My husband took my youngest to ride rides at Carowinds for a few hours. Said they'd be home by 1. At 11 or so, he called and said his keys had fallen out of his pocket on a ride and they couldn't sweep looking for lost things till they closed. I'd need to find his extra key and bring it down and there was no guarantee that it would work anyway (he's had a hard time with his spare key before).
So I went into his drawer and grabbed the Volvo key that I saw along with mine and my eldest's Carowinds passes (so I could get in without paying to park) and left. It's about 30 minutes to there. On the way down, there was a torrential downpour and I almost hydroplaned on the interstate.
I got to Carowinds and handed the attendant my son's gold season pass (gold pays for your parking; mine is silver because I hardly ever go). The guy scanned the card and looked in the car and said, "Is he with you?" And I said, "No," (clearly he wasn't), "But here's what happened. My husband lost his keys on the Borg and I just came down here to give him another key. Here's my pass, the one you have is my son's. Trust me, I had no intention of coming to Carowinds today and I'm not trying to pull anything over on you. I just want to find my husband's car in the parking lot." The guy said, "I want to help you, so you can pull out here, turn left and park in guest parking. You'll then need to cross the pedestrian bridge and give the key to the worker over there." As if. So I paid $10 to park and pointed out that with all the money we've given them over the years, they should be thanking me and not making me pay when I'm not going into a park that I don't want to be at and really don't even care for. He gave me my receipt and said brightly, "Have a great day."
I went down every aisle of the parking lot and finally found his car. I parked my own a few down (people were leaving because of the rain), got out with the key and went to open it. It didn't work. That's when I got a little nervous and walked over to my own car and pushed the button and it instantly unlocked the door to MY Volvo. Uh. Oops. With a feeling of doom, I walked to the gate to look for the two of them, debating whether I should try and go all the way in or not.
I finally saw them coming out and was gearing up to confess my huge mistake when I realized that he had keys in his hand! Turns out that because of the rain, the only ride they closed was that one, which meant the attendants could do their sweep and found his keys and key fob (which had all imploded). We walked over to the cars, he tried it all out to be sure it worked.
I gave him my parking receipt so he could demand a refund from within at Guest Relations and then I left them to ride more rides in the rain.
Good times.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Just for you, Marianne
I'm clearly a very sporadic blogger. Here's this year's blog post.
Filled with excitement for our high school's big ribbon cutting event last night, my family and I headed to the Egg in Davidson for dinner first. We figured that, since we were asked to park away from school and walk, we'd just eat, leave our cars and go to the school. Very sad to find that the Egg is no longer open for dinner. Bummer. So we headed for the high school (knowing they were grilling hot dogs there and had ice cream), my 15-year- old was booking it, walking around 200 yards in front of us, his brother ahead of us, too and then the two of us taking up the rear.
We turned down the street when suddenly, my foot felt, well, weird. And wet. And gross. I looked down and saw that there was some sort of poop thing on my toes; and because we were out (in the wild!) and had nothing with us, I picked up a leaf and wiped my toes off. All was well, except my hand was kind of wet feeling, so I wiped my hand on the back of my shirt; realizing as I was doing it that my hand might not be clean.
As we kept walking, I got a bit in front of my husband, when he said, "My G-d, Jennifer (not Jen, which denotes irritation on his part), what did you do to your shirt? And something smells bad, too." So I turned to him and whined, "Well, what am I supposed to do now?" He pointed out that the sports boosters would be selling spirit wear, so I could probably find something there.
We got to school, where a crowd of around 500 was gathering. I ran up to the booster's booth and asked a friend if I could grab a shirt, noting that I had no cash, but was good for it. She said it was fine and I ran inside, where the air was blissfully cooling things off.
I got another friend to help me pick out a shirt and we found one that was cute. There was a stack of mediums and one large and I really would have preferred an XL. I took the shirt and went to the bathroom, where I stripped off the dirty shirt and, without thinking, turned on the sink and started scrubbing out the spot with soap & water. It was then that I realized I hadn't yet tried on the shirt. Oops. I looked at the shirt, scared it wasn't going to fit and did what all respectable women do when they are sure a shirt won't fit: Put my hands inside and stretched like crazy! I put it on and it fit well enough.
