Tag Archives: humor

Feb 17

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I drive a minivan. There I said it. Even though from the moment I reached adulthood, even before I had kids, I swore I wouldn’t drive one. I swore I was never going to be a “soccer mom.” Nothing against soccer, I actually don’t mind the game. I’ve spent many nights sitting on the sidelines of a soccer field. And of course, nothing against moms, since, you know, I am one. I simply rebel against stereotypes, and I didn’t want to be that mom in a minivan. And yet, with two grown children, I still drive mine. I guess I should take comfort in the fact that almost every one who sees me in my car for the first time is somewhat shocked. I actually had someone tell me that she imagined me driving a Mustang or a Charger or something sporty and cool. I think I disappointed her. I didn’t tell her that I actually had a Mustang at one point. It was a 1967 convertible…a project car bought when I was married. It was never finished enough for me to drive, and was the only item I requested in my divorce. Unfortunately, I didn’t know my ex had put a lien on it, so it disappeared along with everything else. I’ll have one again some day…

In the meantime, I drive what I refer to as my MUV (mini-van SUV combo). I think the front end looks more like a truck, which was the only thing that made buying it palatable. When I purchased it, I knew I needed something larger than the small car I was previously driving. The fact that my kids were right behind my head and literally hanging over my right shoulder in the car drove me mad. I told the dealer no minivans but no gas guzzlers either and in my price range, that really left no options. So when I saw my car and the nose wasn’t pointed like most minivans and there was enough space for the kids to be back far enough for me to pretend not to hear them whine, I relented. Plus it has a dvd system with remote headphones. My kids and I have spent many quiet years of driving together. Of course, over time there has become less of a need for hauling kids and more for hauling junk. I had a decorative painting business for a long time, and my car can carry a full-size ladder along with all my equipment. Take out the seats, and I have stacked almost a room full of furniture in there. I can pick out almost whatever I want at an antique shop and cram it in my car. Same goes with my hardware store addiction. Lumber? No problem. Snow blower? Load it up.

And that is why I can’t get rid of my minivan. It’s just so darn convenient. Although I have thought about it. I mean, really, I would look good in a sports car. I can drive a manual transmission vehicle, no problem, and I do like to go fast. But today when we got another 5 inches of snow, I plowed through it and never got stuck. That’s comforting. I guess it’s still working for me, thankfully. Until it no longer does, I’ll keep it.

Feb 13

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My day started out with taking my cat in to the vet for a teeth cleaning. He’s had horrible breath lately. To the point where I wished he wouldn’t try to bathe himself because it was making his fur stink. Finally, the day I walked into the living room and thought what died in here? only to discover Sousi yawning next to me, I knew it was time. I’m sure this is making me sound like a terrible pet owner. That I’d let him go so long without addressing an obvious issue. It’s true. I let it go longer than I should have and my only excuse is that I knew how much it was going to cost–more than it cost my daughter’s last visit to the dentist. As a single parent, there are always trade offs when it comes to expenses. If I get one thing this month, I may have to wait on something else. Knowing my cat wasn’t in distress (yes, I checked!) his teeth cleaning got put on the back burner until this month when his lottery ticket was drawn.

When I set the appointment, I explained that I had a 7:30 meeting this morning and the clinic was on my way there so it would be convenient to drop him off early. I was told that even though they opened at 7:30, I could bring him in at 7:15. Perfect. Now I’ve talked about my cat before. He’s 16 pounds, strong, and clever. I’ve never been able to get him into a pet carrier. Instead, I have a big wicker picnic basket with a hinged lid that I can usually lure him into. This morning, I had my daughter help me get him to the car in his basket. Once there I placed my purse on top of the basket to keep him from escaping since the lid doesn’t latch. As soon as I got in the car, he shoved his way out of his basket. Thankfully, my daughter hadn’t made it back to the house, so she helped stick him back, and we place my purse AND my tote bag of books on top of the basket. That seemed to be enough, so off I went. Now Sousi doesn’t like car rides. The only times he’s ever been in the car is when we’ve moved or he’s gone to the vet, so I understand his suspicion. But he’s an extremely vocal cat and I’m an extremely guilty pet parent when it comes to hearing him cry. Our 10 minute ride to the vet consisted of his wails and my singing interspersed with consoling phrases meant to soothe me more than him since he doesn’t understand too many words beyond treats and his name.

