Carpool Lane

 
Do you ever feel like you belong in the carpool lane? Because when you think about it, there's you and then there's your alter ego cartoon you in the car.

I've always felt a strong affinity for Wonder Woman. She can fly, she has great hair, she rocks a great costume, and when she appears - people notice. Whoops, I guess I'm only batting 500 here. My point being......I've stumbled onto some karma, some aura, some flirtatious vibe of popularity and my hair has been pretty great too.

When I was sporting that black eye I had 2 guys chat me up at Caribou. My BFF, the blonde beautiful girl next door, even said she doesn't get that much attention over coffee. I chocked it up to freakish curiosity on their part. Then at WalMart, the cashier dude talks me up and steps out from the register and personally loads my bags of Cheerios, rotisserie chicken and fresh strawberries into my cart like a Boy Scout? Hhhmm, I'm thinking....that's nicely weird?

And now the old dude from the dating site, that showed polite sympathy for my stupid accident at the Mall of America, turned out to be a great first date. His profile picture looked like Jerry Stiller on a bad day, no not Ben, but Jerry. So I washed my hair and hoped for the best. Well once I sat down face to face with him I could see there was nothing old and decrepit about this guy. He was a very young 51 and the more we chatted the better looking he got. Funny how that goes. And by the end of our second date I was starting to feel that Wonder Woman vibe a lot stronger.

Ah, but this morning as Gizmo and I were walking in the early morning hours, I tried to flash my brilliant smile at the hot neighbor that was jogging past but somehow he didn't see the fine hair (under the warm hunting cap), or feel the flirty vibe (from my hot pink scarf), or even the XXL costume peeking out (from my down jacket). It dashed all my secret plans to trot alongside him and discover if he really was Superman or just Clark Kent?

One of these days I'm going to take that carpool lane and fly as fast as my car can take me....'cuz there's no wondering about this woman. Just like Wonder Woman I'm on a mission "to bring the Amazon ideals of love and peace to a world torn apart by the hatred of men." Or something like that...... Happy New Year!

Mall of America - Next Right

I took an interesting trip at the Mall of America recently. Literally. I tripped on a rug and fell face first on the floor. I don't often fall, in fact, I'm super cautious and very aware of my surroundings since I'm often walking the dog in the dark and in all kinds of weather. But still I ended up on the Mall floor with a Technicolor black eye.

It got me thinking about how often we duck when trouble is headed our way. When you're falling and the floor is coming fast - there's no time to duck. I'm one who likes to duck. I'd rather take cover and avoid pain thank you. Controversy? No sirree, you can have it. But somehow trouble always seems to find me. Just when I think I've got time to stop, drop, and roll -- I trip and get a faceplant instead.

Who wants trouble? Each day has it's own worries so I don't want to borrow trouble. We're all going to trip, right? We're all going to fall or fail or screw up. But what's more important ----where you fall or how you get up?

I'd like to think that when 4 pairs of eyes are hovering above you asking to help that how you get up is key. Thinking too much about losing face isn't going to bring you back on your feet. You need to catch the view from the floor and determine you want to be upright at all costs. If a few strangers can help you back on your feet than don't be proud - take the help and determine to pay it forward.

I was distracted when I tripped, I'll admit. Those guys that wear the skinny girl jeans? How do they do that? I said to myself, as I followed the guy wearing the skinny girl jeans into the Mall. So take my advice don't duck and avoid every mishap just determine to get back up in a better place.

Saint Paul, next 3 exits.....

This week I followed exits that took me to new places; some exits ended good some not so good.

On Sunday I discovered an easy route down to New Prague, MN where I had spent many summer afternoons as a girl while my parents golfed. The weekly pilgrimage took forever from the backseat, but it's funny how now that I'm in the driver's seat, I see it's just an easy 25 minute drive. The exit into town was rewarded with a great chatfest over lunch with a good friend.

I confirmed my address and the exits leading to my house on Monday. This allowed an appraiser to arrive and do his magic for my anticipated Refi. But, unfortunately, that didn't happen. I found out that my house is average (hey, average is still good) but due to the low-priced home sales in my area my house is upside down - financially speaking. My hopes for a Refi took an exit, stage right.

