Return of the Techno-Amish!

There's a new truck in town!

   Okay, it's a new-used truck and we acquired it a little while back, before the old flatbed felon died. A current picture would show this beauty with a white powdery coating of salt that comes off easily on any jacket that brushes the surface. Quite frankly, we've had it long enough that we are

comfortable allowing our daughter to drive it as she practices her skills on a learner's permit. Either we are really brave, or just nuts. You decide. Just remember, the truck she is driving is probably bigger than the car you're driving, so you might want to stay off the road for awhile.

   Fortunately we didn't have to trade our daughter in for the new vehicle. I would have given it some serious consideration if the dealer accepted teenagers as payment. They don't. Apparently eye rolling skills do not hold much monetary value. Instead, we utilized all her future college funds. We should be done paying for the truck sometime in the next two centuries. She wasn't destined for an ivy league school anyway, right?

   The truck has proven an excellent investment. It has a larger towing capacity than our older one, which means I can haul more bodies if needed. Yes, I've hauled bodies, though I didn't really require a truck to do so. I'll write about that some other time. What we mostly haul is our camper. Our old truck was getting less and less reliable, we feared trips over mountains, or hills, or even highways with slight inclines. Now we are planning a trip that includes all of the aforementioned.

   The truck also has a whole lot of other really cool bells and whistles, like a step that folds out of the tailgate, heated seats that will singe the hair off your backside, four wheel drive to take on rugged terrain, a larger backseat with more leg room, the cheater back-up assist feature we think is hilarious...and technology!

   Unfortunately, all this new stuff comes with a learning curve. The turning radius isn't as tight as the old truck, which makes things...interesting.  Such as parking lots. Did you ever realize that we park in parking lots every damn day!?!  Almost as interesting as finding out the truck is too wide fit at the drive up ATM. Hmmm. Back-up assist is pretty cool, as long as you don't need to make any sharp turns...um, we have yet to back the camper into a campsite without angling around trees and rocks. We also discovered it's a good idea to make sure the four wheel drive is actually engaged when you switch modes, otherwise the truck makes a funny (not ha ha) noise. Oops.

The biggest learning curve? You guessed it, technology.

   Who knew technology could involve so much swearing? I may have even invented a few new words. We might have these gadgets figured out by the time the truck is paid off...in two centuries. I'm beginning to suspect I may be techno-amish.

  Our truck came with all the usual stuff that vehicles built in the last decade now include as standard -voice control operation, satellite radio, navigation, and the all important bluetooth features that allows you to operate your phone through the automobile. Now, if it only came with idiots to operate the technology. Oh, we managed to pair our phones with ease. It was the user part that wasn't so smooth.

Call mom.

I'm sorry, I cannot find that contact.

Play radio.

Unable process that command at this time.

Navigate.

Where would you like to go.

(Insert destination).

I'm sorry, I couldn't verify that address. You will have to input manually when it is safe to do so.

Seriously, what the hell good are you?

I'm sorry, I don't recognize that command.

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH.

Recalculating your destination.

   We thought we were getting the hang of it, until today's techo-amish moment. When my husband was getting ready to leave for work, the truck automatically paired with my phone. Android Auto turned on and started my music app. I waved to my husband and signed to him through the front window, asking if he could hear my music. Not understanding what I wanted, he tried calling me. I answered, but he couldn't hear me. You guessed it, the truck picked up the call, so all he could hear was himself, talking to himself over the speakers.

   Watching his mounting frustration, I nearly died of laughter. By the time my husband figured out what was happening, I had tears rolling down my face and couldn't breath. I may have left a puddle in the living room. (Too bad our Christmas Tree is artificial.) I only knew he went to work because a short time later my phone informed me that the truck was out of range for bluetooth. No kidding?

   I'm sure we will figure this all out. But in the meantime, if you happen to see a black pickup wandering about rural Iowa, please don't call me. By the time I figure out how to answer, I will have to relearn engaging the four wheel drive to get out of the ditch and chances are my navigation won't recalculate.

To Treat or to Trick?