Of course I got to the vet early. And sat in the car with him peering pathetically at me through the holes in his basket. Not once did he stop crying. Apparently, the woman who scheduled my appointment forgot to tell anyone else that I was coming at 7:15. The first employee showed up at 7:22. I waited three minutes before carefully removing the barricade and carrying the basket inside. There his howls echoed off the walls and we were ushered into a waiting room where I could finally let him out. He wasn’t happy with me. He paced his way around the room looking every bit like a small tiger and wailed even louder. And like any good parent, I videotaped his tantrum. After a quick overview of expectations from his vet, I gave him a hug and turned him over so I could rush off to the meeting for which I was already 1/2 hr late.

He spent most of the day at the vet. I’m not sure if it’s true for all animals, but they have to put cats under in order to perform this procedure, so there’s always a concern that they may not react well to anesthesia. But I’m thankful to report that his cleaning went well–better than they expected. The staff even wrote “good job” on his paperwork. I’m not surprised. He may be a loud complainer, but he’s really not ever had issues or given me problems. So now, besides taking care of a potential health concern, his clean teeth also mean clean breath, which makes it much easier to cuddle. Bonus.

Feb 8

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I have a cat. He’s a sixteen pound orange tabby whose name is Sousi. It’s a misspelling of the French word souci, which means a worry or concern. His first vet office spelled it with an “s” so we just went with it. I guess that’s what you get when you’re trying to be clever by choosing a word in a foreign language few Americans speak. Of course, most people hear Susie, figuring its a female cat or, like my mother, have trouble pronouncing it at all and call him Sushi. I usually call him SUESS! or Sousibous or schnooks. Or sometimes it’s damnit cat or stupid cat depending on how precariously I’m about to trip over him.

I found him in an abandoned building on a piece of property I once owned. Actually, the night I spotted him, there were two kittens. My husband at the time said he had seen a cat prowling around, so we left the kittens assuming the momma cat would come back. And she did, but only for one. After a few days, I couldn’t stand it. I was too worried about him left alone in the winter, so I brought him home. (Hence his name.) He was barely bigger than my hand and I had to nurse him with a doll-sized bottle. He was the fluffiest, cutest little kitten. Then he grew. Imagine the most rambunctious two year old toddler you know and put him in cat form. That’s what he was like. He loved to hide in doorways or under footstools and jump out as we passed by, grabbing on to ankles and feet and scaring the crap out of us. He’d run through the house sounding like a little horse, climbing up whatever he could. Yet at night, he’d sneak into my bedroom with only the briefest of sounds and spring onto my bed like a ninja cat, usually directly on top of me. Then he’d chase my moving feet under the covers. It would surprise me every time.

These days, he’s become fat and much lazier. He’s close to 13 years old, so it’s no shock that he’d much rather cuddle than scare us with his antics. He loves to hug and if I put my finger in his paw, I swear he holds it, curling his little toes around as far as he can. I used to sing You are My Sunshine while dancing with him and when he’d gaze at me lovingly, I’d tell him that he was so handsome, if I were a cat, I’d marry him. It makes me laugh to even type that. Funny the things we say and do with our pets. Unfortunately, I’ve been guilty lately of complaining about how needy he is…he insists on being on me every chance he can. He’s not happy simply curled up near me, he wants to be as close to my face as possible. And some nights, I’m just too busy to be that attentive to him. But like most pets, he keeps coming back. Tonight when I got home, he was at the door waiting for me as usual. He followed me every where I went and sat in my lap as soon as I sat. Everyone should have someone or something in their lives that adores them that much. Today I’m thankful for my Sousi and his consistent reminder that I’m loved.

Day 30

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A couple of quick things today.

First, my snow blower works great. And I was able to help out a neighbor with her drive. Ok, I didn’t actually use the snow blower on her drive, but I did send my kids over with shovels to help her while I figured out how to start my new machine. I’m just sad I actually needed to use it. Show of hands on who is tired of winter.

Second, I have a friend who asked me to attend her daughter’s school play with her tonight. I ended up not going, which is not what I am thankful for (not really). Although I do have to admit to some harsh parental realism…school plays and other general, auditorium-based functions at the grade school level are torture for me. Don’t get me wrong, I was as proud as any parent to see my kids squirming and semi-singing from 50 yards away. They’d be dressed up in whatever holiday attire was appropriate at the time and inevitably standing behind someone twice their size, with me thinking…why? Why were they required to wear a Hawaiian grass skirt when it’s not even visible? My kid looks like a floating head. They should just require headgear. But even that isn’t what bothered me the most at these school functions. It was the lack of space and terrible sound systems. So many family members crammed into a hot, smelly gymnasium to hear a mashing of voices or just those couple of really loud kids… Then again, maybe it was just the schools my children went to. I’m sure there are probably schools that put on wonderful programs by talented children in spacious auditoriums that have fabulous sound systems. I would then have to amend my thinking.

