I loaded up my van tonight at about 6:45 with five seventh grade boys. We headed out to pick up one eighth grader who had forgotten to tell his mom that he needed a ride. He was punished by the other boys by being forced to sit center back, also known as the squeezy seat. We were headed to a teen center type place that had opened recently to celebrate JD's 13th birthday.
The van was filled with the sounds of all the boys trying to gossip over each other. I heard about the boy from their school who is in trouble with the law, a girl whose birthday was celebrated by the entire cafeteria, how one of the boys had wormed his way into the Senior's year book pictures, and a shouting match about who was better- seventh or eighth graders. "Seniors," won.
Even though it's early March, it was raining quite hard and was fairly warm out and with all that talking and breathing going on, my windows were quickly fogged up. I cranked up the defrost in an effort to see where I was going. Where WAS I going? "By the way Mom, you know the 3Mile Project isn't actually on 3 Mile?"
"No, I didn't actually know that. Well we'll find it I guess. Your dad found it a few weeks ago." I slowed down to take the exit my husband had told me to take and peered out the still fogged windows. "Boys, you're just going to have to stop breathing; I can't see." No reply, not even a chuckle. I felt the skin on my face blister and start to peel from the heat of the defroster, so I rolled down the windows.
I turned onto 3 Mile Rd and saw a long line of cars waiting to turn left at the first street. "Is that it JD? It must be with all the cars."
"No, it was further on. Plus, there's semis in that line, why would they be there?"
"Because the place is a rehabbed warehouse and there are probably other warehouses on the street," I think, but don't say. What I do say is, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure." There was general agreement from the other boy who had gone before.
We drove on a bit until we came to a light. "It's either down here or this is the street it wasn't on and we had to turn around."
"How far do I go before I quit," I ask.
"Far. Oh wait, not far. Where's the Cheese Kurlz factory? Oh there's the bridge we saw before when we realized this was the wrong road and turned around."
I turn around.
"It must be this next one," my darling son said. I was soon going to hate those words. We drove down every street along that mile stretch of road, finally coming out on another road several miles back towards my house. I had started calling my husband back at the first wrong turn, but I got no answer. Later he told me that I only called three times, but I would have sworn I call every three minutes. Finally I called my sister. With the power of Google, she could help me from Minnesota.
The boys had looked on their registration forms and found the name of the road, but we just couldn't seem to find it. I was driving hunched forward over the steering wheel trying to see, eyes dried and face flaming from the heat, and ears pierced from the noise. "Look at the road signs boys, Aunt Christi says it's past Bristol." Bristol, by the way was that first wrong road we had gone down, the road we wanted was before that one, or now that we'd gone so far, past it.
"There it is! I told you it would be the next street!" Well, with a prediction like that, a kid has to be right eventually. "Turn left."
I turn left and go maybe two tenths of a mile. "Look around geniuses! What do you see!? I believe we should have turned right back there, not left." I head back to 3 Mile to cross to the other side.
We pulled up to the intersection and I looked across the street. What do you know, we were right back where I had seen all the cars and thought we should probably turn way back 15 minutes before. What are the odds that my son will change his know-it-all ways?
Friday, March 4, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Whatcha Shoulda Done Is...
My family and I are going to Orlando in a few weeks. We plan to go to Universal Studios to see Harry Potter World, to Downtown Disney to see Cirque du Soleil and to Boma at Animal Kingdom Lodge for dinner. Right now, many of you are thinking, "Oh, what you really need to do while you're there is..." And I'm more or less fine with that. My friends Charlotte and Sue, for example, have given me many great suggestions over the years that have made my vacations awesome.
What's really going to drive me crazy is what's going to happen after I purchase the Cirque tickets or choose my day to go to HP World, or even when I tell about my trip after I get back. That's when someone, or in reality, several someones, are going to say, "Oh, that's great! What you should have done though is.... then you would have really gotten a great deal, had a great time, whatever."
What IS UP with that?! What good does your information do me now except to make my experience seem less great that I had been thinking it was right before you said that?! It's not like I can take your advice for "next time." There is no next time! These are the kinds of trips and activities you do once. (Except, this is going to be my third dinner and Boma. I never thought I'd be the kind of person who has a favorite Orlando restaurant, but that's a different post.)
The same thing happens after you make a big purchase decision. Inevitably someone will say, "Oh, did you know you could have gotten that Apple computer for less if you had worked angle blah blah blah?" Or, you comment that you really enjoyed the show you saw in Chicago and someone says, "I've heard that's a great show, but you really should have made time for..."
"You paid how much for those plane tickets? You could get a great deal if you went to 'Imsuchabetterdealfinderthanyou.com."
"Skiing at Boyne last weekend? Did you know you could have used Shell Gas coupons and skied for free?"
"Huh. You paid XYZ for your replacement windows? My neighbor got his from Window Huckster for only PDQ."
Actually, it's not limited to big purchases. Have you ever bought new shoes only to be told how there was a great sale on them at some store other than where you bought them? Does the person really think that this is helpful? Does she really expect that you're going to take back the pair of shoes that you got for $40 and then go buy them somewhere else for $30? My time is worth more than $10 an hour! (Although, not according to the Gov. of WI and Fox News pundits, but again, I'm dipping into other posts.) I was enjoying my shoes plenty, no matter how much I spent on them, thank you very much. Now that you've opened your big mouth I can no longer enjoy my shoes; instead, I have to devote my energies to deciding whether or not I should take them back and go get a better deal, or should I just sulk over my inability to get a good deal in the first place?!
I'm starting to feel that this isn't really about you helping me at all. It's about me helping you feel like a smarter/better/cooler person, whether I want to help you with that or not. That's really what this is, isn't it? Not that most people would admit it, but we all feel like losers to some extent. We second guess ourselves and doubt our own worth. The quickest and easiest way to feel less like a loser is to at least be less of a loser than someone else. It's such a hard drug to avoid isn't it?
