So I made this deal with myself.
“Self,” I said – because when I talk to myself I seldom call myself Cindy. “Self, we are going through a bit of a tough stretch. We need an attitude adjustment. Maybe a motto would do the trick.
Since I fancy that I have a wry sense of humor, Self suggested: “Non illegitimi carborundum” or “don’t let the bastards get you down.”
With motto in place, I made it through Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday with relative ease. As it turns out, it’s not the bastards I need to worry about the most.
On Thursday, I wanted to get to work by 7 a.m. because I had an 8:30 meeting for which I was not really prepared.
My routine is to get up before the Ump, let the dogs out, prepare their food (which usually entails reheating or cooking a little something to top off their dry dog food), take a shower, get the Ump up and into the shower, fix his breakfast, lay out his clothes, get dressed, clean up breakfast dishes, give the dogs a good-bye Milk Bone and hit the road.
The Ump usually leaves when I am getting dressed.
On this particular day I had not slept well the night before, so I was a little grouchy and foggy-brained.
Of course, the Ump got up out of sequence and got into the shower before me which always throws me off. As I was taking Peanut’s food to him (he eats in our bedroom away from the big dogs), the Ump opened the bathroom door and said “What am I wearing today?” in a cheery tone which immediately made my hackles rise.
I pushed down the sarcasm gurgling in my throat and grabbed his pants and shirt, socks and handkerchief along with his belt and threw the ensemble on the bed. I headed for the shower to soak my head.
It’s not like he makes me choose his clothes. I started doing that as soon as we were married. His students called him Mr. Wrinkle. I couldn’t have that!
I blew my hair as dry as I could, threw on my own clothes and headed for the door. No time for breakfast, but I did throw a can of Diet Dr. Pepper in my purse for later consumption.
With my arms full, I headed for the door. For some reason my husband, as he was munching on the breakfast sandwich I made him, looked out the French doors and noticed that his windshield was covered with frost. “Would you roll the truck back into the driveway and turn on the defroster?” he said.
I know my mouth dropped open when I turned to look at him. “You forgot to take your medicine,” he said innocently, ignoring the flush of red burning across my face. I slammed my folder down on the counter, dropped my purse on the floor and swallowed my morning pills without any water.
I grabbed everything and stomped off to my car, throwing my stuff inside and starting it up. Then I headed for his truck. It was very cold that morning after an evening of weird snowfall. I could not get the door of the truck open. It was frozen stuck.
In my frame of mind - if I had not been running around trying to get to work early - I would have probably used a blow torch before I went back into the house to tell him that I couldn’t get into the truck.
Having already indulged in a spurt of temper, I reined it back in and told him he would have to get his truck started by himself and I got in my car and took off, gravels spurting from my tires as I sped down the driveway.
The clock read 6:54. At 6:59, I pulled into parking lot at the office. It was another five minutes before I was able to enter the building, however, because when I reached over to get my purse, I discovered a puddle of something on the seat that seemed to be coming from my purse.
When I indulged the devil on my shoulder and let my temper flare, a pen in my purse apparently speared the can of Diet Dr. Pepper, loosing its liquid throughout my beloved Brighton bag.
All I could do was turn it upside down and catch the soggy items as they rained out onto the lot. I gathered it up, went inside and stopped by the restroom to get a handful of paper towel. Once at my desk I dried off the purse (which actually fared rather well) and then started drying off the soaked stuff.
Other than the crippling blow to my pride, there was a fatality. Apparently Diet Dr. Pepper’s lack of sugar does not make it any less lethal to a cell phone. I dried it off and let it sit on my desk for awhile before trying to start it. When I pressed the button it shivered on vibrate, made a strange noise, took a picture of the other chair my cube and croaked.
I took a deep breath and sent the Ump an email telling him what happened when I let my temper get the best of me. He sent me back a very nice email instructing me to take a deep breath and relax. He’s been telling me that a lot lately.
So, armed with a motto and breathing therapy, I made it through Friday and had a good weekend - until Sunday when the Ump and I joined forces to assembly a 6-foot bookshelf. This odyssey nearly sent us to marriage counseling – but that is another story.
Until then remember: Non illegitimi carborundum.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Not an eclipse, a gallant
I was driving to work one day last week feeling particularly small.
Not my ego, mind you, though it has taken a significant blow during recent weeks and probably could use a shot or two of helium.
No, I’m referring to my step-daughter’s car which I was driving. She has a Mitsubishi Gallant. It is actually a very nice car. Attractive and peppy (much like Olivia), the Gray Ghost is a nice ride.