  I really do enjoy Halloween. I like to see the kids all dressed up, going from door to door begging for candy, chips, and soda. (My neighborhood tends to be generous). I love the interaction with my neighbors and their kids, even their teenagers, maybe especially their teenagers who have some of the wittiest replies and often provide me with greatest entertainment. These are the same kids who are asking for the keys to their parent's cars even as they try to hold on to some of their childhood. The irony isn't lost on me.

    This year, however, mother nature was in no mood to cooperate. Three inches of wet sloppy stuff on my driveway did not bode well. Still, I cleared it all so I could go out and buy the required candy for the next day's festivities. I heard somewhere that handing out broccoli just doesn't go over really well. Besides, I was pretty sure the broccoli was past the edible date.

Later that day, due to pending snowstorm, the village postponed Trick O'Treating until Saturday.

   It was fine by me,  having the event on a Saturday makes more sense than a school night and it's not like the candy will go bad in a few days. Nor will it all be consumed between Thursday and Saturday. I have enough clout (and willpower) to prevent the inhabitants of my house from gobbling down our sugary hoard. Better weather would mean the kids would have more fun and possibly be able to show off their costumes a little. Right?

   Evidently there were a lot of people who would disagree with me. I saw a lot of social media posts from parents who were going to bundle their kids up and take them anyway. After all, they braved the elements when they were young and they weren't going to ruin their kid's fun. They weren't raising a bunch of wusses. Nor did they feel it appropriate to move the date. Halloween is October 31st, not some day in November!

SAY WHAT?

   I was a bit baffled by this logic. They seriously want to bundle up their kids and march them around in high winds, snow, and sleet for a bag of candy when they could enjoy the festivities at a later, more weather friendly date? And just how is marching around in sleet and snow fun? I admit, I'm not a big cold weather fan, but I can't imagine any kid "enjoying" being bundled up to trudge around while freezing for bite sized chocolate bars. Seems like a nasty trick to play on a kid.

   If you're worried about your kids becoming wusses, maybe you should consider bundling them up and going out with them to shovel neighborhood driveways the next time school is out for inclement weather (some places still call them snow days). If you're going to suffer and make your children suffer with you, helping your neighbors is far more noble cause than a bag of candy. You can build stamina and strong communities at the same time.

   As for moving the date, why not? Business Trick O'Treating, Halloween parades, and coffin races are generally held on the weekend prior to Halloween, not necessarily on the actual date, and parents don't seem to have a problem taking their kids to these events. Moreover, the village didn't push out the holiday, just the door to door Trick O'Treating portion. There were still numerous indoor activities that didn't include cold wet clothes, heavy boots, scarves, or frostbite.

Is braving this....

Worth this?

   Then there were the posts from parents who were going to double dip and go Trick O'Treating both days!!!

I have to ask, what exactly are we teaching our kids?

Flatbed Felony

The truck died. As in "up and turned itself off, stopped moving and wouldn't turn back on" died.

It's a pretty specific form of death.

Ok, Ok, Ok already!

   At least I was in a parking lot. It could have been a whole lot worse. I could have been at the traffic light several blocks prior, where it had decided to make new and unusual noises, loud enough to be heard over the radio. If you've ever heard me play the radio, you understand these new engine noises ranked up there with sonic booms. It was the lack of noise, however, that proved to be a problem. A dead truck is a quiet truck.

   A kind stranger helped me push it into a parking spot. Yep, just the two of us. We were both wondering where the strapping young men were who are adept at this type of activity were hiding. I had to admit, I thought the father of two was quite powerful, but compared to my 5'2", just about anyone looks taller and tougher than me. I did help push. It wasn't going to budge without two of us applying muscle.

   Thankfully, I have been good about working out lately, because it took all those arm muscles and a bit of core muscle just to turn the wheel so we could place the truck in the closest spot between two other vehicles. We were very proud of ourselves. Not everyone can push around a pick up truck.

Did I mention the truck stopped on an upward slope?

