Thursday, February 28, 2013

Things I've Learnt In College

The main thing I’ve learned to do in college is stalk people. This isn’t a class per se but the natural progression of having about 10% too little parking for the student body to park without circling like half starved vultures…. Or Christmas shoppers at the mall on Christmas Eve.

I’ve found that the best way to pass the time while circling the lot and following people who appear to be carrying keys is to listen to really good music, really loud. Today I realized that people don’t like to watch your personal sing-a-long if you are in their way. Nor do I think that that guy even *knows* who Jeremy Camp is. (His loss.)

The other thing I learned today was that if you are absently tapping your foot on something that isn’t your desk or the floor, you should check what it is because it just might be the wheel chair of the guy in front of you. 

My bad.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Mama Bear's Medium Sized Church

I used to go to a mega church. On the rare occasions when the lead pastor would see me ‘up close’ I could swear I would see stark terror in his eyes. I’m sure he was concerned that he had forgotten that we’d had a super important exchange at some point that he had now forgotten the details to.
Then I decided to change things up and go to a tiny church. Looking back, I really shouldn’t haven’t chosen a church where the majority of the population is elderly and senile and prone to outbursts. I found this interesting but distracting. I would find myself wondering what had transpired inside their minds that went from the sermon (point A) to randomly shouting about what someone had worn to a party several months ago (point B).
Now I’m attending what I’d call a reasonably sized church. Small enough that you feel like you know everyone but big enough that you could not sit by someone without being all *obvious*. All the families seem to have at least 3 kids- preferably more so I know when I say I have 5 they don’t look at me sideways and wonder if I’m a reformed Mormon.
Among the other things I love about this new church: everyone folds up their own chair after the service, all the band members are their own roadies, and no bats an eye at ‘homeschoolers’ and thinks they are raising socially awkward serial killers of the future. But my all time favorite thing about it? The communion bread. Today we had sour dough (or gluten free for the celiac suffers among the brethren). The bread is always chewy and bready instead of some crumb of wafer that leaves you thinking, why would Jesus be crunchy? At worst, you’d have Jesus jerky and he’d be real chewy.
Next weeks’ prayer request will have something to do with blasphemy & discernment.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Pros and Cons

  • Being able to wear yoga pants in public without being considered ‘weird’- advantage: women.

  • Wearing boxer briefs with bands around the thighs to keep underpants securely in place as opposed to knickers that climb up your ass like a lacy colonoscopy- advantage: men.

  • Being able to pout, cry or laugh hysterically and blame it on ‘hormones’ and then lock yourself in a room to drink wine and eat chocolate as a cure all- women for the win.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Pete vs Tony: the Ultimate Show Down

When dropping my car off at the mechanic yesterday, I let the man know that yes, I do know that the door handles are broken on my car and I am also aware that there is crayon melted into most of the seats and I don’t care to have those things fixed. Those things are small potatoes. My last car didn’t have brakes. Or seatbelts. Broken door handles I can live with. Literally.
This current car was bought under the auspicious advice of my former husband, Pete, who as fate would have it also recommended the aforementioned death trap. He found this car in a tiny lot in a seedy neighborhood. He insisted that *this* one was a good one. Not a lemon like the last.
We test drove it. Well, he test drove it. I was still suffering from driving related PTSD. He assured me that this was a good car. I laid down my cash Dave Ramsey style and drove away. Two days later, the check engine light came on.
After finding out it was the catalytic converter, we paid a visit to the salesman. He reminded us very firmly that we had signed an ‘as is’ sales agreement. ‘But you knew it was bad when you sold it to us, Tony’ and ‘I could get all my kids to picket your business’ pressed Pete. The salesman would not relent. ‘I know bad people, Tony. People who have nothing left to lose,’ hedged Pete. The seedy car salesman picked up his cell phone, “I know people too, Pete.”
This was clearly getting us know where. I was coming in to full panic mode. I would have gladly paid to have the part replaced myself at this point just to end the tension in the room. After a long silence, Pete ventured again. ‘I could put this all over Facebook’. Tony replied horrified, ‘why you gotta do my like that man… that #&(%s me?! Fine I’ll pay to get it replaced.’
Then Pete said some kind of blessing over him. They exchanged niceties about places of worship. Pete later went back and fixed his computer. And why shouldn’t they be friends? They speak the same language.
And he did get my catalytic converter fixed that week. And yesterday, on year later I was paying to have it replaced with parts that fit, natch.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

How to take a 7 year old to gymnastics:

5 pm
Mother alert my child that dinner is ready.
Child eats approximately 3 bites.
Mother replies to business emails.
5:10-5:20 pm
Mother repeatedly reminds her that we are leaving soon so EAT.
5:25 pm
Mother sternly alerts child that it is VERY NEARLY time to go and to get her shoes and coat.
5:30 pm
Mother demands that child puts on her shoes OR ELSE.
Child turns on the Wii.
Mother makes a sound like short circuiting robot and walks out of room for CALMING BREATH.
5:31 pm
Mother informs child to put on shoes or else.
Child begrudgingly puts on shoes; wonders where coat is.
5:34 pm
Child remembers something terribly important but completely unrelated to gymnastics.
Mother retrieves item because she is afraid child will forget to return to car with item.
5:55 pm
Mother and child arrive at destination.
Mother eats cold dinner without chewing.
Child announces need to use the restroom.

The pièce de résistance of this evening was the drive home. My child implored me to hurry home. When I inquired as to why she said she had this terrible thought: what if the car broke down and then when I got out to wave down a car to see if someone had jumper cables, what if I got squished by a car? And then when she asked that person to take her home that person couldn’t because she didn’t know our address. Yes, my child’s biggest concern was that she would be unable to get the rest of the way home. Never mind that this imaginary stranger squished her mother like a bug and was taking her with them. Apparently nagging your child for half an hour straight doesn’t win you the most special place in her heart.