Don't Cry Over Spilled Dr. Pepper
Short Stories Of Minnesota Country Life
Amanda's 4th memoir is a series of short stories recounting experiences of the author and her husband while living on their hobby farm in Minnesota between 2014 and 2020. The characters are just a couple of country kids who never really left the farm and as they grow older, their taxing and unforgettable experiences can sometimes be almost humorous. The old adage, "If you don't laugh, you will cry" ends up being true far too often.
A Debacle in the Car (An Excerpt)
March 2019
“Do you want to go along with me to Albert Lea?” questions my husband, “It is the only place I can find a silver cover for this light fixture that I need.”
Albert Lea is about sixty-five miles from our home which is not an outrageous distance. “Sure,” I respond, “Why not.”
We decide to go to the early service at a church in Rochester. Not only will it be closer to our destination, but we will be able to get an earlier start on our journey.
Instead of turning to get onto the interstate after church, Gordon pulls into the local Kwik Trip. “I need to get a Dr. Pepper.”
I patiently wait while he makes his purchase and a bathroom stop and then we are on the way. No sooner have we entered the interstate and Gordon has set the car’s cruise control at seventy miles an hour that he decides to take a drink from the newly opened Dr. Pepper. Suddenly, the car swerves violently and my heart skips a few beats. What is that all about? I reach for the steering wheel as I glance over to see what the problem is. Gordon is holding out a volcanic spewing pop bottle. Dr. Pepper is spilling onto him, the seat, and the center console of the car. I am distressed by the flow all over everything. Trying to help out, I reach out and take the bottle so he can gain control of the car. “@#@#@#,” I exclaim as the vomiting bottle continues to gush all over me.
“How did this happen?” I throw my question at him while trying to contain my rising irritation.
“I didn’t get the cap back on right and then I dropped it – twice.”
Great! I stuff my exasperation the best that I can. It wasn’t intentional. But I am still distraught. The driver’s car seat and Gordon’s pants are wet, the passenger car seat and my pants are wet, and dark spots of sticky liquid cling to nooks and crannies I hardly knew existed. We pull off the interstate and try to salvage the inside of my car. That pile of napkins I have been collecting in the glove compartment comes in handy along with Gordon’s handkerchief. Soon, we have cleaned and wiped all the surfaces that seem to have been hit by the cyclone bomb. It actually looks cleaner than before we started. I sigh. Let it go. No need to spoil the day over some spilt milk – Oh I mean Dr. Pepper.
March 2019
“Do you want to go along with me to Albert Lea?” questions my husband, “It is the only place I can find a silver cover for this light fixture that I need.”
Albert Lea is about sixty-five miles from our home which is not an outrageous distance. “Sure,” I respond, “Why not.”
We decide to go to the early service at a church in Rochester. Not only will it be closer to our destination, but we will be able to get an earlier start on our journey.
Instead of turning to get onto the interstate after church, Gordon pulls into the local Kwik Trip. “I need to get a Dr. Pepper.”
I patiently wait while he makes his purchase and a bathroom stop and then we are on the way. No sooner have we entered the interstate and Gordon has set the car’s cruise control at seventy miles an hour that he decides to take a drink from the newly opened Dr. Pepper. Suddenly, the car swerves violently and my heart skips a few beats. What is that all about? I reach for the steering wheel as I glance over to see what the problem is. Gordon is holding out a volcanic spewing pop bottle. Dr. Pepper is spilling onto him, the seat, and the center console of the car. I am distressed by the flow all over everything. Trying to help out, I reach out and take the bottle so he can gain control of the car. “@#@#@#,” I exclaim as the vomiting bottle continues to gush all over me.
“How did this happen?” I throw my question at him while trying to contain my rising irritation.
“I didn’t get the cap back on right and then I dropped it – twice.”
Great! I stuff my exasperation the best that I can. It wasn’t intentional. But I am still distraught. The driver’s car seat and Gordon’s pants are wet, the passenger car seat and my pants are wet, and dark spots of sticky liquid cling to nooks and crannies I hardly knew existed. We pull off the interstate and try to salvage the inside of my car. That pile of napkins I have been collecting in the glove compartment comes in handy along with Gordon’s handkerchief. Soon, we have cleaned and wiped all the surfaces that seem to have been hit by the cyclone bomb. It actually looks cleaner than before we started. I sigh. Let it go. No need to spoil the day over some spilt milk – Oh I mean Dr. Pepper.