Captain Adherent and me

After three weeks I'm now finding it within myself to write about something that happened recently. Why did it take so long, you might ask? Because it has taken me this long to decide to swallow my pride and admit that when it comes to traffic violations in this family, it's me. It's always me. It's always been me. And I suppose, I'm finding, that it will always be me.

Now I will admit, I have not always been the best driver. I wasn't. I drove too fast. I swerved around like an old drunk man in my lane. I texted while driving. I ate a hamburger while talking on the phone and changing lanes in downtown traffic while speeding and trying to balance a open can of soda between my legs. I did not drive while drinking, but pretty much anything that you can legally do in the car even though it isn't a good idea - I did all that. I can't ever remember applying makeup in the car, but that probably happened too.

Fast forward to college when my now-husband and I start dating. Apparently at first he always volunteered to drive not because he was chivolrous, as I thought, but instead because he feared for our lives when I was driving. Because he was still trying to woo me (his word, not mine), it took him nearly two years to muster the courage to say anything. After a few years of me being frustrated with his unrequested advice and his being frustrated with my unwillingness to learn, I can fully admit that I am now a much better driver. I use my blinkers. I no longer go more than 5 miles over the speed limit. I try my very best to be courteous at all times. (And I'll admit that this all happened prior to our children.)

So why then, is it ALWAYS me who gets traffic violations? I KNOW I've been in the car with him when he's sped just a little more than he was supposed to or cut someone off or generally done something unfriendly behind the wheel. Not often, but it happens. Despite this, if there's a ticket coming for something - it's got MY name on it.

So imagine my surprise three weeks ago to get the mail out of the mailbox and find an envelope addressed to my husband from the "City of Rowlett Red Light Camera Enforcement Division". Could it be, I wondered smugly to myself, that the king of all road rules has violated the rule of not running a red light - in an intersection with a CAMERA? I am feeling a little full of myself and a bit more pleased about this than I really probably should. Not because it was HIM, but for ONCE, it WASN'T ME!

I leave the envolope innocously on the counter until he gets home from work. As we're going through the mail he gets a concerned look on his face and I know he can see me watching him open this envelope - ALMOST with a little glee. I know he's annoyed with himself and probably super upset to have broken his years and years of clean driving record.

Until we see the picture. That's MY car. At 5:03 pm. At THAT particular intersection. On THAT day. There's no way there was ANYONE in the car but...

ME.

Dammit.

Turns out if you've got two names on the car and they live at the same place, if you run a red light they just send it to the first name on the list. Doesn't matter who it was.

Except it's ALWAYS me.

Again - dammit.

Spring in Texas

It's springtime in Texas, and we've made the most of the beautiful weekend we just experienced. Yesterday we took N to the Fort Worth zoo and wandered around for hours. He really liked it, but I think he liked looking at the people more than the animals. Everyone had a blast.

Today we took him to the bluebonnet fields just on the outskirts of town for pictures. In Texas every spring tons and tons of wildflowers bloom on the sides of the highways thanks to Lady Bird Johnson. Well, and the weather that is conducive to flower growing. Here are some pictures of us in the wildflowers. Please excuse the squinting - N refuses to wear sunglasses, even though he's got them.

It's nice outside!

N tries the swings!

It was a beautiful day here today - so we decided to take N to the park and test out the baby swings. He wasn't sure what to make of them at first - but he seemed to really have a good time after he got used to it. Plus, there were a bazillion other kids at the park today for him to watch. He really likes watching kids. E says it's because he recognizes his own kind.

Can I get a witness?

911 operator: 911, what is your emergency?

Me: Um, I just witnessed a car accident. On Forest Lane near Garland High School.

911 operator: Were you in the accident, ma'am?

Me: Er, no. I just saw this one car change lanes into this other car. Do I need to go back? I left the scene.

911 operator: No ma'am. It would be helpful if you could tell me what happened though.