On Wednesday, I rode a big yellow school bus with the fourth grade class to the St. Paul Science Museum. We learned about the famous mummy who had been encased in glass even before I was in the fourth grade. This funky dude was embalmed by his people with the hopes of being transported into the netherworld to live in eternity with the gods they worshiped. Well wouldn't he be surprised to learn he only made it as far as St. Paul, MN.

And lastly, the exit I took tonight led me to the jr. high for day 2 of wrestling practice. My son is trying out a new sport and I'm on the sidelines soaking it all in, trying to understand why 2 hot sweaty guys want to chase each other in a circle just to slam each other ferociously to the mat. I finally shook my head and asked the dad next to me what the fascination was with wrestling and he answered, "it's all about domination and proving you have the strength to take down your opponent." I guess I'm not the dominatrix type. I've never been a fan of WWF so it will take some getting used to if my son becomes the next  Stone Cold-Steve Austin or John Cena.

I've started to think differently about exits. Leaving the highway isn't an end for me anymore, it's more of a warm welcome as I trade the speed of the 4 lanes for the scenery of the 2 lanes. It's great to be in the rat race at times but when the sign reads next exit in 2 miles, and I know it's my exit, I can turn off expectantly to find my lovely upside home still waiting for me all cozy and warm. Of course John Cena, a.k.a. my son, may just be lurking behind the drapes ready to take down his mom but I've been paying attention at practices and I'll razzle dazzle him with my finesse and use my triple threat of hugging, kissing, and tickling to whup his behind. Nobody messes with this mama jama!

Chased by the Cops

Last weekend I watched the classic chick flick, Thelma and Louise. I remember being so shocked by the undoing of these suburban women in the film. They evolve from being tightly wound Stepford-like women with no voice into strong-willed independent women who can stand on their own. Unfortunately, their transformation also includes guns, murder, robbery and being chased by the cops (small details, LOL).

Thelma lets loose her inner vixen and flirts with a new breed of men - Brad Pitt being one of them and who can blame her? Along this path of broken hearts, broken laws and miss-adventures they find their courage and their power bolstered by their deep friendship. In the end they are cornered and forced by the cops to be taken captive dead or alive -- and the most powerful moment of the film is when they decide it won’t be either.

It kind of makes you think about your friends and you wonder – which of my friends would be there with me driving triumphantly over a cliff in a blue mustang?

I have this friend, I’ll call her Junie, and she is every bit as powerful as Louise and every bit the vixen like Thelma. Junie has been to hell and back watching the men in her life disappoint her and lead her astray by their lame example. But Junie had the inner resources, the gift, of reinventing herself at critical crossroads in her life. Junie seems to find the strength in herself and the faith in her Lord to pull herself through each impasse to carve out a new corner of the world that beckons her to move past, to move forward, and to do better.

After supporting me through my divorce, rescuing a co-worker from domestic abuse, and offering her home to some hard-luck adults with questionable rental history she has proven the critics wrong by empowering us all, this ragged lot of vagabonds, into standing tall, into rising above our crises, and showing us by example that we must pay it forward.

Junie is moving on this month. She’s trusting God to move her life in a new direction thousands of miles from here. I’m anticipating the stories she’ll post online of her new adventures, her new men, and her new outreach to her community. Junie has changed the dynamic of her past by blazing this new life of reaching out to others. Her example of paying it forward goes before her and will light the path for her future.

If I ever find myself in a blue mustang with the top down I’ll honk my horn and blast my radio for you Junie – you’re my Thelma and Louise package deal! Have a great ride!!

50 MPH Speed Limit

Sometimes it's good to have limits. Without boundaries people run amok. Right? If 9 Doritos equals one serving and one serving equals 150 calories, could I tempt you with 10?

Turning 50 this year has helped me appreciate the limits we face in life. Some are imposed on us by traffic laws and others are self-imposed for our own good. I used to think having 4 practical shoes and 1 pair of Nikes was a good shoe limit until I started noticing all the color and the style at the mecca of shoes, DSW Warehouse, and now I think sky's the limit on women and their shoes. Who can get in the way of a woman and her passion for shoes?

My passions follow a seasonal tract. In the summer I can devour 2 books a week. I even stepped way out of my comfort zone in July and read the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series consecutively in 3 weeks. But put me in the busy fall schedule and books and I part ways.

