Attention Fellow Garage Patron……

Date: Today and going forth until the end of time

Attention Fellow Garage Patrons,

It has come to my attention, as a fellow patron of the Land Down Under, that you may not have been informed as to proper “garage” etiquette.  So, to assist you in your transition or refresh your memory, if you have been here for a while, but have had some lapses in judgement, here are a few tips that might be helpful in your daily parking execution.

* The lines between the spaces are not to be UNDER your vehicle, EVER. Rather, there should be two of those pretty cheesy colored lines on either side of your car. Your car tires should be equidistant from the lines on both sides, not touching them. If I have to go through my sunroof AGAIN to get into my car because you don’t know what equidistant means and can’t park in the middle of the space, I’ll make sure to hop up on your hood to get into my car.  For the record, I ain’t little. Again, BETWEEN the cheese sticks, NOT on the cheese sticks.

*If your vehicle is sticking out of a space marked “Compact Cars Only” by a two and half feet,  your car/truck/bus/moonrover is NOT compact size, and you’re blocking the aisle! Of course, if you like parking in those spaces with your “compact car,” I’ll gladly take off your front end with my big ass SUV as I try to manuever through the garage to get to the space for my big ass SUV. You know the ones not marked “Compact Cars Only.”

*Conversely, if you DO own a compact car, please park in the spaces indicated for your vehicle size.  If your car is in a space that looks like it can fit three more cars in it along with yours (and still not be over the lines-see first bullet), then please troll on over to the spaces for the Matchbox cars.  If those spaces are full, please feel free to call me and I can park your car inside my big ass SUV.  If turned on its side, your car should slide in quite nicely. If driving the new Fiat 500, we can squeeze two in.

*For those veteran parkers, I know were all adults here, but I’m calling “Same Seats!” If you park in a regular space, then park there.  No need to wander over to my usual spot, just cause you want to sit with the cool kids or try something new.  Please note the previous references to the big ass SUV.  If you continue parking in my space, me and my big ass SUV will help you back to your regular one. Beat it, buster! I mean it. To newcomers who accidentally park in my space, you get a one-day free pass. If you’re in my space two days in a row, you will be treated like a veteran interloper. In which case, please reference this bullet from the beginning. Consider this your friendly reminder. And I use the word “friendly” lightly. Very lightly.

I hope you find these tips helpful in assisting you in your daily excursions into the our little slice of combustible heaven.  Thank you and have a pleasant day (not in my parking spot)!

Riding the Line,

Edge

“….I Killed Mommy”…..

It’s really cold outside and has been for the past few days.  Today is no different.  Before I get out of bed, I know it’s going to be a really cold one. Bones are creaking and stuff is aching, particularly my shoulder….

It was the first warm day of the year and the kids wanted to go up to the church parking lot and ride around on their bikes, skateboards, scooters, etc…Big Daddy was washing the car, and my mother-in-law, Ma, was in town.  As the kids piled in the truck, I ran inside and grabbed my son’s skateboard. I used to skateboard all the time as a kid. It’d be fun to have a whirl.  I’m thinking, “Got my cargo pants on, my low top teal-colored chucks on, and I’m going skateboarding with my kids.  I’m the cool Mom. The “Mom of the Year” award is surely in my grasp.  I could feel it.

As I bounded down the front steps, Big Daddy looked up and asked me what I was doing with the skateboard.  “I’m going skateboarding, what’s it look like?” To which he responded, “Woman, put that damn thing back in the house.”

“I got it, I’m good!” 

We rolled up to the parking lot and unloaded.  I took a few spins on the board and was feeling pretty pleased with myself, thinking I’ve STILL got it. I was cruising around, and saw Mini-Me off to my left, heading directly into my path.  He was wearing a helmet, but even so, I was thinking if I run into him, he’s going to hit the pavement and get busted up.  So I took one for the team and hopped off my skateboard.  Bad move.  Whomever said that we’re supposed to throw ours hands out to break our fall was an IDIOT.  I stuck my hands out and and as soon as I hit the pavement, I felt it…..I dislocated my shoulder.

I saw Mini-Me standing over me saying, “Oh my God, I killed Mommy!”  It was interesting to see my kids’ reactions; Mini-me was scared he ‘d killed me, Whirling Dervish went quiet, her “worry” mode kicking into high gear, and Glamour Rayz wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but her eyes were bugging out of her head.

There I was, laid out on the ground with my arm perpendicular to my body, and not in a good way. Actually, It didn’t hurt, I just couldn’t put my arm down.  Ma came over and asked if  I was okay and could I get up.  I couldn’t.  “You have to get up! If Big Daddy sees you down there, you’ll never live it down. Get Up, get up!” she said. I started laughing and tried to figure out how I could get on my feet.  After a few minutes of trying unsuccessfully, I finally told her that she was going to have to call Big Daddy.  “Are you sure, can I help????”  She was smiling, because she knew….

Up rolled Big Daddy in the convertible.  He got out of the car, walked over, took one look at me and busted out laughing.  All I could do was join him. Whirling Dervish was slightly relieved that I was not going to die right there in the parking lot. Big Daddy tried to help me up, but I had to do it myself.  I took a  deep breath and sat up. I figured out that my arm didn’t hurt if I rested my hand on my head.  Big Daddy was still laughing.