I thought all was well and went outside to join my husband, who was talking to another couple. As we were chatting, she pointed out that she liked my sandals. I thanked her as I looked down at my feet to tell her where I got them, when I noticed that my toes were brown and, yes, a bit poopy still. I looked at them and said, "Uh...I think I need to go back to the bathroom now," and bolted back inside, where I basically gave my foot a bath in the sink.
I'm realizing as I've been typing right now that out of 5 or 6 blog posts in the past 3 or 4 years, this is my 2nd post about poop. Says a lot about what I find interesting in my life.
Filled with excitement for our high school's big ribbon cutting event last night, my family and I headed to the Egg in Davidson for dinner first. We figured that, since we were asked to park away from school and walk, we'd just eat, leave our cars and go to the school. Very sad to find that the Egg is no longer open for dinner. Bummer. So we headed for the high school (knowing they were grilling hot dogs there and had ice cream), my 15-year- old was booking it, walking around 200 yards in front of us, his brother ahead of us, too and then the two of us taking up the rear.
We turned down the street when suddenly, my foot felt, well, weird. And wet. And gross. I looked down and saw that there was some sort of poop thing on my toes; and because we were out (in the wild!) and had nothing with us, I picked up a leaf and wiped my toes off. All was well, except my hand was kind of wet feeling, so I wiped my hand on the back of my shirt; realizing as I was doing it that my hand might not be clean.
As we kept walking, I got a bit in front of my husband, when he said, "My G-d, Jennifer (not Jen, which denotes irritation on his part), what did you do to your shirt? And something smells bad, too." So I turned to him and whined, "Well, what am I supposed to do now?" He pointed out that the sports boosters would be selling spirit wear, so I could probably find something there.
We got to school, where a crowd of around 500 was gathering. I ran up to the booster's booth and asked a friend if I could grab a shirt, noting that I had no cash, but was good for it. She said it was fine and I ran inside, where the air was blissfully cooling things off.
I got another friend to help me pick out a shirt and we found one that was cute. There was a stack of mediums and one large and I really would have preferred an XL. I took the shirt and went to the bathroom, where I stripped off the dirty shirt and, without thinking, turned on the sink and started scrubbing out the spot with soap & water. It was then that I realized I hadn't yet tried on the shirt. Oops. I looked at the shirt, scared it wasn't going to fit and did what all respectable women do when they are sure a shirt won't fit: Put my hands inside and stretched like crazy! I put it on and it fit well enough.
I thought all was well and went outside to join my husband, who was talking to another couple. As we were chatting, she pointed out that she liked my sandals. I thanked her as I looked down at my feet to tell her where I got them, when I noticed that my toes were brown and, yes, a bit poopy still. I looked at them and said, "Uh...I think I need to go back to the bathroom now," and bolted back inside, where I basically gave my foot a bath in the sink.
I'm realizing as I've been typing right now that out of 5 or 6 blog posts in the past 3 or 4 years, this is my 2nd post about poop. Says a lot about what I find interesting in my life.
Friday, June 19, 2009
RIP, Reebok (4/5/92-6/19/09)
We got Reebok in May of 1992. We'd been married around 6 months and decided it was time. We found him listed in a newspaper ad and drove over to the woman's house, where we chose the smallest of the litter of "purebred dachshunds." We had no idea what to name him. As we drove home, I kept throwing names around: "Mozart?" (the movie "Beethoven" was popular at the time). I looked down at him in my lap and as I looked at the swoosh on my sneaker, I said, "Nike? No...Adidas?" I thought I was funny. I said, "Reebok?" and we both agreed that it totally fit him and that became his name. He was unique looking, with a long black "skunk stripe" down his back, but he had floppy dachshund ears and was cute as can be.
