The Law

I used to get pulled over a lot when I was younger. My {formerly} reckless nature led me to believe that I had to get everywhere at the highest possible speed and that every stoplight was just an opportunity to try out my Indie 500 lead food skills. Needless to say, The Law didn't think much of my adolescent ways. And I got stopped on a pretty regular basis. But the thing I had going for me back then was two fold. My gender, and an ability to cry whenever I was pulled over. Please let me assure you, I have no talent as an actress. Those tears were a real manifestation of the fear I had of being ticketed, and the resulting parental suspension of my driving privileges, which as you know is the equivalent of social death to a teenager. And fortunately for me {and unfortunately for the rest of the drivers on the road} I have only ever gotten one ticket in my lifetime. But I still got that anxious shaky going-to-cry feeling whenever I got pulled over.

Fast forward a few years and I am very proud to say I have not only broken my need for speed, but I have also not been pulled over for about six years. That is until last Friday.

I was heading home from work on Friday for lunch when I realized there was a sheriff's car behind me at the stop sign. And then I realized I didn't have my seat belt on. Great. So after I made my left turn, I slipped the shoulder strap down and attempted to buckle it, and wouldn't you know it, the twisted strap was refusing to latch in. And then the lights turned on behind me.

I pulled over and put my arm down to hold the belt in place, knowing full well that when I was asked for my licence and registration, I would have to lean over to my glove box and the belt would spring back to my left shoulder and then it would all be over. But nonetheless, I rolled down my window as the sheriff approached, and managed to squeak out a hello while my knees were knocking together. And nice as can be, he said

Did you know your registration is expired by like, nine months?

at which point I proved once again what an idiot I am around cops.

What?!?! Are you kidding me?

I can only attribute this ridiculous response as an indication that I obviously believe all cops are out to play jokes on me, as we have seen once before in this adventure.

At which point he tells me that just going down and getting my car registered would be less money than a citation for it and recommends that I get that taken care of as soon as possible.

And when he walked away, I did a quick self inventory and noted that while my heart was beating a million times a second and my legs were still shaking so bad my knees were knocking together, I had not cried. A personal victory. And as I let out a sigh of relief, my seat belt flew out from underneath my arm and retracted itself back into place.

And remember the referee that lives in my head? He waved his arms and yelled "SAFE" as The Law walked away.

P.S. Have I ever mentioned that I dated a cop once upon a time? A story for another day I suppose.

P.P.S. Always wear your seat belt and drive in accordance to the laws and rules of the road.

P.P.P.S. This is a public service announcement.

P.P.P.P.S. This is a recording.

Keepin' it real. And sometimes legal.

~k rock~

"Letting go" ~ alternately titled ~ "how I got over the blue bag incident"

All my bags are packed, I'm ready ta go
I'm standing here outside yo' do'
hate to wake you up to say goodbye.

Cause I'm leeeeaaavvvvin' on a jet plaaane
Don't know when I'll be back agaaaain

Blue bag. The one I didn't want. Has grudgingly become an accepted piece of luggage around here.

Why would I not want a blue bag?

Story.

We had just arrived in Las Vegas and were unloading the rental *grimace* mini van in the parking garage of the condo and somebody got a little too aggressive with my maroon bag and tore the strap off while lifting it out. Irreparable. And I was sad, because that bag had been a good and faithful friend. But as it was the beginning of the trip, I certainly couldn't go without some form of substitute to my ultra stuffed bag. So after getting properly checked in and unpacked, we went to the outlet mall.

Now let me stop right here and tell you that very rarely are guys good marathon shopping companions. Like seriously. They poop out after one or two hours and start complaining that they are dying of thirst/joint pain/hunger or they have contracted some form of mall spread communicable disease. None of which squeezes empathy from my cold shriveled heart, but all of which annoys the living daylights out of me. Again though, I said very rarely. My bro in law, Lance the Pants is the rare exception, which is a very good thing being that he is married to my ultra picky clothes horse older sister. He can marathon shop with the best of them. Now my darling husband and my brother, Mo are not such great shopping companions. Lacking in patience, endurance and one might argue, style, they are the type you would rather leave home when on a long shopping expedition. (Short term jaunts into the world of retail are fine, they just fail miserably when asked for more than like five minutes per store.)

