Stick in the Mud

Even in the best of circumstances I am not the most "fun" person around. I am fully aware of it and admit it freely. I have a fairly straight-forward and serious demeanor and once I'm fixed on a way of doing something, I am just that, fixed.

Some would even call me a "stick in the mud."

I usually don't think I am that bad, but Saturday as I took the boyfriend, R, down to meet my family and see the place where I grew up, stuck in the mud is exactly how we found ourselves.

In all honesty, I didn't intend to get stuck in the mud and through the wonders of four-wheel drive on my truck, I managed to avoid it; however, my 14-year-old nephew, trying to be clever and do an end around in the muddy field with his pawpaw's truck, did not. I backed into position in an attempt to pull him out, but he was so thoroughly stuck, I bogged in as soon as my tires started spinning.

Two trucks stuck in the mud.

At the back of a muddy pasture.

That's exactly the way I wanted to introduce a boyfriend to my childhood home.

He was quickly on the phone seeking assistance from New York in the brief moment he found a cell phone signal. Judging by the comments his friends left on the Facebook photo he posted, they were not much help.

My nephew was quickly dispatched to the house to get the tractor and a chain. I suggested he run since the whole mess was his fault. Judging by the short time it took to hear the tractor start, I think he sprinted the 1/3 of a mile back to the barn to get the tractor. Shortly afterward, we were free of the mud and on our way to the rest of Christmas.