Me: Well, the tan car swerved into the black SUV. You're sure I don't have to go back or something? I don't really want to - I'm running late.

911 operator: No, really, you're fine. Just give me your name and telephone number so the insurance companies can contact you if necessary.

Me: Okay. Here they are. And really, I'm not going to get a ticket or something?

911 operator: You're sure you weren't actually IN the accident?

Me: Oh yes, I just saw the whole thing.

911 operator: You're fine. Really. Thanks for calling.

Me: Right. Uh, yeah. No problem.

Dear BOA

Dear Bank of America,

When a retailer reports that they've had hundreds of credit card numbers stolen and that mine is among them, I appreciate your proactive measures to prevent it's misuse. Specifically preventing anyone else from using it. But not EVERYONE from using it. Namely me. I need to use it.

Or at the very least tell me you're cancelling it and that my new cards are on the way. Don't let me go to the SuperTarget with my napping baby to buy groceries/diapers/toliet paper for the first time in four weeks, spend an hour wandering around picking up everything we need (and a good amount we don't need) and then trying to use my card (which you have thoughtfully cancelled for me) and having it be declined. Should SuperTarget hold on to all of my things? I have no idea why you won't let me use my card, BOA. I leave, without any of the numerous things I need (and don't need). And now my baby is awake too. How I am supposed to go back and get all of those things now, BOA?

I appreciate your fruad department making me wait 30 minutes to talk to them (32 minutes, to be exact, according to my cell phone) before you tell me how helpful you've been. But honestly, couldn't you have called? Emailed? Posted it on my online statement so when I paid my card off yesterday (before I went shopping, may I point out) I could have known it was cancelled?

BOA, you've been wonderful to us most all the time. I just really was pretty embarrassed telling the Target checkout lady that, no, I didn't happen to have another card on me. I've got a diaper and some wipes, does that help? A change of clothes for a 5 month old? Maybe my driver's license? I've got a diaper bag and two cards lady! (In retrospect, this was maybe poor planning on my part, but I honestly didn't think I needed anything else.) I hope we can be friends again soon. And thanks for letting me use my card until the new ones get here. It means my baby doesn't have to go around sans diaper for the next three days. Now I just have to wait until afternoon nap time to try and venture out again. Should I go back to the same Target? At least I know where everything I want is located.

Love,
me

Baby wagon - without racing stripes

For about the past nine months or so, E has been making noises about getting a newer, safer, bigger car for our baby. He really liked the idea of a minivan (or at least he made me believe that he did) and tried to sell me on it by promising something with racing stripes - as seen below.
I guess he felt that since Peyton Manning argued that racing stripes could make a minivan cool, it would be okay with it. I don't know why - don't ask me, I can't explain it - but I really didn't want a minivan. I've ridden in them. They're super comfortable. They're super practical. It made all the sense in the world. But something visceral in me rebelled against the whole notion. Even with racing stripes.

Lately, my Jeep has been making noises as if the transmission was going to give out at any moment. Given that I was driving around with a seven week old baby in 100 plus degree heat, it just really didn't make sense. It wasn't safe. What if the transmission actually gave out on 635 or something? I'd be trapped in the heat on a highway with a tiny baby. Not safe. We decided to make a preemptive strike and purchase our safer-better-newer car while the Jeep still possessed some trade-in value. After many hours of research and two exceptional test drives later, we're now happy owners or a Mazda CX-9. It's got all the great features of a minivan that E wanted - such as the third row of seats and comfy sitting arrangements. The only thing we're missing is sliding doors, but E figures that since I'm driving this one around, I ought to be happy. It's nice, and I'm pretty excited about it!
* This one isn't ours. I have no idea who those people are. Ours is sitting happily in the garage, waiting for me and N to take it out to see our friends E and co. + L later today. But this is a pretty good representation. Ours is black with tan leather interior - just like the one above.