Several weeks later, there was a thunderstorm in Savannah and it was loud. Reebok's cute floppy ears suddenly popped straight up at the crack of thunder, and they stayed that way! A couple of my co-workers at Oldies 98.3, who'd had dachshunds, assured me that that was a normal thing to have happen to dachshund ears and he'd be fine. That is, until I brought him into the station to let them meet him. We were met with laughter and "Uhhh, no, sorry, those ears aren't going anywhere. I've never seen anything like that!" At the vet's office not long after, we ran into the breeder, who was stunned to see him and asked us to give him back. "No way!" I said. Instead, she gave us back our still uncashed check and he became our free dog. Near as we can tell, as his hair grew long and more Yorkie like, his mother had been a bit of a floozie and may have had a little side game going with a Yorkie in addition to the dachshund she'd been matched up with.
Reebok was a great friend and companion and like most young couples with a dog, became our "first child." He was happy with life, at least until "the intruders" came along. The first one in 1995, the second in 1998 and later, in 2007, a canine one. Still, he was a great member of our household for the past 17 years and making the decision to put him down was difficult, but watching him walking, blind, into walls all day long, knowing his quality of life was very low makes it clear that it was the right choice to make and it was time. No world record breaking 21 years for this guy, but he gave it a good run!
He had a super breakfast this morning of many of his favorite foods: scrambled eggs, cheese, bacon and a tiny little cup of milk.
At the vet's office, the kennel ladies all came to say goodbye to him and then it was time. It was quick and he went peacefully. Still, we'll all miss him terribly. And it's going to be really weird getting used to saying, "I have one dog" again. I imagine he's off romping with all his friends from over the years by now and in a happy place.
Several weeks later, there was a thunderstorm in Savannah and it was loud. Reebok's cute floppy ears suddenly popped straight up at the crack of thunder, and they stayed that way! A couple of my co-workers at Oldies 98.3, who'd had dachshunds, assured me that that was a normal thing to have happen to dachshund ears and he'd be fine. That is, until I brought him into the station to let them meet him. We were met with laughter and "Uhhh, no, sorry, those ears aren't going anywhere. I've never seen anything like that!" At the vet's office not long after, we ran into the breeder, who was stunned to see him and asked us to give him back. "No way!" I said. Instead, she gave us back our still uncashed check and he became our free dog. Near as we can tell, as his hair grew long and more Yorkie like, his mother had been a bit of a floozie and may have had a little side game going with a Yorkie in addition to the dachshund she'd been matched up with.
Reebok was a great friend and companion and like most young couples with a dog, became our "first child." He was happy with life, at least until "the intruders" came along. The first one in 1995, the second in 1998 and later, in 2007, a canine one. Still, he was a great member of our household for the past 17 years and making the decision to put him down was difficult, but watching him walking, blind, into walls all day long, knowing his quality of life was very low makes it clear that it was the right choice to make and it was time. No world record breaking 21 years for this guy, but he gave it a good run!
He had a super breakfast this morning of many of his favorite foods: scrambled eggs, cheese, bacon and a tiny little cup of milk.At the vet's office, the kennel ladies all came to say goodbye to him and then it was time. It was quick and he went peacefully. Still, we'll all miss him terribly. And it's going to be really weird getting used to saying, "I have one dog" again. I imagine he's off romping with all his friends from over the years by now and in a happy place.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Taking Friendship To the Next Level
My day started with the utmost in embarrassing situations. At 8:50, I was sitting in our school's little theater, strumming my guitar, as families came in to get ready for their first graders' performance, at which I was going to accompany them on two songs. As I was sitting there, I kept smelling something awful. "What IS that?" I mumbled and started looking around for the source. I looked down and noticed a piece of pine straw stuck to the bottom of my sandal. I had a sense for what the smell was then, but checked anyway and sure enough, I'd stepped in poop. I was thinking dog poop, but realized that I hadn't smelled it in the car, so it must have happened once at school, so it may have been goose poop.
Either way, there I was, minutes before a performance and not sure what to do. So I ran out to get outside quickly. At the same time, my son came barreling out of his Art classroom upset because he'd gotten ink on his shorts. "So?" I said in my most mature mom voice, "I have poo on my shoe!" As I got to the door, I heard him tell his class the exciting news.
