We survived the cliff of death today. Since we were on the death side of the steep cliff with soft shoulders and no guard rails I had talked of being in the back seat behind Mike with my seat belt off and the door unlocked in case I needed to bail out quickly. I am proud to say, however, I made it through the entire grueling 1.7 miles of terror without having the door unlocked. I was still in the back seat behind Mike with the seat belt off and ducked down so I couldn't see the impending doom while having a very serious talk with Jesus so I'm not sure how much of a victory over fear that was.
We also made it through the border without any problems. We had our firearms paperwork in order and an itemized list in triplicate of our things in the trailer so we were ready to go. I was definitely sure, though, that the wrong person was in the driver's seat when customs started asking questions. "What kind of bow do you have?" The answer in my brain: "The kind you shoot animals with." I decided it was better to appear stupid than remove all doubt and relayed the questions to Mike. Upon hearing Mike's response to "How many rounds of ammo do you have?" (I again kept my response of "A whole bunch" silent) I am beginning to think my husband's addiction to firearms may be reaching the point of needing intervention. If the United States is ever attacked, the U.S. military just may be coming to our house for supplies.
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