Hockey time

Yesterday E and I took the time to head to a Dallas Stars hockey game. The only time I have been to see the stars before involved E and I sitting in the very last row of the American Airlines center. I'm talking, the very very very last row. I needed binoculars. It was fun, but I could have absorbed nearly as much watching the game on the TV at home.

Imagine our delight then at having tickets on the 12th row! We were right on the ice - we could even feel the cold-ness! It was super fun. I was very grateful for the glass and giant net that they put up behind the goals. Those pucks are really moving. As I watched Turco's backside during the first and third periods, I decided that being a hockey goalie is definitely not a job of the weak at heart.

It was a great time, even if the Stars lost. Go Stars! Get them next time.

I might've peed my pants a little...

E and I decided to spend part of our Sunday visiting a nearby exotic animal rescue. Nestled less than 7 miles from us on Lake Lavon is In Sync Exotics, a wildlife rescue center for big cats. It's only open on Saturday and Sunday from 11 am until 6 pm, so we figured it would be the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

We arrived and paid our donation (tax deductible!) the kid at the gate (child labor laws? Maybe not at a volunteer facility.) Immediately we got to look at two Lynx. I mean, immediately. They're right there, in that cage, looking at you. Awesome! I've never been so close to such a large cat before, and they really are beautiful. And big. Look at the size of those paws. And claws. And teeth. Now, at a zoo you would find yourself safely behind a very deep moat with a gate and all kinds of security-type precautions keeping you far far away from all those pointy parts of a giant cat. At the animal rescue sanctuary, all that stands between you and giant cats is two layers of chain link fence. I don't want to go speaking bad about chain link fences or anything, but I'm pretty sure my brother and I knocked a fence or two over when we were kids, i.e. much smaller than a 450 pound tiger.

The lynx didn't seem much interested in us, so we moved on to the giant white tiger who was lazing in the sun. He seemed kind of sleepy, but mostly harmless, so we oohed and ahhed a bit before moving on to the "Tiger Country". As we approached tiger country to read about all the tigers living in the enclosure, the largest, scariest Siberian tiger I have ever seen came sweeping out from a tiger house and growling, hissing, and standing up on his hind legs against the chain link fence. Reasonably, E and I scurried backward from the fence and tried to catch our breath and make sure that we hadn't wet ourselves. One of the keepers came over and told us that "Oh, Mohan just gets spooked by large groups of people. Move along and come back later and it will probably be fine. Don't you Mow-hawn? Big gwuy just scared of big people..." Scared of people my patootie. You talk baby talk to him all you want lady, we'll be happy to move along.

Does he look mad? Well, he was.

Anyway, after our scary run in with Mohan, we visited all the other tigers without incident. We looked at the two lions, visited the serval, hunted for the cougars (only spotted one), talked to the coatimundi, looked at the leopards, and even got chuffed at by a tiger named Nikolas. At first, we were quite sure we were going to be in trouble by tiger again, but a keeper informed us that chuffing is his way of telling us he likes us and to come on over. We were SOOO close to him and he looked really friendly, not like that Mohan guy. We talked to Nick for a while before ending our day by patting the friendly dog and horse (not part of the tour but on the property anyway) goodbye. It was a fun visit and really interesting. Just don't get to close to Mohan, and I'd highly recommend going. If you intend on getting close to Mohan, bring a change of pants.

Nick really likes us. He's super friendly and apparently the tallest cat there. He stands at over 11 feet when he gets up on his hind legs!

A Rube Goldberg mess

This little thing is a Jeep Liberty water pump and gasket. Apparently, this is the source of my inability to drive, the terrible noise E first heard, and all car problems to date. What happened, seemingly, is that this device, which keeps the engine from overheating (I've learned - why don't they call it a coolant pump?) stopped functioning in my Jeep. When this happened, a pulley seized up, which caused the belt turning on the pulley to spin and wear out (the high pitched whirring and the loud thunking). When the belt wore out, the pretty much all electrical in the Jeep stopped working, killing the battery in the process. This all rendered the car non-functional. Who would have thought such a small thing would cause such a huge mess? Like when an animal sneezes in the Serengeti, we never can be sure what repercussions our actions will have - including you, Jeep Liberty water pump.