I got some paper towel, tried to scrub it off, dunked it in a puddle outside for a minute, and then just left them sitting outside as I walked back in, barefoot. My friend was doing some work in the hall and I told her what had happened and she said she'd clean them. I told her that she really didn't need to do that.
I felt like the epitome of professionalism as I walked back into the theater with nothing on my feet. I even heard a younger sibling point out to her mom that "that lady had no shoes." Thankfully, the play was about the rain forest and taking care of our planet, so I was just being "earthy" and fit right in!
After the show had ended, I went back out to take care of my shoes, when my friend told me that my shoes were all clean and sitting right at the door to the theater. I was blown away. To me, that qualified as a really good friend thing to do. In my mind, I'm not sure I'd do that for another person, but my sister assured me that I would if I felt like that person was in a bind. Maybe, but it made me think of the old Seinfeld episode about new friendship with Keith Hernandez. "What? He asked you to help him move?? You just met the guy!" So thank you, Chris!
Oh, not sure if there's much more tear inducing than a bunch of first graders singing "What a Wonderful World," unless it's a bunch of first graders singing "What a Wonderful World" while they sign it. Great stuff!
Either way, there I was, minutes before a performance and not sure what to do. So I ran out to get outside quickly. At the same time, my son came barreling out of his Art classroom upset because he'd gotten ink on his shorts. "So?" I said in my most mature mom voice, "I have poo on my shoe!" As I got to the door, I heard him tell his class the exciting news.
I got some paper towel, tried to scrub it off, dunked it in a puddle outside for a minute, and then just left them sitting outside as I walked back in, barefoot. My friend was doing some work in the hall and I told her what had happened and she said she'd clean them. I told her that she really didn't need to do that.
I felt like the epitome of professionalism as I walked back into the theater with nothing on my feet. I even heard a younger sibling point out to her mom that "that lady had no shoes." Thankfully, the play was about the rain forest and taking care of our planet, so I was just being "earthy" and fit right in!
After the show had ended, I went back out to take care of my shoes, when my friend told me that my shoes were all clean and sitting right at the door to the theater. I was blown away. To me, that qualified as a really good friend thing to do. In my mind, I'm not sure I'd do that for another person, but my sister assured me that I would if I felt like that person was in a bind. Maybe, but it made me think of the old Seinfeld episode about new friendship with Keith Hernandez. "What? He asked you to help him move?? You just met the guy!" So thank you, Chris!
Oh, not sure if there's much more tear inducing than a bunch of first graders singing "What a Wonderful World," unless it's a bunch of first graders singing "What a Wonderful World" while they sign it. Great stuff!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I never did figure out how to get the picture of the giant beetle to show up in my other post, and it's been months, so I should probably give it up.
School has started, and is already at the end of the first trimester. Time, as always, is flying by. I feel like I always have great stories to share, but they never seem to materialize when I want to journal, or as the kids say, blog, so I don't.
But tomorrow, my husband and I will take off for an anniversary trip to NYC and to see "Wicked." I'm very excited and at the same time terrified that something awful will happen and the will we put together last spring will have to be activated. I'm satisfied with the choices we made for caretakes and all that, but I can't even express how awful it feels to think of the kids losing their parents, being uprooted and moved into a new house, new school, new life all at the same time. I've convinced myself that if I allow myself to perseverate over this horrible thought, that it is like willing myself to coming home safe and sound on Sunday.
It didn't really occur to me at any point today that tomorrow it will have been 16 years since we got married. That day is so clear in my memory, how can it have been so long ago? And where has the time gone, anyway? But more importantly, how can I have seen the date, October 25th, so many times today and not made the connection that tomorrow, the 26th, is our anniversary? I always remember significant number dates.