I feel small because the Gray Ghost is a low riding vehicle. I felt like I was sliding along on the street. It seemed as if I was eyeball to hubcap with the parade of SUVs and trucks on the road.
Most of you know that my Pacifica is my baby. The Countess (she is quite regal) is spacious. I could start a Victory Garden in the way-back (you know, the area behind the second row of seats).
The Countess has three rows of seats and loads of extras including five airbags. She is the queen of all the vehicles I have ever owned. My record is VW Beetle, Ford Escort Station Wagon, Chevrolet Corsica, Geo Tracker, Chevy Blazer, Jeep Cherokee, Jeep Liberty and the Pacifica.
The Blazer belonged to my Dad. When I bought it off him, he bought the Tracker from me and kept it for awhile. My cousin drove it for awhile and then the Ump and I bought it back from Dad for Olivia.
It was as safe as riding in a Coke can. It had a leather convertible top which meant that it was even more vulnerable to the elements and thieves than most cars. But it was such a fun little car to zip around in. It was perfect for sunny summer days that weren’t too hot.
I thought it looked a bit like a roller coaster car that jumped the track. O and her friends called it the roller skate.
We both survived driving probably the most dangerous car on the highway since the AMC Gremlin. I can’t imagine how it would have fared in one of the crash test dummy tests. Even the dummies probably would have refused to get in.
Oh yeah, back to driving to work feeling like a kid in a pedal car. O had my car because we had to do a little work on her car. I was listening to NPR like I always do in the mornings, but it was one of those mornings where the story was just not something I was interested in. So many of their stories are fascinating, but now and then they explore some part of the world I just don’t care to visit.
So I decided to see what O had in her car’s CD player.
She is 24, by the way, so you might think it would be Justin Timberlake or Kenny Chesney – someone with a current CD playing on the radio.
The music that swirled out of her stereo, however, was a one-way ticket to memory lane for me. Boogie Wonderland, September Song, Do the Hustle, Hooked on Beethoven, one after the other came the songs that were popular in my last year of high school and while I was in college. Some of them were probably playing on the radio when I was 24.
It was great. I enjoyed that CD for days.
And it really did not surprise me. O’s musical tastes range from classical to hip hop, Judy Garland to George Strait. I’m not sure there is a genre she just plain doesn’t like.
In that respect we are very much alike. My music collection goes from Mozart to Matchbox 20 to Manilow. She and I both enjoy reading pointless magazines like People and Us and we are natural peacemakers and concessionists who take the long road to avoid conflict.
The Ump and I got married in September, about a month after O went away to college so we got to know each other in bits and pieces as she came home on weekends and holidays and summers.
We were just talking about those early days and how there were a few rough spots (nothing Maury Povich would be interested in) but we had to learn about each other and come up with our own family dynamic.
On Saturday, the Ump and I drove to Roanoke for the great car exchange. One big difference between the two cars became evident on that trip as the wind battered bullied us down the interstate. O said the Countess didn’t budge.
Since we were meeting midway, I called my parents and my Aunt Ruthie to meet us at The Roanoker for an early dinner. O brought her boyfriend W (Webb, I don’t call him W yet. And I only refer to Olivia as O in print – like when we email - not in person.)
That dinner was the happiest thing that has happened to me in months. I’ve really weathered some storms lately and am feeling a little worse for the wear.
That hour and a half was simply precious. I was surrounded by people I love so dearly. O calls my parents Pop and OG (Other Grandmother) and they think she is the sweetest girl. Webb and my dad and the Ump talked sports like old friends. Just listening to my mom and Aunt Ruthie talk feels like home to me because the two of them have been so close all of my life.
No homemade dessert could have been as sweet as that gathering. Not that we could have eaten anything more after our dinners and O gave up sweets for Lent.
I hated to leave, but all good things seem to come to quick ends. Riding in the Countess on the way home, my phone rang. It was Mom. “Call Olivia and tell her you can see the lunar eclipse now.”
I called Olivia. She and Webb were in one of the malls.
I hung up and sat back in my seat and listened to the Eagles singing on the radio and watched the eclipse slowly fade and return the moon to her proper wattage.
And I thought about the crappy things that have happened recently. And I thought about how blessed I am to have such loving family and friends who keep me going - even when bad stuff seems to eclipse the good.
It is not always Boogie Wonderland, but it’s all good.
Not my ego, mind you, though it has taken a significant blow during recent weeks and probably could use a shot or two of helium.