This fall I've been passionate about watching football: both live on the field with my son's games and on TV with the NFL. Who'da thunk it? Gizmo my dog is not so passionate. At Brady's last football practice, I turned my back for a second and he lifted his leg and peed on #4's helmet lying in the grass. I was soooo embarrassed; especially when the kids starting hollering across the field...."Hey, Brady's dog peed on Owen's helmet." I quickly offered some hand wipes - it was gross and funny at the same time, LOL.

With winter fast approaching, the nights will be much shorter at our house. Early to bed and early to rise my dad would always say, and that's our motto. Tonight held my first victory in the retro game of Battleship (G-6? Ah, you sunk my battleship.) That's my winter passion: turning off the TV and setting up the board games. Well when we're inside. Outside it's sledding and snowboarding and a few snow forts in between. I share his love of winter. I'm fighting fleas right now on Gizmo so I'm really hoping for an early snowfall. Did I just say that? Don't hate me.


I'm too organized and methodical to be randomly limitless. My passions have boundaries and limits that work for me. But then again, I'm recently single so maybe it's a point to expand upon and push out from? Maybe I should be more random? Maybe try driving 51 MPH, or click BUY on those shoes in my online shopping cart. Eating too many Doritos, well that's a slam-dunk, I don't need any help there.

One Way Street

I was raised in a house of cards. As a young girl it was great fun to sneak up behind my dad at our holiday parties and steal a few pennies from his pile of winnings while playing poker.Or, if my mom had her glass of 7up and a bowl of nuts nearby, I could easily get a taste of both with no scolding. At that time, I was more interested in playing with my Christmas presents than I was with the adults playing cards around the table. Two years later, at another Christmas celebration, the suggestion was raised by someone at the table, "could Sara Jane play poker with the adults?" By then I was 9 and I was very impressed with those tall stacks of quarters and dimes that piled up on the table. It was a bar mitzvah of sorts to be invited to the poker table with the extended family and I welcomed the jump in social status. Besides, I knew Barbie would rather be back on the couch snuggling with Ken anyway.

My folks had some crazy games that we played: Change the Diaper, Acey Duecy One-Eyed Jack, and 7 Cards No Peeky. I could never remember the actual hierarchy of poker hands so my dad would faithfully write out for me each year on random scraps of paper why a Royal Flush beat 3 of a kind. Sometimes in mid-June, well after the holidays, I would come across his handwritten list of poker hands and I'd smile and think about who would be sitting around the table next year.

As a teenager I had my own card parties around that table. I had them in spades. To assuage my parent's guilt over leaving me alone every Friday night while they were out playing cards or bowling, I was allowed to have my Rat Pack of  girls over for game nights. They would come to the house on their Raleigh's and Schwinn's and we would light up the night with our giggles of laughter playing rounds of Hearts and Uno. And if the night went long, I'd break out the Sorry game and we'd go nose to nose moving our pieces around the board as we shrieked "SSSOOOORRRYYYY" in our best Carol Burnett voice.

When my mom was diagnosed 9 years ago with lung cancer and began failing she made plans to move to a nursing home to get short term care. Dad was gone by then and none of us kids were skilled in nursing so it seemed a good decision. The Walker Nursing Home was surrounded on all sides by one way streets. It was such a contrast to leave the wide open spaces of suburbia to then navigate these narrow one way streets with parked cars, buses streaming by, all the while calming a crying toddler in the backseat. For months I made the trip north across the freeway, down the back roads, and through that maze of one way streets. The stoplights were too many to count but I did anyhow. I started dreaming about a route that would take me directly from my home to my mom with fewer stoplights. Whenever I'd get stopped by those red lights I'd plot out a new route that would cost me one less stoplight on my next trip.

My mom's funeral was held in Minneapolis very near those same one way streets. It was a beautiful morning in August for such a sad occasion and we were burying her with my dad at Fort Snelling with a military ceremony. The cars were lined up outside the funeral home and the police escort was in place and ready to lead us in procession. As we advanced down the block I noticed the first green light and said a silent thank you heavenward as we continued. It was my habit to count the stoplights and as we neared the next light that was turning yellow, soon to be red, it dawned on me that with the police escort I'd be making this last trip to see my mom with no traffic lights. I'd finally be driving these one way streets to see my mom with no red light stops in between. It was a God thing and it made me bawl but it also made me smile.