   After thanking this helpful stranger, I went in the building and spent the next hour teaching 4th graders. It was the first day of RE classes (catechism classes), and I figured calling the tow truck could wait. The truck was in a parking lot. Where was it going to go? (Well, I did accidently leave it unlocked, maybe with the hopes that someone would steal it, but I suspect thieves don't steal vehicles that don't run. It was still there when I came out of class.)

   Again, I reminded myself, things could have been worse. After all, the truck has broken down in far more unfortunate locations, like...

• The side of the road
• The middle of the road
• Ditches
• The middle of nowhere

   A parking lot? No problem. Well, kinda no problem. The parking lot was fairly clear once classes let out, but after calling AAA I had to convince other drivers coming to later events to kindly NOT park next to my vehicle so the tow truck would have an easier time extracting it from the space. Some of them weren't too happy with me.

   In between making new friends in the parking lot, I tried to start the truck, just for giggles. There were no giggles. Thank heavens for AAA. We've had this service for years and I highly recommend it. In our case we have the platinum coverage, because not only are we good at breakdown, but we have managed to do so with a trailer in tow! We're not amatures. 

I had the truck towed home where I prayed for lightning or a tornado.

Unfortunately, inclement weather wasn't offering assistance. When I woke up the next morning, the stupid rust bucket was still sitting in the driveway.

Sigh.

   If only the truck could have waited another week. We were getting ready to trade it in for a newer model. One less than twenty years old. It was as if the SUV in the garage told the pickup truck what we were doing and it broke down in protest. Either that or it got wind of a check hitting the bank account. I'm convinced that vehicles can sense when even the slightest increase in funds occurs.

You want to know what was wrong with the truck?  We got a paycheck.

   I suspect with a newer model truck, matters will only get worse. Now equipped with bluetooth, internet, and data capabilities, I'm betting these vehicles will not only be able to monitor financial institutions remotely, but they'll also have the ability to transfer funds directly to the service facility of their choosing. Nothing like having a flatbed committing a felony.

Is that all it does?

I may have to take out Swiss bank accounts under an alias if I want to have any savings whatsoever.

   Still, I love pick-em-up trucks. They haul, they push, they pull, they handle rugged terrain, and best of all, they look good when they're covered with dirt. They are my favorite vehicles and I can't imagine life without them. What other form of transportation offers a bed that doesn't have to be made?

   A new(er) one is going to look really good in my drive. Just as soon as I figure out what to do with the silent one sulking there. I don't suppose we're due for an earthquake any time soon...

Dinner Dilemma

Everyday I'm asked the same dreaded question... What's for dinner?

   Like I sit around all day thinking, "Gee, wonder what I'll make for dinner today?" And I'm always asked this question about twenty minutes before everyone in the house hits starvation critical and is ready to blow up things. As if I'm the dinner God and have a magical selection of dinners ready to whip out of my butt at moment's notice.

I don't.

A fact everyone should be grateful for since dinners (and all other meals) should not be coming out of any rear openings.

   While I do think about food throughout the day, it's not often in conjunction with actual meal planning. On my better days, I combine ingredients in the crock pot in the morning, set the temperature, and come evening time, look like a rock star. A slightly frazzled and over caffeinated rock star, but a popular one who has food to serve before household occupants start chewing on the furniture. Some days I'm more successful at this than others.

   Perhaps I have brought this dilemma on myself by occasionally making premade meals which can be retrieved from the refrigerator and heated up in the microwave in mere seconds. It's a testimony to the true depth of my laziness and unwillingness to actually make myself a meal come mealtime.

   I spend a lot of time with me, myself, and I, which contributes to my lack of interest in meal preparation. Who wants to spend time and effort making a meal for one that will be consumed in mere minutes. By comparison, making a meal for say - the entire family - takes considerably more time and effort, yet it is also is devoured in roughly the same abbreviated time frame as the solo meal. As a result, I eat a lot of fruit. You would think the rest of my family would take the hint and simply belly up to the fruit bowl. But no, they seem to think we should have regular full blown meals.

Every. Single. Day.

