Stranded.

Stranded.  On the deck.  100*.  Sun beating down.  Flies circling their "prey".

How did we get here?

It had been such a hectic day.  Asked to speak in church, I had been rather frazzled preparing and delivering my talk.  On top of that, both counselors were out of town, so I was to conduct and do sharing time for primary (thanks to my super-star secretary, who stepped in and conducted the jr. primary, I was at least able to make sure the little man was fed).  We had a half a million visitors at church, which meant matching kids to classes, and then we had not one, not two, but SIX baptisms after church. (Awesome, right??)

We were all exhausted when we got home from church.  Me from the preparing, stress, and anxiety that had been ailing me all week, and Seth from the preparing, stress and anxiety that had been ailing me all week (thus, directly affecting him).

We took a brief Sunday nap.

The weather had "cooled" off, (so it was maybe 95*) the sun was behind some high clouds, and we decided to enjoy our bbq on the deck.

 Ah, shucks.  It was nice.

After enjoying delicious burgers, corn, fruit, the works, it was starting to get hot.  The sun had come back out and Hazel was starting to sweat (it doesn't take much for that little girl).

Seth was headed inside for something, when...

uh oh.

"ger?"

uh oh.

"seth, you're joking, that's not even funny"

"not joking, ger"

"but how?"

Sliding glass door had locked behind us.

LOCKED.  As in NO WAY into our house.

No biggie if:
A- you don't lock all your windows.
B- you have stairs down from your deck.
C- your deck isn't on the 2nd floor (a verrry high 2nd floor)
D - you know for a fact that a door is unlocked.
E - you have a spare, somewhere.  Anywhere (not inside the house).
F- your phone wasn't locked in the house.  (Not to call anyone, who would we call?  But at least I could play Words with Friends)

In the 3 years we have lived here, we may or may not have locked ourselves out one, two, three, oh heck, four times.  Each time we agree we will get a spare made and leave it with the neighbors.  Well, after the first time (which Seth's brother and wife were witnesses to), we went and had spares made - but they of course were cut wrong and don't work in our locks....and we never got around to getting new spares made.

Because Seth was a part-time cat burglar before we got married, we've been able to get in to the house with a little this and a little of that, which may or may not use the ol' credit card trick.

Earlier this spring, Seth's mom and I got locked out and we attempted to break back in (Hazel was napping in her crib, after all).  And to no avail.  Although I had used the burglar-method successfully once before to get in (when Seth was at Scout Camp).  That day it wouldn't work.  Seth's mom and I had destroyed our "spare key" that we kept hidden, aka the hotel key-card.  And I had to pull Seth away from blowing who-knows-what up, to come rescue us.

Oh.

Wondering what happened to the little family stranded on the deck?  Sorry, I get distracted easily.

There we were, the four of us, temperature rising, kids getting sweaty (and cranky) and parents trying not to laugh while I think we were both secretly panicking. 

Seth was sure our "spare" was in the garage.  I was positive I had destroyed said "spare" a few months ago.  So, armed with a lid to the butter, and after making Hazel promise to forget what she was about to see, Seth climbed over the deck rail, squatted down, clung to the edge of the deck, lowered himself and dropped the last 6-8 feet.  (I wasn't kidding, it's a tall deck).  With a smile and a thumbs up he headed to the garage.

Once he was gone, I started to imagine us stranded on the deck forever, wondering how long we'd survive.  Rationing the last two hamburgers, one corn on the cob, three grapes, six mango chunks, and the mayo.  Seth would live longer, I would never give into eating the mayo.

The kids were sweating.  The sun was hot.  Our neighbor was grilling.  I imagined having to toss Averett down to him, in a save-yourself fashion.  (Because it's not like we don't have a ladder in the garage, or anything).

I started to move the food to the "shade".  Because, you know, if we are going to be living off mayo and Dijon mustard, I'd prefer it not be spoiled.  Said "shade" consisted of the smallest patch left by the grill.  (Maybe we should have ordered the shades for the deck at the beginning of the summer.  Meh.)

Hazel was doing her best to be brave, but her unexplainable fear of flies (yes, flies) was getting the best of her and she was running in circles around the deck fleeing for her life from the flies (in her opinion).  Though, as an observer, I would say she was more running into the flies.

Nevertheless, I had just resigned myself to a life of deck-living, and was about to ask our grilling-neighbor if he and his wife would mind throwing food up to us every few days, so we could survive.

When  whooooosh the glass door slid open and my very own MacGyver was standing there in all of his air conditioned glory. 

Turns out I had been right, no "spare" key, butter lid was a fail (and destroyed), but with a little of this, a little of that, some random objects in the garage and some serious praying from both parents, he was able to get in.

Our schedule for tomorrow:
1. Home Depot - spare key
2. Neighbors - keeper of the spare key
3. Purchase 72 hour kit for the deck.

For the record: Seth was never a cat-burglar, and you can't actually break into our house with a credit card.  So don't try.  But if you do, please steal the TV.  Seth says we can't replace the big old clunky thing until it dies.  (And like the Corolla, it seems to have a freakish determination to live forever).