When my mom was first diagnosed and emotionally reeling from the news, we were all taken by surprise and cut to the quick wondering how many months we'd have with her. The doctors had said only 3-6 months, so when it stretched to 9 months - well, it was all gravy from there on out. I remember we were in the car once leaving another doctor's appointment, and mom with her usual way of putting my needs before her own, turned and said to me, "Sara Jane, don't be sad....I've had a very good life......I've been dealt a good hand."  And indeed she had. I like to think mom, dad, and Uncle Ray are having the time of their lives shuffling the deck, cutting the cards, placing their bets down on the table waiting for us kids to join them again at the adult poker table.

Fines Double in Work Zone

Time is flying by fast. They say once you have kids time speeds up. You see the calendar advancing and you wonder how you got this far. Wasn't it just spring? Wasn't the snow just melting and giving way to dry sidewalks and bicycles in the street? It all comes and goes so fast, time doubles in the work zone of life.

For those of us that journal online, we should set our Outlook calendar to ping us every 3 days to slow us down. Or perhaps a pop-up reminder when 4 things get scheduled on one day: Warning Warning you're about to max out your day put $5.00 in the toll. And if we exceed our weekly limit of activities the fines would double, ca-ching ca-ching!

I love looking forward. I like looking ahead. I want events on my calendar that draw me out of bed with curiosity and anticipation. My problem is having too many good things to look forward to. Sometimes the good thing is vacation with a travel date looming. Or a weekend to shop for new shoes and new clothes. I can hardly wait for the first "firsts" of each season. Whether it's the first snow or the first rain or the first thunderstorm that first one can be magical. A brand new kind of good thing was my first phone call (post-divorce) from a blind date. I might even note on the calendar the discovery of a rocking new band  on SNL called Foster the People.

My calendar does more than denote the passage of time forward it brings me backward to all that was willing, thrilling and chilling. It's like a scrapbook of my life carefully documented with words and dates. Oh look I have a free hour next Tuesday. Pencil me in for some auto body work. I need some outta body girl time for a mani/pedi.....but only if I'm done by 3:00pm because I'm booked and I still have to do X, Y, and ZZZZZZ.

Right Turn Only

There was an old lady who drove, she lived in a sunny white cove, 

she shopped every day, she knew the right way, 

but never a left turn she wove.

I'd heard of a woman that only made right turns. She prided herself on getting to her destinations by only straight aways and right turns. If a left was looming ahead she might go a block out of her way in order to turn right and then position herself back on that corner now set up to turn right. It was safe this way with no confrontation with traffic - even though most of her traffic was 80 year old codgers driving golf carts in a senior community.

When I think of right turns in traffic I think of going with the flow, agreeing with the crowd, following your peers, AND not finding your voice. Since turning 50 I have a bit more clarity in my life and often I'm surprised at how the choices I make are purposeful now. I can see the left choice and the right choice and I like to surprise myself by taking the left one more often than not. Don't they say taking the road less travelled makes all the difference?

I remember the early days of The Seinfeld Show when Jerry and Elaine would just blurt out their thoughts with hardly a consideration whether the truth was offensive or just humorous. It was their truth and they had to say it: whether it was Elaine fighting with the Soup Nazi or Jerry scolding Newman for rightly being a jerk. During the heyday of that show, I was stepping into the elevator at work empowered by a Seinfeld episode only to find this gorgeous 7ft man beside me. I was so taken by his generous height and his good looks that I became Elaine and blurted out....."where have you been all my life? Here I settled for a man 2 inches shorter than me." Immediately after, I wondered did I just think that or did I say that out loud? Sure enough, we both laughed and then I knew.

Left turns can lead to interesting discoveries. I took a virtual left turn by attending my first orchestra concert. This classic rock mama now loves being swept away by the strings and stirred by the drums and taken in by the horns. My culinary left turn was to lose the red sauce on my pizza and make this out of this world club turkey pizza with mayo, bacon and cheese. And who knew the left turn into the water park would become my trifecta of new left turn ideas.

There are times when traffic doesn't allow a left turn and then you have to trust that a Higher Power has made that decision for your safety and then you follow and obey. I'm a very obedient person by nature but I like to think my left turns are succeeding in making my life a bit more colorful and a bit more interesting.