What's really going to drive me crazy is what's going to happen after I purchase the Cirque tickets or choose my day to go to HP World, or even when I tell about my trip after I get back. That's when someone, or in reality, several someones, are going to say, "Oh, that's great! What you should have done though is.... then you would have really gotten a great deal, had a great time, whatever."
What IS UP with that?! What good does your information do me now except to make my experience seem less great that I had been thinking it was right before you said that?! It's not like I can take your advice for "next time." There is no next time! These are the kinds of trips and activities you do once. (Except, this is going to be my third dinner and Boma. I never thought I'd be the kind of person who has a favorite Orlando restaurant, but that's a different post.)
The same thing happens after you make a big purchase decision. Inevitably someone will say, "Oh, did you know you could have gotten that Apple computer for less if you had worked angle blah blah blah?" Or, you comment that you really enjoyed the show you saw in Chicago and someone says, "I've heard that's a great show, but you really should have made time for..."
"You paid how much for those plane tickets? You could get a great deal if you went to 'Imsuchabetterdealfinderthanyou.com."
"Skiing at Boyne last weekend? Did you know you could have used Shell Gas coupons and skied for free?"
"Huh. You paid XYZ for your replacement windows? My neighbor got his from Window Huckster for only PDQ."
Actually, it's not limited to big purchases. Have you ever bought new shoes only to be told how there was a great sale on them at some store other than where you bought them? Does the person really think that this is helpful? Does she really expect that you're going to take back the pair of shoes that you got for $40 and then go buy them somewhere else for $30? My time is worth more than $10 an hour! (Although, not according to the Gov. of WI and Fox News pundits, but again, I'm dipping into other posts.) I was enjoying my shoes plenty, no matter how much I spent on them, thank you very much. Now that you've opened your big mouth I can no longer enjoy my shoes; instead, I have to devote my energies to deciding whether or not I should take them back and go get a better deal, or should I just sulk over my inability to get a good deal in the first place?!
I'm starting to feel that this isn't really about you helping me at all. It's about me helping you feel like a smarter/better/cooler person, whether I want to help you with that or not. That's really what this is, isn't it? Not that most people would admit it, but we all feel like losers to some extent. We second guess ourselves and doubt our own worth. The quickest and easiest way to feel less like a loser is to at least be less of a loser than someone else. It's such a hard drug to avoid isn't it?
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Gifts
It's still a month to my birthday, but my husband is a bit of an impulse shopper, so I already have my present. I got a new composter.
No, this is not going to be a post about lame-brained husbands and their idiotic gifts. I was actually thrilled. I already have a composter, but there are many things that I don't like about it. It's ugly; it's too tall for the kids to really get the scraps into, it's rusty and falling apart; it's taller than my fence and my neighbor has to look at it. I've had it for a long time and I've wanted a new one almost since I got this one. I couldn't ever get a new one though because there was nothing really wrong with the one I had. I'm against replacing perfectly usable items, especially when there's nothing to be done with it except use it to increase the size of an already too large landfill.
Russ' gift wasn't really the composter, it was freedom from guilt. I don't have to feel bad about getting rid of the ugly composter and putting in the low profile new composter. I don't have to feel bad about spending money to get something that I don't really need. I don't even have to feel guilty about the fate of the old composter; Russ already told me that the old composter had to go and that I'm not allowed to try and turn it into planter or some other form of repurposing.
The reason that this perfectly practical gift is a joy and not a curse is because it has what all good gifts have, deep knowledge by the giver of the receiver. My husband knows me. He knows that I would not go out and buy a composter when the one we have is fine, even with a hole. He knows this because I won't go out and buy new laundry baskets even though the ones I have have broken handles. I can't get rid of them because where would they go?! My husband knows that what I really need for my birthday is a break from guilt and always trying to do the right thing. Knowing that he knows what's important to me and knowing that he knows what makes me tick, makes me feel as loved as any fancy, frilly, romantic gift.
The only tiny sadness to the gift was that I had planned to ask for a new storm door for the front door. Oh well, Mother's Day is not too long after my birthday.
No, this is not going to be a post about lame-brained husbands and their idiotic gifts. I was actually thrilled. I already have a composter, but there are many things that I don't like about it. It's ugly; it's too tall for the kids to really get the scraps into, it's rusty and falling apart; it's taller than my fence and my neighbor has to look at it. I've had it for a long time and I've wanted a new one almost since I got this one. I couldn't ever get a new one though because there was nothing really wrong with the one I had. I'm against replacing perfectly usable items, especially when there's nothing to be done with it except use it to increase the size of an already too large landfill.
Russ' gift wasn't really the composter, it was freedom from guilt. I don't have to feel bad about getting rid of the ugly composter and putting in the low profile new composter. I don't have to feel bad about spending money to get something that I don't really need. I don't even have to feel guilty about the fate of the old composter; Russ already told me that the old composter had to go and that I'm not allowed to try and turn it into planter or some other form of repurposing.
The reason that this perfectly practical gift is a joy and not a curse is because it has what all good gifts have, deep knowledge by the giver of the receiver. My husband knows me. He knows that I would not go out and buy a composter when the one we have is fine, even with a hole. He knows this because I won't go out and buy new laundry baskets even though the ones I have have broken handles. I can't get rid of them because where would they go?! My husband knows that what I really need for my birthday is a break from guilt and always trying to do the right thing. Knowing that he knows what's important to me and knowing that he knows what makes me tick, makes me feel as loved as any fancy, frilly, romantic gift.
The only tiny sadness to the gift was that I had planned to ask for a new storm door for the front door. Oh well, Mother's Day is not too long after my birthday.
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