Regardless, I was standing in his office an hour ago and saw a card sitting on the chair with my name on it which brought the horrible realization that I didn't have a card for him! As I was trying to figure out how to explain running out in the pouring rain (sorely needed here!), at 9:10 at night, he asked if we had anything for dinner. So I happily volunteered to go get him something, saying I had to run to Target to get socks for our trip. He looked at me and said, "You didn't get me a card did you?" I denied of course, then went rummaging through the cards I've bought over the years and never sent, hoping there was an anniversary one, but no...Congratulations on Getting Your New Dog, First Communion, Sorry for your Loss and Thank You cards, yes. But anniversary? No. In the end, I handwrote a lovely note on stationary, stuck in an envelope and hid for him to find in the morning. Always the romantic...
School has started, and is already at the end of the first trimester. Time, as always, is flying by. I feel like I always have great stories to share, but they never seem to materialize when I want to journal, or as the kids say, blog, so I don't.
But tomorrow, my husband and I will take off for an anniversary trip to NYC and to see "Wicked." I'm very excited and at the same time terrified that something awful will happen and the will we put together last spring will have to be activated. I'm satisfied with the choices we made for caretakes and all that, but I can't even express how awful it feels to think of the kids losing their parents, being uprooted and moved into a new house, new school, new life all at the same time. I've convinced myself that if I allow myself to perseverate over this horrible thought, that it is like willing myself to coming home safe and sound on Sunday.
It didn't really occur to me at any point today that tomorrow it will have been 16 years since we got married. That day is so clear in my memory, how can it have been so long ago? And where has the time gone, anyway? But more importantly, how can I have seen the date, October 25th, so many times today and not made the connection that tomorrow, the 26th, is our anniversary? I always remember significant number dates.
Regardless, I was standing in his office an hour ago and saw a card sitting on the chair with my name on it which brought the horrible realization that I didn't have a card for him! As I was trying to figure out how to explain running out in the pouring rain (sorely needed here!), at 9:10 at night, he asked if we had anything for dinner. So I happily volunteered to go get him something, saying I had to run to Target to get socks for our trip. He looked at me and said, "You didn't get me a card did you?" I denied of course, then went rummaging through the cards I've bought over the years and never sent, hoping there was an anniversary one, but no...Congratulations on Getting Your New Dog, First Communion, Sorry for your Loss and Thank You cards, yes. But anniversary? No. In the end, I handwrote a lovely note on stationary, stuck in an envelope and hid for him to find in the morning. Always the romantic...
Monday, July 16, 2007
What Have I Done?
Why have I just created a blog? I hadn't been planning to, I don't think of myself as particularly witty and I feel a bit odd doing so. But lots of things do happen to us, and someone somewhere might be interested. Just tonight, we saw the biggest bug I've ever seen.
I was told by a teenage boy who is obviously a lot smarter than I am that it was a rhinoceros beetle, which does sound a bit more scientific than "That was a HUGE beetle, and it flew right.over.my.head!" And I wasn't the only one impressed....adults from all over the pool area came by to check it out. Just another night of excitement in the suburbs, I guess.
What else? I have a husband and two boys. Do I call them by their names, give them pseudonyms? I haven't decided. This may be my one and only blog post. Or, it may become something I do quite regularly. The real reason I joined the blogging bandwagon, though, in a nutshell (get it? I threw in a clever use of my new blog's title), is that I'm trying to figure out how to get my 9-year-old's podcast online so the masses can hear how adorable and smart he, his brother and their friends are.
I was told by a teenage boy who is obviously a lot smarter than I am that it was a rhinoceros beetle, which does sound a bit more scientific than "That was a HUGE beetle, and it flew right.over.my.head!" And I wasn't the only one impressed....adults from all over the pool area came by to check it out. Just another night of excitement in the suburbs, I guess.
What else? I have a husband and two boys. Do I call them by their names, give them pseudonyms? I haven't decided. This may be my one and only blog post. Or, it may become something I do quite regularly. The real reason I joined the blogging bandwagon, though, in a nutshell (get it? I threw in a clever use of my new blog's title), is that I'm trying to figure out how to get my 9-year-old's podcast online so the masses can hear how adorable and smart he, his brother and their friends are.
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