There now is a lady that drives, it's left not the right that she strives,

 for the scenery ahead has changed in her head,

her momentum might change all your lives

Caution: Deer next 120 yards

We had a "dear" in our yard last night, just the cutest little white fluffy poodle. Funny, you never see poodles in our neighborhood and never one that's lost and running all whackadoo throughout the streets. This dear little Missy was hot, dirty, and Frisky with a capital F.She made a bee line for Gizmo and would not let him alone until she had her way with him. And then she did it again and again. I had Giz on a lease so I could have pulled him away but I thought, heck - it's his birthday week, why not get a little? So I turned my back and let the hook up happen right there in the yard.

There was no morning after awkwardness, no promises to call next Saturday, it was just a quick wham bam thank you ma'am, and she was trotting away with a big smile on her face. Gizmo looked a little dazed and he wobbled for a second but then he caught his manly stride and walked away on all fours humming a little Rod Stewart - Do you think I'm sexy, and you want my body....

Sex in our world is so much more complicated. There are rules that get broken when you have quick hookups. Big deep spiritual ones, mildly frowned upon cultural rules, and agonizing heart break when some one gets hurt from the hook up. Not all romps are as casual as Samantha Jones had it in Sex and The City.

Ah, but in a dog's world that's all you get are quick hook ups. There's no courtship and marriage and a white picket fence to look forward to. There's no golden rule to follow as you honor your spiritual relationship with your Maker. It's all fun, sun, and a little something something on the side. That dear little one ran away from us last night despite our best efforts to lure her in so we could read her tags and send her home. She kept on trotting across the yards and busy streets determined to find her way in this new world without a lease. I feel a little bit like my leash is off and I'm finding my way in the world again.

Maybe I'll see our dear little Miss again and when I do I'll remind her that being free is The Shawshank Redemption but she doesn't have to jump every dog in celebration. God will send the right Dalmatian or Great Dane when the timing is right, you just gotta put yourself out there in the yard and wait for it.......

Slippery When Wet

There's a big craft sale in 2 weeks. I'm looking forward to doing a little shopping, having lunch with a friend, and maybe soaking up some late autumn sunshine. My friend and I both have kids and crazy schedules with lots going on so it will take us a good 40 minutes over Cobb Salads to get through all the family stories, the gossip and all the big news.We'll hit the craft fair all talked out and ready to shop.

These craft fairs can sometimes plague me for days after. I'll be inching along the tables oohing and aahing over the handmade jewelry, the gorgeous hats or the brilliant scarves until I spot that one item that stops me in my tracks. I'll see something so perfect, so different, and so ------attainable -----that I won't buy it but instead I will determine that I will make that for Christmas gifts this year! Yes, I'll buy the supplies and set up my table and kick out 15 of those for my BFFS and Peeps for the holidays. The adrenaline starts pumping and I rush through the next week chomping at the bit, eager to make that drive after work to Michael's Craft Store to secure all the preliminaries. I'm guessing at the quantities but I fill up my cart with supplies, a quick stop for takeout Pad Thai, and I'm driving home a happy camper.

The next day is Saturday and I unpack my new treasures. I open up the cabinets and bins that host leftover craft supplies from other brainstorms and I add to the pile on the table. I have bits of quilting supplies still from the 1 quilt I finished and the second quilt that is an 8 year work in progress. Next to the card making stamps and markers are the Creative Memories scrap booking tools and papers that I use religiously. And buried deeply in the bin beyond the yarn, the glitter, and the paints is my favorite of all, my hot glue gun. I wielded that gun with power as I transformed my little pieces of junk into little pieces of treasures aka Christmas gifts in the 90's.

It didn't take long to survey the contents and map out my strategy for replicating this little klotchkey with assembly line efficiency. But then I answered the phone, and the dog needed to go poo, and then the doorbell rang and by then it was lunch time and the floor needed sweeping and the next thing I knew my son was back from his dad's looking to play and I hadn't accomplished a thing!

It's a slippery slope when you're crafting. You can have too much, too fast, too soon and then nothing gets done, ha. So the bins and the cabinets will remain closed this month. I'm not going to be suckered in by my own imagination this year. I will keep a full metal jacket of self control on me as I maneuver past the stacks of crocheted dishcloths and dog sweaters, and no, I will not be tempted to start a new craft this year. I will not. But just in case, I'm going to hang onto this 20% off coupon at Michael's.

