Let me tell you a little story about a snake coming to visit.
Now listen friends: I have a terrible record with adrenaline. I am absolutely NOT the person you want around in an emergency. Unless of course vast overreactions, utter panic, and illogical solutions are you thing. If so? I'm your girl.
Which, in this situation is nuts. Why? I live in snake country. I have always lived in snake country. I live right on the edge of town and not a single summer has passed that someone hasn't discovered a rattlesnake in their yard.
Up until now it just hasn't been my yard.
But there we were. Nine kids (cousins included) running around in the backyard while I sat on the porch with a good book. I mean really? It was a pretty quaint scenario.
Okay fine. Mostly the kids weren't climbing all over me because I have a rule about them not being on the porch while I'm reading.
So when my sweet nephew walks up to ask for some water, I know he means it. I grabbed his hand to take him inside to get some and that's when we heard it...
The soul shaking hiss of a rattle.
And, as one does, I grabbed John and threw him in the house until he clattered across the wood floor like falling Jenga tower. Gosh, I'm so good with kids.
When I turned back around that four foot diamond back was about two feet away from where we had just been standing. In what I can only imagine was a voice shrill with "mommy means business" I screamed for the other kids to STAY ON THE SHIP BECAUSE THERE IS A SNAKE!!!!
(Which surprisingly is one of the most sensible things I did during the panic.) (They had made their fort into a ship.)
And then? I broke Usain Bolt's record running across the street to get my brother-in-law.
Did I pick up the phone and call? Did I stay to calm the children? Did I think of a reasonable solution for getting everyone safe while we dealt with the snake?
No. I ran.
(Which you know is a big deal, because I don't run.)
I threw open their door, screamed something about a rattlesnake and turned tail and ran back to be with the kids. Thus spreading the panic all over the neighborhood.
I mostly spent the next five minutes yelling at the kids to KEEP YOUR FEET OFF THE GROUND!!!! Meanwhile Brian showed up with a shovel and boots whilst wearing shorts.
Listen friends, I can't imagine what this scene looked like from the outside looking in, but the words Beverly Hillbillies comes to mind.
We ultimately couldn't get to the snake with a shovel because he was under the porch swing. Brian ended up chasing him out of the backyard. (Which of course I caught on Instagram Stories, because evidently adrenaline does not stop me from being able to actively participate in social media.)
He ended up shooting it three times in the front yard. At which point I had to call the Sheriff's office and let them know it was us that had been firing weapons in town. In the presence of small children.
After I called two deputies and the marshal showed up to see the snake. The picture up above is the scene they walked up to. You just can't imagine the serenity and preciousness that proceeds from this house.
I guess the moral of this story is that I should never serve in any capacity that could possibly spike my adrenaline. It serves no one well. Also? Snakes are bad.