While Ma took the kids and equipment home, reassuring Mini-Me that he hadn’t killed me and Whirling Dervish that I was going to live, Big Daddy drove me, arm on head, to the ER. He called Jersey Girl on the way, who also busted out laughing.  What great family and friends.

By the grace of GOD, there was no one in the waiting room.  When I say no one, I mean NO ONE.  We had to tap on the glass for the triage nurse to come.  We were ushered right in to do the preliminary stuff.  When the nurse asked me what brought me in today, I said I thought I dislocated my shoulder.  “And how did you do that?” She asked.  “Skateboarding…” She looked up from her computer screen to make sure he had heard me right.  She looked from me to Big Daddy to make sure I wasn’t pulling her leg.  Big Daddy started laughing again, ” Yes, you heard right.  Tony Hawke here was skateboarding with the kids.”  She just smiled and said, “Well, at least you were out with your kids.  You could have been lying on the couch.” I smiled.  At least someone appreciated my “Greatest Mommy EVER” effort.

We get back into the ER, and I am hooked up to an IV of pain reliever lickety split and am feeling REALLY groovy. My arm hadn’t really been hurting me, but the nurse knows best.  Every time someone asks about how I hurt myself and I explain  that I had been out skateboarding with my children, after they get bug-eyed with disbelief for a second that I said skateboarding, they all thought it was cool I was out being an active parent.  Woo Hoo! Maybe “Mother of the Year” is not out of my grasp after all.  Off for X-rays, I went.

Being the overachiever that I am, not only did I dislocate my shoulder, but I managed to fracture the joint as well.  Nice. Iwas told that the Orthopaedic Surgeon would pop my shoulder back in and then given all the instructions for recuperation at home. I couldn’t figure out why the nurse was all dreamy looking when  she was telling me about the surgeon. And then he came in….

Yes, I am happily married woman, but I know a fine specimen of human engineering when I see one.  Velvety voice, tanned olive skin, dark hair, hazel eyes, he looked like the cover of GQ Magazine.  I know I looked like a ding bat, cheesing like a Cheshire cat, hoping I wasn’t drooling from the IV drip. I tried to suck my stomach in, not that it would have mattered anyway.  I was flat on my back with my boobs in my armpits (y’all know how that works), looking like I had NO neck, and where he got a full view right up the bat cave.  I prayed there were no boogies in there. I didn’t have to worry about bringing “Sexy Back.”  Sexy had high-tailed right out of the ER, never to return. I just nodded while he talked, trying not to look like a total nut job.  He could have told me that I needed to shave my head and pick my toes to heal my arm and I would have followed the doctor’s orders to the letter. He said he thought I was cool for skateboarding with my kids.

Wait…..did “Doctor Hot” say he thought I was cool?

To hell with the Mother of the Year award.

I’m Baaack……

I have finally recovered from Thanksgiving…sort of. 

Those that know me, know that while I was an athlete all through high school and college, I am clumsy as hell and manage to injure myself in ways that might never have been discovered until I came along.  And so it was on Thanksgiving morning when I steam cleaned the inside of my nose and my eyeballs all in one shot.

So, I was doing my bit for the Thanksgiving feast.  We we’re expecting a crowd and we’re cooking like crazy. Big Daddy has the Turkey in the oven and is getting ready to put the ham in as well.  Ma is cooking up the candied yams adn dressing with chestnuts and sausage.  I had finished snapping 3000 green beans and had tossed them in a big pot with some onions, seasonings, chicken broth, smoked turkey necks and my favorite thing next to butter, bacon drippings. I turned the fire up and let it do its thing. It did it’s thing alright. 

I heard the pot bubblin’ away and went to check on my beenage.  A quick peek would hurt and I wanted to make sure that weren’t overcooked.  I lifted the lid did a quick flip of the wrist and got a full frontal-USER ERROR, USER ERROR!  As I had turned the lid, it acted like a scoop and lifted a wad of steam directly up my nostrils, which were instantly fried. I flushed my face with cold water, and luckily no permanent physical damage was done, but my DUH meter went up quite a bit.

When Big Daddy came into the kitchen and saw me standing over the sink, my face dripping wet and me squinting like Popeye, he knew that I had done something.  Giving me the  not- again face, he asked, “What’d you do?” “I burnt the inside of my nose,” I say, shaking off the water like a wet retriever. He rolled his eyes and smirked. He asked if I was okay, and then remarked, “Only you….”

Who knew you could burn the INSIDE of your nose???? It did take a few days to realize that I had also cooked my eyeballs and their sockets.  I thought it was my allergies, but then realized that was not so and there was little more to that feeling of someone rubbing steel wool back and forth over my corneas, that fact that I look like I lit a big fat spliff (without the benefits….so I’ve heard), and that my eyes hurt looking at bright light like I’m a bleeping Gremlin.

So, I am going to the Dr. to make sure there is no permanent damage, which will be interesting when I have to explain the nature of my visit…”Uuuuuh, I have green bean burns in my nose and on my eyeballs.”  I can just see all the little question marks floating above the receptionist’s head.

I can just feel my DUH meter inching up a little bit more.