The good news? The nice man at Rockwall Jeep/Dodge/Crystler was able to not only diagnose all of these problems in the early morning, but he was also able to repair them in a single day! Not only that, but he flushed the coolant and changed the oil while he was at it. I can't tell you how impressed I was with the customer service. Not only can you tell me exactly what the problem was but you can also have it to me by 4 pm? Fabulous! The fee? Not so fabulous, but hey, water pumps don't come cheap.

Thanks to all for your concern. I promise to listen to E next time about the noise. Oh, and if I hear a noise and lose power steering in the parking lot, I promise to call someone for a ride. No more driving home. That clearly doesn't work.

A thing I am particularly bad at

On a Sunday drive:
E: Has your car always made that noise?
A: What noise?
E: That high pitched squealing noise.
A: Er, I don't think so.
E: You don't think so, or you're sure.
A: Uh, yes.

Today:
After work I walked out to the car and started it up. The high pitched noise was still there. Before we all freak out, I had planned on taking it in on Friday to get it fixed, whatever it was. That was, until, instead of the high pitched noise I hear a loud pop and then a bunch of clunking. Then the noise was gone. The battery light came on, but otherwise, everything seemed to be running okay. I figured as long as I could get home, I could bring the car in to the dealership tomorrow. As I backed out of the parking space, I quickly realized that cars are much easier to drive when they have power steering, as mine didn't any longer. Oh well, I think. People drove for years without power steering. Surely I can drive home. That is, until about a mile from work when the radio shut off. Weird, but doesn't prevent driving. Until the lights started to dim. Then the speedometer quit working. Then, worst of all, the gas quit. I was the ridiculous person on the road whose car won't work, but apparently because all electrical stuff wasn't working I couldn't even turn on my hazards. I coasted onto a side street, sort of, and sat for a second weighing my options, which were few. I looked up the police non-emergency number on my phone and called them, because, well, I needed assistance. The police came and blocked the road so I wouldn't be crashed into by crazy frustrated commuters, and they also called a tow truck for me. The tow truck came and loaded up the Jeep and drove both me and it all the way to Rockwall where we left the Jeep at the dealership (for a fee).

Firsts for me: Calling the police to block traffic. Getting a car towed. Riding in a tow truck.

Lessons learned: Listen to E when he says to take the car in on Tuesday and not wait until Friday because that noise might actually be something serious and not something that can wait.

At least I learned a lesson.

A visceral reaction

It's like taking a step back into time - Walking into the 6th Floor Museum in what used to be the Texas Book Depository in downtown Dallas. You learn about this moment in history, but you never really know what it must have been like, at least not if you weren't there. A moment forever remembered in history through a pink suit, a motorcade, a president. The museum leads you through the life and times of President Kennedy, up through the terrible day in 1963 that all centered around this very spot, the place where you are standing now. It makes you draw in a deep breath. You watch footage, you remember his dreams, you wonder what might have been. Most of all, you want to do more. You want to be do better. You want to be better.

The museum is worth visiting. There were moments that took my breath and pulled at my emotions. I left feeling moved and stirred and better somehow. It was well worth the trip.

Target is my favorite store

I was wandering around Target tonight, arguably to pick up things for a baby shower I'm part of hosting this weekend, but mostly because I love wandering around Target. Target has everything you could possibly imagine, and is absolutely chock full of things you don't even realize you need. (Unless you're my husband, who doesn't need these things and doesn't think I really need a seventh clock for our great room either.)

Anyway, upon checking out, the two high school aged cashiers were talking to each other.
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Cashier #1: I think they're highly dependent for each other.

Cashier #2: What?

Cashier #1: I'm trying to sound smart.

Cashier #2: What's that mean? Dependent?

Cashier #1: You know, related and liking each other and stuff.

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And stuff indeed.