The One Finger Salute

I was driving in southern MN a few years back and discovered a little road gesture that was only shared by males and that was only displayed from their moving vehicles.
NO NOT THAT ONE

It really was a beautiful day with the sun streaming in the windows and farmland as far as the eye could see. I won't lie, I can't pinpoint wheat from alfalfa or from young corn - I had to be schooled on what was out there. So there we were driving these slow country roads and being a curious person (that is often rewarded) I did my usual thing of checking out the approaching car, then checking out the driver and all the occupants. In my years of living in Richfield and then in St. Cloud, I had great luck seeing people I knew in all those cars, so it became my M.O.

Well on this day as I'm minding my own business I see this truck advancing towards me and just as we're abreast of each other he gives me the finger.
NO NOT THAT ONE

He ever so casually raises his right index finger in the air and then quickly flips it down. What was this? I'd been flipped off but in a new way??? My co-pilot in the car explained that it was a MN-Nice thing, it was a farm family thing, maybe even a secret code among those in the know.......well that's going too far. Heck, the guy was saying Hello! Well wasn't that special? I had to try it out for myself. The next 3 cars that were coming in the distance towards me were going to get my new one finger salute.
NO NOT THAT ONE

It is a sweet country thing. I love to do it now and in the instant that you start saluting it's funny how quickly they salute right back to you. Oh it made my day to somehow break the barrier and find myself in this secret world of driving salutation. With the migration of farmers up to the cities over the years, I find I can play my little driving hello game with older male drivers in the metro. They seem to be clued in, they know the move, and sure enough they smile big after - pleased to find another driver in the know.

School Bus circa 1973

We were too young to drive, our parents all worked, and our older siblings were too cool to sport around a little kid in the car so the school bus was the only way to get to school - back in the day.


Whether the bus stop was north or south of my house it reached a wide radius, kids from probably 3 square blocks would line up on the corner. Funny how by Jr. high I wasn't actively hanging with most of them but I had a history with every one of them. Those immediately on my block had all survived non stop games of freeze tag, street hockey, doorbell ditch, kick the can and blind man's bluff. As summers came and went we upgraded to truth or dare, first kisses in the hedge of trees, streaking across the yards at midnight, seances and raising Mary Worth (who was she anyway) and bike rides to the outer most parts as long we were home by dinner.

Was it just me or can you remember the exciting adrenaline rush of being invited to play on a new block with a new group of kids? I can still picture running as a pack of wolves (us kids) through a backyard, past a lonely swing set, across another street, through an unfamiliar backyard leaping in pursuit while avoiding piles of dog poop only to find yourself smack dab into unknown territory. It was the equivalent of going to bed in North Dakota and waking up in Hawaii.

The whole night was filled with possibilities as we drew up teams and set the boundaries of how far you could run and hide and still be considered "in bounds." There was always a boy who pushed the limits and would be just one house over and would strut out smugly at the end of the game saying HE WON since no one found him.

Looking back, we had some really great times growing up together. We knew which moms had the best treats, we knew which moms allowed sleepovers and which ones didn't (mine - sigh). We knew how to play our mothers to get rides to the pool or pick around in their purses for loose change for when we biked to Kenny's and Roith's - the 2 stores to get candy and hang out at.

Dads were a big factor too. My dad had a certain few notes he would whistle when it was time to go in. I could be hiding in a bush, biking down the street, or planning a haunted house in someones garage.....but when I heard that whistle I knew it was time to call it a night and go home. There was a dad a block over that was handsome like Captain Von Trap and another that farted loudly and blamed us while laughing behind our backs. On any given night in the summer you'd see the parents chatting out front, walking over with coffee in their hands, checking out some new power tool or lawn gadget. It was a safe place and idyllic, really.

By high school most of us were driving or carpooling with friends with only the random bus ride as a last resort. It wasn't cool to ride the bus anymore. But even then if I got on and found myself in the back of the bus chances were good I would know someone from my bus stop. Oh that someone might look cool in his Members Only jacket wearing Levis jeans and sporting Adidas tennies but I knew the back story. I knew that under that Tom Selleck cool exterior was a sweet young boy who played Barbies with me when no one was looking, who made me snort milk out my nose from laughing, and most importantly gave me the hope of having a best friend just like him that I could call my own.

