I Don't Think the Apostle Paul Meant This Kind of Race

Last night we had a really fun care group meeting. We were told to bring a dollar. That's all we were told. When we got there, each of us had to put our name in the bag that Mitzy passed around the room. She and Jim hinted that the game is akin to the Amazing Race. I asked if anyone in the room spoke a foreign language and I insisted I would not rapel down anything. They assured us that English was all we needed and no ropes or harnasses were involved. (Though, looking back, maybe we should've had harnasses.)

Mitzy then drew out three names: Paul, Ronan, and Bill.

These guys became our team leaders. Mitzy chose three names to go with each of the aforementioned guys. I ended up on Team Ronan, along with Karen and Steph.

Mitzy handed each team an envelope which contained five dollars and a set of instructions. The instructions were as follows:
1) Be the first team to get back to the house with a snack to feed 12 people with the money.
2) The snack has to start with the letter that you roll on the lettered die.The snack can be a brand name (e.g. Pringles) or general name (potato chips).
3) Bring your receipt back.
4) A judge (in our case, Kelly) will decide which team had the best snack and followed all the rules.

We rolled the die as fast as we could--our letter was "C"-- and then ran for the cars. Ronan and Karen unbuckled two carseats faster than trained EMTs, and tossed them helter-skelter into the third row. Steph and I hopped in the captains' chairs. Why did I choose this night of all nights to wear a skirt and heels? I dunno, but let's just say Emily Post would've shuddered.

"C" was easy. We could get chips, cookies, cheese, crackers, Corn Nuts. "Where do we go?" I quickly assessed our nearby options.

"I bet Paul goes to Giant!" I said.
"How about Wawa?" Steph asked.
"Nah, it can be hard to get in and out of...safely anyway!" I said. "But Walgreen's is right up here."

Ronan nearly lost his Christianity at the wheel. The van in front of us (not part of our care group) just piddly-poked along Abingdon Road while the rushed Irishman threatened to bump him off (off the literal road, not the road of life) or go around him on the foot-wide shoulder. Thankfully his wife is more level headed. And thankfully she's a nurse just in case he made good on either threat. Meanwhile I'm multi-tasking (ie. hanging on for dear life while telling them where to find the snack aisle). "Two-thirds of the way to the photo counter, turn left! All the snacks are right there!" Such knowledge is downright embarrassing.

Ronan and I stayed out curbside while the other two ran in. I told him that revving the engine of a minivan is just wrong. (So is nearly taking out three pedestrians in the parking lot during our trivial pursuit, but we won't talk about that.)

Seconds later--okay, several long, grueling minutes later-- Karen and Steph come flying like thieves out of Walgreen's. (I think the receipt rule was made in case of
cops, but that's just a guess.) They got Chips Ahoy and wafer cookies. We covered both the proper noun and common noun allowance in one fell swoop. With eleven cents in hand, we zoomed back to the Gayner home.

Once again, Run-the-Red-Light Ronan made threats when he saw Paul's car in his rearview mirror on Toby's street. "Hang on! I'm gonna ride up the sidewalk , across the lawn, and park at the front door. Don't let anybody ahead of us!"

I suggested throwing the car seats in the road behind us. I think I saw it on "Speed Racer" once a long time ago. No wait. Racer X didn't have kids. He used metal spikes. Kids don't last very long riding on metal spikes.

Well, Team Paul --which had gone to Giant--made it back the fastest. I am not one whit surprised. "He drives like that all the time, "I said. Mitzy and Dayna had executed their masterplan at the store. "You stand at the self-checkout, I'll go to a register! " They had Eggo chocolate chip waffles and Entenmann's Pop'Ems (donut holes).

Team Bill had gone to Wawa. I think he realized his Nascar fantasy on Rt. 924. Mind you, the posted speed limit is only 40, but in his book it's only a suggestion. Lauren was in such a hurry she forgot the game rules. She grabbed their Doritoes and ran. "Want your receipt?" the cashier asks as Lauren exits. "No, that's okay, thanks!" For the unfamiliar, Wawa is probably a place where it would truly be a good idea to have proof of purchase if you pull a pit crew number like that.

Back at the ranch, we congratulated Team Paul. No, we didn't. We recited all the ways they cheated and should henceforth never fellowship with us again. Who needs Paul's guitar anyway? We can do karaoke worship. It's been done before.

Then we had a wonderful coffee table spread of C,D, and E goodies. We munched right out of the bags and boxes. Again, Emily Post would've shuddered. But boy, would she have had a blast!