So the five of us were perusing this great Mecca of stores in Vegas and after about 30 minutes, Scotland and Mo were ready to head home, having spent exactly 2.5 seconds in each store. Meanwhile, the rest of us were on probably our fifth store, and were certainly not ready to go yet, which I argued vehemently to my husband via cell phone. Besides, I hadn't yet found that blessed piece of replacement luggage, so we couldn't go.

Thinking the matter was settled and those two would just have to stick it out, I perused one of the luggage stores again. Did I want a black bag? Or a pink one? What style would be most versatile and user friendly while being sturdy? Being that this was the second piece of luggage I have ever had the luxury of choosing for myself, I was taking the whole thing very seriously and considering every possibility against the one suitcase I do have. Would the colors and styles go well together? Was it a fair price for an item I would hopefully own for several years? Would the straps hold up well (being that straps was what got me into this predicament in the first place) and did they have the right length and width for comfort?

Whilst I was in the midst of this very great and important decision making I noticed out of the corner of my eye that someone was peering in the window of the store at me. The shop girl to my right was educating me on the valuable features of a very nice bag when I recognized the window man. Husband. And not only was it husband, but he had a store bag in his hand that he was attempting to remove an item from. And then he was holding up said item, a blue and tan bag of the exact same shape and style of my now unusable bag. He had a big smile on his face while he pointed to the bag and motioned for me to come out of the store.

My jaw dropped. What had he done! I didn't want that bag, this was my big chance to get something I really wanted that matched my other maroon suitcase and he had gone and picked up any old thing just so we could leave!!!!!! I was furious!

Chaos ensued as I left the shop girl holding the black bag and went tearing out of that store to verbally ream my husband and demand that he return the bag. Just as I reached him, Mo, Pants and Kari showed up as well, and their laughing at my goofy husband saved him from the head severing I had in mind for him. (I just can't yell at him when there are other people around.) No one understood why I was so mad, and as usual, I couldn't articulate it at the time, so I pouted as we headed back to the van.

It took me a little while to give up on my grudge and accept the bag. I really didn't want to, I figured maybe Scotland would adopt it and I would be free once again to find the perfect item to replace it. But as time has passed, I have realized three very important things. One, my husband will never give up his old army bags as his preferred form of luggage because to him luggage is no big deal. It doesn't matter. Two, I have to consciously force myself to let go of the anger I was harboring from this incident and constantly tell myself "It's not a big deal. It is just an ugly bag" as I am lugging it from place to place.  And the third thing? Shortly after we returned from this infamous vacation, I had just unpacked my maroon suitcase and lifted it to carry it upstairs, when I noticed that the plastic handle was severely mangled on the trip home and is...irreparable.

Yay! New luggage!

And guess who will not be coming when I pick it out?

Cowboy dad

Incognito

You could say I have been on a mission, lately. A mission to keep my private life... well... private from the individuals I work with. For the most part, this mission just requires my vague answers to personal questions and generally keeping my mouth shut at work. And typically it works quite well and is pretty easily done. However today was a different story.

I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for today as a followup to my surgery from two weeks ago. As I was finishing up a few things at work and getting ready to go, the pregnant woman I work with headed out the door. She was apparently headed to the doctor at the same time as me. And what is more, she was headed to the same doctor as me.

Well, this was a bit of a problem for me, since I had been trying keep my coworkers in the dark about the nature of my surgery, and seeing the preggo one at the OBGYN's office was not the best way to do that.

I drove to the doctor contemplating how I could manage to avoid seeing her there. I even considered skipping out on the appointment, but rescinded after remembering the list of questions I had brought with me for the doctor.

Her car was parked right out front, so I parked around the corner in the employee parking section. Before I headed in, I slipped on a jacket and a pair of sunglasses I keep in my car. Then I threw my hair in a messy bun and checked my reflection in the mirror.

Oh yeah. Really good. Now I just look like a sloppier version of myself...