Traffic Signal Control Change Ahead

Recently, I was driving in new construction and saw the road sign: TRAFFIC SIGNAL CONTROL CHANGE AHEAD. The word CHANGE Tweeted in my head all day. What if God sent *IM* messages to our screens alerting us to the changes down the road, would we switch lanes and take the first exit?

What if 17 years ago while I was working on my brand new IBM word processor, with the typewriter still on the counter behind me, God had sent this *IM* to my screen, The wedding you're planning, it's not going to last.

Then fast forward 3 years and I'm in a conference room where the software engineers are joking that this new video conferencing chip will be on handheld devices someday (yeah right and Spock will beam me up). Meanwhile back at my desk, God sends His *IM* saying The baby you're hoping for, it will take 5 years and your mom will pass away one year later.

Four years later I'm seeing ads on my MAC computer for this new little show called American Idol and there on the screen God sends the *IM* Hey cat lover, you're going to get a dog in 9 years. 

Would we better off if God gave us these little heads up messages? If we are forewarned are we really forearmed? Looking back and seeing the road map of changes that transpired I don't think the added *IM* messages would have made me bail and ditch my car. Faith is all about trusting the GPS that God puts in our hearts in spite of road conditions and detours ahead. I'm proud of the dents and scratches on my car -- I think it's proof of a life well loved, a car that's been around the block. That big Richfield Tour bus in the sky is moving forward and it's comforting to know who's driving the bus. As a future ticket holder, I know He's saving my seat.

Title Change

 A person wears many hats and carries many titles. I've changed a few hats over the years and I'm busy changing titles also.

In the last year I went from Mrs. to Ms. I went from my married name to my maiden name again. I've changed the title of my checking accounts, my house bills, even the dog license for Gizmo reflects my new title: Ms. Sara Houser (single again). Today it was the the title on my car that changed from 2 drivers names to just mine. Some titles are great to have back again.

I have some people in my life that I always refer to with a title. I wonder why that is? There's Mr. Johnson, the hardworking dad and provider of an ever growing family who is my same age. And there's Mrs. Zoellner, my son's teacher who I could call Amy but instead refer to her title out of respect. And there's Miss Becki, my BFF at work who all the gals affectionately refer to as Miss even though she's a mom of college aged kids. Funny how titles come and go in style.

There was a time when you would never call your BFF's mom by her first name : Well hello there Corrine, how are you doing today. That would never fly. No, we used the Eddie Haskell approach instead saying, Well hello there Mrs. Cleaver how are you doing today? Yet even though I grew up with that formality, I've always insisted that the neighbor kids call me Sara, or Brady's mom, but never Ms. Houser. That was my mom's name and I don't associate with that. I feel a first name is more approachable.

There are some titles I'll never miss, for example: Mrs. George Clooney, Miss America, or Dr. Houser. That's fine with me. After a few more months tho, I might want to seek out just one more title ------and that's Mr. Right.

Garage Sale Bumper Stickers

Have you seen those bumper stickers that say: Caution this vehicle stops for all garage sales.

I used to be a big garage sale person . When my son was small I would pack him in the car seat and off we'd go -- in and out and in and out of the car stopping at each house for a quick peek at all the goods.

Well thank goodness the days of in and out are over. Now I've discovered Craigslist. Holy Smokes! It is the most fun I've had shopping in ages. I love discovering new categories on Craigslist. I found my roommate under the "housing wanted" link. I found my leather sectional couch under the "general" link (but talked her into giving it to me for free). The Judds concert tickets came at a huge discount under the "tickets" link and both of the beds in my house came gently used from the Craigslist "household" link.

Today I happened to find the "clothing and accessories" link. I think I may have found my son's new winter jacket, a year's worth of jeans for him, and a designer purse for me.

I'm not shy about shopping. I'll admit it, I love to shop. It has to be discounted tho, I'm all about the bargains. That's why I love the FREE link on Craigslist. It's a booty call for those of us that love to shop, ha.

School Safety Zone - 25 MPH -

I used to be inconvenienced by those school safety zones in front of schools. You know, the short stretch of road near an elementary school which requires you to slow way down? Oh I was too busy to be bothered to slow down. I didn't have children. I would never hit a child with my car. I could still be careful driving faster than 25 MPH I justified. I was speeding over the school safety speed limit with that kind of rationalization. I got away with it until I became a mom 9 years ago.

Now if you asked me how I felt about those school safety zones today - post motherhood - I would have a totally different rationale.