   None of which they make. Worse yet, it's not just dinner either. I get requests for things like lunch and (gasp) breakfast. Here I thought breakfast was just stuff on a plate to go along with coffee.

  Today's request was lunch. As we were driving home from church my daughter asked what we were having for lunch. Cause that's something I always consider while listening to the new noise our truck has decided to make. I'm wondering if there isn't a cat in the engine...

Today, I decided to turn the tables. I asked her what ideas she had for lunch. HAH!

   Kiddo wasn't falling for it. She said if she came up with the ideas I would want her to make the lunch. (Damn, plan foiled!) Turns out she is as lazy as I am when it comes to making meals. The apple truely doesn't fall far from the tree. If it did, we would probably starve to death.

   After some discussion, we settled on pancakes. In my house this is an easy meal that involves a box, minimal ingredients, a griddle, and a blender. No sense in making more work than necessary. The griddle covers two burners which means multiple pancakes can be cooked at one time. With the blender you need neither exert the effort stirring the ingredients nor concern yourself with cleaning afterward as this handy appliance can go in the dishwasher where it will be washed and live with all the other clean dishes in our house until the armageddon.

Meal prep isn't the only chore avoided in this house.

If nothing else, we are consistent.

   I declared I would only make the pancakes if she helped. So together we pulled out the box and three ingredients needed to dump in the blender. That was when my girl asked if I thought the milk was any good. I was pretty sure it was, but our fridge has been known in the past to sport stringy green items that are NOT green beans. There is a reason for the magnet.

   She suggested we pour a little bit in the sink to see if it was lumpy. Lumpy milk is never a good ingredient for pancakes. So I did.

   After which we both looked at each other and agreed to never speak of this moment again. No one would need to know what we did, at least not until Mom blogs about it and shares it across several streams of social media for everyone and their second cousin to read.

 For anyone who is curious, it was not lumpy and we had pancakes.

   There were even leftovers for one of those handy readymade meals I'm so well known for making.

Score one for meal planning.

We put the milk back in the fridge.

   If you happen to stop by and are thirsty, I suggest the orange juice, or perhaps a cup of coffee. There's several varieties of coffee and we have reusable filters for our Keurig (because even coffee shouldn't be a lot of work)!

If you're hungry, well, there's fruit.

Nailed it!

 
   Today I asked my teenager to mow the lawn. It seemed like the perfect day for lawn mowing, not too hot, not too cold and not too wet. Her schedule wasn't especially busy either, so it seemed like a good opportunity for her tackle this chore. It had been over two weeks since the last time she did her "Weekly Mowing Chore."

   I haven't been too fussy about chores since school started this week, however this one I wanted done before we had more rain and the grass had time to grow all the way up to my knees. Mind you, this isn't a great distance by any stretch of the imagination, but I didn't want to have to start taking a machete with me to go collect the mail. It's a matter of principal and the grass was getting high enough that the wildlife was beginning to see our yard as a refuge.

Okay, so I exaggerate a little bit...

There weren't any actual deer in the yard, but I was expecting one any day.

   First I was met with excuses and arguments. When I failed to be moved though debate, she changed tactics and promised me she would mow tomorrow. I was not to be swayed. I've had two weeks of tomorrows which were inevitably filled with rain when they finally arrived. There wasn't any rain in the forecast, but I wasn't taking any chances. Besides, I didn't want to ruin the church picnic, and if she didn't mow, it was sure to rain.

After this she flat out told me she was NOT mowing the lawn today.

As you might have guessed, this went over really well with me.

 
   Fifteen minutes later, the shed was unlocked, the mower had gas, and properly attired, the kid was pushing said mower over the long grasses waving in the late August breeze. At least she didn't try to contend the dress policy we have requiring jeans, gloves and athletic shoes to mow. Not that she would have won that argument either. I'm not a parent to be trifled with.

   In the book I recently finished writing, her doppleganger wound up being left on another planet.

She's lucky I don't actually own a spaceship.

