbing chain of events. He soothed himself by making calls back to the land he knew . . .

Meanwhile, the KBoyz were THRILLED to be out of the car seats, and into whatever the world held for their engagement. The badminton set contained great appeal:

The Kboyz successfully included the athletic skills of Bethalina Jolie in their sport pursuit that fateful afternoon:

Alas ~ all too soon it was time to commence driving to the Commencement Exercises. Extended family home or no ~ the event must be attended! However, all that birdie action created great thirst, and created yet another paparazzi sighting of Bethalina, captured on film:

The nosebleed section of the auditorium became our campsite for graduation. I scoured the crowd, in search of my uncle and his wife . . . to no avail. With 400 graduates' families waiting in the wings of the huge building, who is surprised??

Still bent on photographic proof, I determined I'd capture my cousins' march across the stage.

In the end, Murphy's Law continued to prevail.

Oh, I got grad pics alright . . . but not *one* of her!

:groan!:

As we drove into the night sky, returning to our origin of destination, we discussed heartily the inevitable surprise due my aunt and uncle.  That note, sitting on the counter?  The evidence I left them of a familial break-in?  Surely it would be an event to be discussed for many days to come . . .

So, there you have it, Choosers. Yet another adventure to be had here at ChoiceCentral.

I know you love to live your life vicariously through me. In this particular instance, the Reader's Digest version is easier than the real thing! LOL :D