But there was not much I could do, so I tentatively approached the doors. I had arrived just late enough that she was not in the waiting room anymore. I quietly said my name to the receptionist, who had to lean forward to hear me. Then I went to the furthest corner of the room and grabbed some reading material to hold up in front of my face.

At this point I should probably mention that since it was an OBGYN office, the reading material was a book of baby pictures. Yeah. Just what I needed.

Keeping my sunglasses on, I periodically peeked over the top of the book, keeping a wary eye out for said coworker. The nurse called me back and we slipped into the little alcove where they weigh you and take your vitals. I heard someone coming around the corner, so I casually put my hand up and ducked my head to shield my face from view. A pair of scrub pants walked past the alcove. I let out the breath I had been holding. The nurse that was sitting with me gave me a quizzical look and told me to relax, as I had disrupted the blood pressure screening. She ran it again as I looked around nervously. Finally, she said she would take me to an exam room, and proceeded to lead me down the longest hall ever made. As we were almost to the end, the door in front of me opened up and I heard the doctor ushering his patient out the door. She was turned to face him with her back to me as he gave her instructions on when her next appointment should be. I was almost to the door they were coming out of when she turned around and came face to face with me.

And then I died.

Because it wasn't her, it was just someone with the same colored jacket as her.

And she walked past me with that barely contained enthusiastic smile that newly pregnant women always have.

I walked into the exam room at the end of the hall and the nurse shut the door behind me. I sat next to the door, and a few moments later, heard the voice of the woman I work with as she walked down the hall.

I had barely made it.

So the doctor came in and did his thing and I asked a brazillion and one questions and then headed out the door. Her car was gone, and I was completely relieved. The referee in my mind yelled "Safe" as he waved his arms in front of me.

highlights

I am so totally bad, it has been a whole week since I posted last. So rather than boring you with the crazy details, I will hit the highlights...

1. Kitten still does not have a name. It is a boy, and he is wild and crazy with blue eyes and striped orange/brown fur. I am stumped. We have tossed around the following possibilities...

Mickey Blue Eyes

Chili Bean

Cinnamon Bear

Weasel

Picolo (pronounced peek-o-low)

Any ideas? I really have no clue... Our other cat is named Sugar, which is short for Brown Sugar (which was more about her coloring than her *sweet* personality) (because she bites) (and she really is not so sweet...)

2. Did the years first official campout with the parentals this weekend, and it was fab*you*luss! We went fishing and dad did the cowboy shoot so that was tons of fun. I liked getting out there before the memorial day rush, but even so the campsite was slammed... And M and D got to see the slapstick routine that is my relationship with Scotland, which was very entertaining to them. Plus, everything smells like campfire now, so that is fantastic!

3. The pink room is still under construction, but I am madly in love with the newly textured walls and the real wood floors that were hidden under the pepto pink shag! Hello gorgeous!

4. And I forgot to mention that last weekend (not camping weekend, the one before) we slipped down to PKY for a few brief hours to celebrate my seester Jami-girl's grad-gee-aye-shun. She is done with school, woot woot!

5. I am not the type of person that would put the phrase "woot woot" in a blog without serious consideration and thought. I am much too sophisticated for that business...

Christmas excess ~alternately titled~ The glass half full

The other day Scotland and I went for a drive to the famous "Candy Cane Lane" in our town. We wanted to get into the Christmas spirit, and enjoy the beautiful light displays. I snuggled up in my pajamas for the journey, complete with fuzzy slippers. We took the "arctic cat" (the name for my Honda when she has her studded tires on) and she did wonderfully on those snowy, slick roads.

I was completely amazed at the ostentatious displays of excess we were presented with.

Not to say I didn't enjoy myself. It was very pretty. But it just got me thinking, you know? Why is it that even in the midst of this catastrophic recession you see such huge and elaborate displays?

Now, I could go two different ways with that. The pessimist in me responds with comments on the example that people have not learned their lesson, and they continue to push themselves into an even deeper financial hole because they are following the tradition of excess that they have had in years past.

But today, I don't want to be cynical. Today I want to hope that people are showing their resilience to the sadness of these times. I want to know there are people out there that refuse to let it suppress them. I want to be proud of the hope that it represents and the resilience of strong people.

Today, I will be a glass half full kind of person.