   To hide my joy at parental victory, I decided to vacuum the living room and dining room. That's when I realized my vacuum had a nail in it. Not a small nail either, but a rather large four inch nail. I'm not entirely sure just how this nail got there, but I thought it might be a good idea to take it out, just in case I tripped while vacuuming and accidentally impaled myself on it. It could happen. If you've ever seen me in action, you would understand.

   Unfortunately, the nail was rammed through the plastic suction pipe from the inside, making it impossible for me to simply pull out.

   I found it puzzling. To achieve its current position, the nail had to travel through two tight bends then turn itself sideways in order to pierce the tube wall, all of which is physically impossible based on the size of the nail and the dimensions of the piping from which it emerged. In order for me to remove the nail without doing a great deal of damage to the plastic pipe (or comb through the garage for metal snips) I would have to break the same pesky scientific laws that said it was impossible for the nail to be there in the first place. While this scientific dilemma doesn't actually trouble me too much (I like to write science fiction, so I bend the properties of physics all the time and I'm fairly certain the scientific community would roll their eyes at me), it was certain to take up more time than I was willing to commit to nail removal.

   I opted instead to empty the debris canister, vacuum carefully, and put it put the appliance away so I could go outside and admire my freshly mowed lawn. I would deal with both the nail and scientific laws at some point in the future. This option proved to be infinitely more satisfying than searching the garage for a useful nail removing tool and working on my vacuum.

Life is good, if sometimes a bit odd. Looking at my beautifully mowed lawn, I'd say I nailed it!

Electrical tape and Male Bandaging

  So my husband comes home from work the other day with electrical tape wrapped around his finger. Since I'm the person who generally doesn't ask questions to which I don't want the answers, I studiously ignored the tape darkened extremity for sometime before curiosity finally got the better of me and I asked: What's up with the tape on your finger?

   The answer - I cut my finger.

   Well of course he did. I should have known, after all, electrical tape is the go to solution when you cut appendages. Right up there with using gaffers tape to fix a hole in your pants. Silly me.

Maybe it's a man thing. When I cut my finger I usually use a band-aid.

   I was informed that electrical tape was the perfect solution. After all, it did stop the bleeding and he didn't have to interrupt what he was doing to go look for a band-aid. Besides, electrical tape is hypoallergenic.

WHAT???

   Okay, that was a new one on me, but then again, there are a lot of things I don't know (don't tell my husband). Naturally, I couldn't take his word, I had to look up if electrical tape really was hypoallergenic. According to Google, there is no evidence that electrical tape is hypoallergenic. Furthermore, Zachary Ljubicich, Master of Ceremonies at Empaths Incorporated  (the expert Google directed me to on matters such as these) explains that tape actually can be toxic - if you were to say, wrap yourself as a mummy with it. Not that I've ever considered wrapping myself as a mummy using electrical tape (or any other kind of tape for that matter), but just in case the notion strikes your fancy, it's not a good idea to use tape as mummy wrapping on a live human being. Moreover, he warns that tapes can "prevent your body from swearing in the areas of application." 

   Yes, that's what it said. Google it yourself if you don't believe me.

I was ecstatic. I've been trying to cut down on my swearing, now it seems the solution was within my grasp.  I went out in the garage to grab some tape.

   We had all kinds of tapes, but sadly, no electrical tape. So I settled for the cool green stuff instead. Carefully I taped my fingers to see if it would prevent me from swearing when I typed.

WTF?

   Holy crap, it worked! Who knew? As you can see above, all I could manage to type were the initials to my favorite swearing phrase. If simple green tape could do that, imagine what electrical tape might do...

   I began to dream up all kinds of applications for tape. Like putting tape on my cell phone. Auto correct is constantly changing words in my texts to ones I do not intend, and being the lousy proof reader I am, messages often get sent with the wrong connotation. Since my phone already boasts of several cracks,(including the crackpot using the phone) taping might serve more than one purpose.

  Encouraged, by what I had learned so far, I continued reading the information provided by Master Google. It read: "this could have a very negative effect on your health if used in a location that is supposed to sweat out toxins."