No, I’m referring to my step-daughter’s car which I was driving. She has a Mitsubishi Gallant. It is actually a very nice car. Attractive and peppy (much like Olivia), the Gray Ghost is a nice ride.
I feel small because the Gray Ghost is a low riding vehicle. I felt like I was sliding along on the street. It seemed as if I was eyeball to hubcap with the parade of SUVs and trucks on the road.
Most of you know that my Pacifica is my baby. The Countess (she is quite regal) is spacious. I could start a Victory Garden in the way-back (you know, the area behind the second row of seats).
The Countess has three rows of seats and loads of extras including five airbags. She is the queen of all the vehicles I have ever owned. My record is VW Beetle, Ford Escort Station Wagon, Chevrolet Corsica, Geo Tracker, Chevy Blazer, Jeep Cherokee, Jeep Liberty and the Pacifica.
The Blazer belonged to my Dad. When I bought it off him, he bought the Tracker from me and kept it for awhile. My cousin drove it for awhile and then the Ump and I bought it back from Dad for Olivia.
It was as safe as riding in a Coke can. It had a leather convertible top which meant that it was even more vulnerable to the elements and thieves than most cars. But it was such a fun little car to zip around in. It was perfect for sunny summer days that weren’t too hot.
I thought it looked a bit like a roller coaster car that jumped the track. O and her friends called it the roller skate.
We both survived driving probably the most dangerous car on the highway since the AMC Gremlin. I can’t imagine how it would have fared in one of the crash test dummy tests. Even the dummies probably would have refused to get in.
Oh yeah, back to driving to work feeling like a kid in a pedal car. O had my car because we had to do a little work on her car. I was listening to NPR like I always do in the mornings, but it was one of those mornings where the story was just not something I was interested in. So many of their stories are fascinating, but now and then they explore some part of the world I just don’t care to visit.
So I decided to see what O had in her car’s CD player.
She is 24, by the way, so you might think it would be Justin Timberlake or Kenny Chesney – someone with a current CD playing on the radio.
The music that swirled out of her stereo, however, was a one-way ticket to memory lane for me. Boogie Wonderland, September Song, Do the Hustle, Hooked on Beethoven, one after the other came the songs that were popular in my last year of high school and while I was in college. Some of them were probably playing on the radio when I was 24.
It was great. I enjoyed that CD for days.
And it really did not surprise me. O’s musical tastes range from classical to hip hop, Judy Garland to George Strait. I’m not sure there is a genre she just plain doesn’t like.
In that respect we are very much alike. My music collection goes from Mozart to Matchbox 20 to Manilow. She and I both enjoy reading pointless magazines like People and Us and we are natural peacemakers and concessionists who take the long road to avoid conflict.
The Ump and I got married in September, about a month after O went away to college so we got to know each other in bits and pieces as she came home on weekends and holidays and summers.
We were just talking about those early days and how there were a few rough spots (nothing Maury Povich would be interested in) but we had to learn about each other and come up with our own family dynamic.
On Saturday, the Ump and I drove to Roanoke for the great car exchange. One big difference between the two cars became evident on that trip as the wind battered bullied us down the interstate. O said the Countess didn’t budge.
Since we were meeting midway, I called my parents and my Aunt Ruthie to meet us at The Roanoker for an early dinner. O brought her boyfriend W (Webb, I don’t call him W yet. And I only refer to Olivia as O in print – like when we email - not in person.)
That dinner was the happiest thing that has happened to me in months. I’ve really weathered some storms lately and am feeling a little worse for the wear.
That hour and a half was simply precious. I was surrounded by people I love so dearly. O calls my parents Pop and OG (Other Grandmother) and they think she is the sweetest girl. Webb and my dad and the Ump talked sports like old friends. Just listening to my mom and Aunt Ruthie talk feels like home to me because the two of them have been so close all of my life.
No homemade dessert could have been as sweet as that gathering. Not that we could have eaten anything more after our dinners and O gave up sweets for Lent.
I hated to leave, but all good things seem to come to quick ends. Riding in the Countess on the way home, my phone rang. It was Mom. “Call Olivia and tell her you can see the lunar eclipse now.”
I called Olivia. She and Webb were in one of the malls.
I hung up and sat back in my seat and listened to the Eagles singing on the radio and watched the eclipse slowly fade and return the moon to her proper wattage.
And I thought about the crappy things that have happened recently. And I thought about how blessed I am to have such loving family and friends who keep me going - even when bad stuff seems to eclipse the good.
It is not always Boogie Wonderland, but it’s all good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)