I jest, a little. I know these school functions are a passage of child rearing that plays an important role for kids and their parents. They are moments to be proud of our kids and let them know it in a visible, public way. My children always looked for me in the audience and I always smiled and waved excitedly. And I would have done that tonight for my friend’s daughter. Being asked to go made me feel like family. And when it ended up that her boyfriend was able to get off of work, I let them go as a family without me. I’m sure there will be other opportunities over the years to join in. But today, I’m thankful to know my friend thinks highly enough of me to be part of her child’s life in that way. For that, I would have happily gone.

 

Day 26: Buried in Snow

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Once again, the weather has turned to crud. I woke this morning to more snow on my driveway. I don’t necessarily mind shoveling snow, but when the temperature drops to something around zero, it’s not fun. And the street plows typically show up about ten minutes after I’m done, shoving all the wet, compacted snow back into the end of my drive like a mini barricade. My next door neighbor (nice guy) has also taken it on himself to snow blow out a path on our adjoining yards to the fire hydrant located on our plot line. I’m sure he means well, but he shoots the snow towards my drive, adding more height to the dangerously high mound already there. Now, I’m not a tall person. When I shovel, I somehow need to toss the snow over this mound that’s darn near my height already. I’ve not said anything to my neighbor, but I really wish he’d shoot the snow into his own yard. He is about a foot taller than I am–and he has that darn snow blower on top of it! But I was raised Catholic, which means I have an innate sense of doom when it comes to these things. I know if I make this a problem, and he doesn’t plow out our fire hydrant, it’s my house going up in flames. With no hydrant visible.

So I say nothing and shovel and toss. Thankfully, the wind has been whipping through here at about 50 miles per hour. It almost just pulls the snow off of my shovel if I can get it up high enough. Of course, I need to be upwind for this to be truly effective. I’ve discovered throwing snow into the wind only gets my face chapped. And sends the snow back across the drive for me to chase. I hope someone had fun watching that one. I have gotten lucky, however. There have been a few occasions where I’ve gone outside to discover that a neighbor (not the aforementioned one) has come by and snow blown my drive for me. And a couple of times the lady across the street has walked over with her blower to help me after the snow plow came through after an hour of shoveling. I’m grateful for the help, but it makes me feel guilty. Most of my neighbors are retirees. I should be helping them. That’s how I was raised.

So today I’m thankful I needed to make yet another trip to Lowes. There I discovered a snow blower on clearance. A very nice, shiny red one that someone had returned for apparently a silly reason. I was assured it worked just fine, but because it had been returned, it was discounted. Not as much as I’d have preferred, but significantly. Enough to get it into my car. I’m still hoping it doesn’t snow another flake for the rest of the winter, but if it does, I’m now ready.

Day 24

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I honestly found it difficult today to think of something I am grateful for. I was crabby for most of the day. It was cold and blah. My work day dragged on. I had an afternoon meeting I wasn’t excited about. I had to force myself to go to the gym after work. I couldn’t find anything exciting in the refrigerator to eat for dinner. Really, all I wanted to do was complain.

So I stopped to think about the big picture. Nothing dreadful happened to me today. That’s a really good thing.

And then I thought about all the little things in-between my complaints. I have a job and I got there today because my car started, even in this weather. During my day, I spoke to numerous friends and acquaintances, some who simply checked in to say hello or emailed funny photos they thought would make me smile. My daughter stopped by my office to laugh about how she stalled her new car on her way to work. Then texted me later to say how she stalled it about 20 more times going to her dad’s house, but made it there safely. My niece sent a message, saying she got accepted into DePaul University, something she’s been hoping for and planning on for a long time. I had the chance to see several colleagues in my afternoon meeting and had an interesting discussion about teacher/student expectations during the learning process. A friend I hadn’t seen in a while met me at the gym and we had the chance to catch up over an hour on the treadmill. Then we made plans to get together again over the weekend. And because I found nothing decent to eat, I ate junk. Well, I added cheese to my popcorn, so I think that counts as something halfway good for me.

Once again, when it comes right down to it, I really don’t have much to complain about. Not every day is exciting, but there’s always something to be thankful for. Even if it’s just in the details.