My mornings are a horse race. I'm running through my morning routine every day trying to squeeze out a little more time for walking the dog or vacuuming the carpet. I'm brushing my teeth with an eye on the hair balls that are forming in the corner of the floor. Breakfast is short and sweet as I half listen to the weather report, wolf down some cereal, and slap PB&J together for lunch. It's full throttle to get out the door and drop my son at school and still make it to work on time.

As I'm accelerating down the street my head is still checking off the items on my morning checklist. But now when I see those yellow flags in the distance it's actually a reminder to slow ME down, not just the car. I take my foot off the gas and as I slowly approach the school I feel my blood pressure dropping, my breath is even, I can even hear the songs on the radio and for a second I can daydream and go to a happy place. All that happens while I'm watching the kids in the crosswalk being flagged across by their loving parents and humming to Fleetwood Mac.

Maybe when you see those school safety zones you'll slow down too. Use that time in the car to switch gears, literally, and relax a bit and maybe you'll find yourself in a happy place with Stevie Nicks and the band.

Duluth Road Trip last July

I saw Duluth yesterday. I forgot how much I love being there and driving along the Scenic Route and just taking in the view of the lake. It is so magnificent, it makes you feel small and humble and awestruck. Brady, my son, was with his dad and I was feeling adventurous.

Once I got on the highway a pretty little battery light came flashing onto my dashboard but I determined I was going to avoid it and just see.......I dropped Gizmo, our dog, at the Duluth Boarding Kennels to play for the day and continued up to the Split rock Lighthouse as the cute little red light kept flashing.

The Lighthouse wasn't at all as I remembered it. I guess I was picturing something in my head from a romantic movie or maybe from a Scooby Do cartoon. It was impressive, just not what I remembered.  On the way out, cars were lining up to enter, good thing I beat the crowd.

I turned back south because I had a 12:30 tour at Glensheen to make so I regretfully thought - bummer - can't do Gooseberry Falls this time.

With the red light still flashing I got closer and closer to Gooseberry Falls when the voltage indicator started dropping. Yeah, it was making me nervous, so I make a lickety split decision and I pulled off the highway into Gooseberry and right there in the parking lot, in a primo STAFF parking spot, all the gauges went to zero and my truck died, ha.

On the bright side, I got to see Gooseberry Falls while waiting for the tow.

It took 3 hours for the tow, the ride to Two Harbors, and the new alternator and new battery to be installed. Sigh. It was my vacation money that I had pinched together over the spring and summer. Sigh,sniff, boo hoo hoo. I"ll probably cry real tears later today. But I was just so thankful to be safe, have my car fixed, and able to enjoy the rest of the day that I put all that behind me.

Glensheen was gracious enough to bump me to the 4pm tour so that was a cool thing.What a gorgeous house. I do wish they would have talked about the Murders. They sold the book right in the Gift Shop but no mention of it on the tour. The house was so grand, it must have seemed very opulent in its day.

I picked up Gizmo and was on my way home to the cities at 6:30pm.

Oh, one side note:

There was a storm brewing in Sturgeon Lake so I saw it in my rear view mirror all the way home. I stopped in Hinckley for gas and a burger (no Tobey caramel rolls this time). I was in the drive through at Hardees and this car ahead of me was taking forever!! It was like she was telling them the story of her life. How hard is it to order a few burgers? So I'm nervous about the storm and seeing some raindrops on my window and without thinking about it......I honked at them. They turned around seething at me and I rolled my hand at them, as if to indicate ---hurry along. Somehow their order was still on the screen when I got up there and I saw the couple had ordered $20 worth of burgers. That should have prepared me for what came next......

The passenger in the car steps out of the car and he's MAMMOTH. Like a WWF wrestler with bulging muscles and angry face and arms like cement walls. He comes up to my drivers window and says, "You F****ing bitch, you honked at us in the drive through? What's up with you, you bitch!" And I'm all cocky and tired and go, well you seemed to be taking soooo long up there and I'm trying to beat the storm. And he called me a bitch again and my big retort was, "WELL JEEPERS CREEPERS, GO ON WITH YA." Ha ha ha. I wasn't even thinking that my life was at stake over a few burgers, ha ha.

Overall a triumphant day of big girl panty duties - with no tears.

I'm going to rest today with a few Advil for my tourist feet and driver's backache.