   Well f#@k that. The whole reason I swear it to get toxic thoughts and ideas OUT of my head instead remaining stuck inside my brain which is already filled with bad ideas and not so safe suggestions. 

   Further research on electrical tape also informed me that some brands of vinyl electrical tape come with a warning: This product contains one or more chemicals known to the State of California to cause cancer and birth defects or other reproductive harm. Wash hands after handling.

Which makes me wonder, why is it only known to the State of California?

   Soooo anyway, back to the conversation with my husband... He decided while we were discussing the tape on his finger that he probably should pull it off. He did and it promptly began bleeding. I told him that the tape probably wasn't such a good idea after all since the adhesive appeared to have stuck to his skin and pulled the cut open when he pulled off the tape. I suggested next time he put something over the cut before taping it, like gauze.

   He dismissed the notion with a laugh, asking me who was going to carry electrical tape and gauze?

   Why do I even try?

Nosey Parenting

   I recently read a post that intrigued me...

What is the oddest thing you have done as a parent?

   Parents and children alike shared their experiences. There were some pretty funny comments as well as some that had me raising an eyebrow. I like to think of myself as a good parent. I'm involved, supportive, a little strict, and eyerollingly embarrassing - all things I believe make up good parenting. However after scrolling through the stories, I came to the conclusion I was also a really boring parent.

   Just when I was starting to worry about my classification in the parenting world, I was reminded of an incident that set me straight. Well several incidents, actually. Apparently I have a plethora of things I have done over the years that could be construed as odd. I hadn't thought of my actions as odd at the time, but in retrospect, perhaps maybe some were a little on the unusual side. At any rate, it meant I was definitely not boring. After all, I did kinda go ballistic over Kleenex.

Kleenex. 

   Sure, everyone has Kleenex in their house. A box of relief for a stuffed up nose. Relief that doesn't have to be folded and shoved in a pocket and washed at some later time after it has become crusted and hard. It's a household fixture with numerous brands available for the discerning nose. Have you ever tried taking a used hanky from a kid's pocket? Trust me, you just don't want to know!

   As handy and convenient as the magic box of kleenex is, anyone who has had kids knows how frustrating the seemingly simple tissues can be. Sniffle, pull a tissue, toss, sniffle, pull a tissue, toss, sniffle, pull a tissue, toss - repeat. Until the garbage is overflowing with hardly dampened thin paper cloths. Boxes and boxes of ever-so-slightly soiled paper filled our trash receptacles until I was finally overwhelmed. Something in me snapped.

 What does one do when you can no longer take the vast waste created by small snotty noses? 

   You have the offending child march right back to the garbage can and retrieve the ever-so-slightly used Kleenex and finish properly blowing their small wet nose!

Germs be damned! I didn't care what food was now attached to the tissue, it would not be wasted! Hey, a bit of dirt and debris builds the immune system, right?

   I guess that is not what most parents would do. In my defense, there were several children in the house at the time, creating a monumental pile of tissue waste. We could have started our own partially used kleenex factory! The other parental units in the house backed me up on this one. Maybe my method was slightly unorthodox, but like magic, our garbage was suddenly tissue free!

   

   I definitely recommend this strategy to other parents. It kills two birds with one stone. You save trees AND you give your kids something interesting to discuss with their therapist - or share on the internet with the entire world! Either way, it means you'll never have to worry about being classified as a boring parent.

After all, no one wants to be boring.

Now if I can just figure out how to get the teenage kid to turn off the lights...

Borderline disaster - Averted

   Can anyone guess where we went on vacation this year?

   If you guessed Canada, you would be correct. (Did the flags in the picture give it away?) It had been some time since my husband had visited the country (was it really over twenty years ago that we last visited on vacation?) and we thought it was time we go back. So we packed up the camper, loaded the truck with bikes, snacks and two teenagers (why take one when you can take two?) and headed for the border.

   The first night we camped on the U.S. side... because border crossing after a full day of travel in the truck just didn't seem like a good idea.

   The weather was great. We did lots of fun things and learned something new each day....

Like Canada considers the teens ADULTS!

   Seriously? One of the teens packed lightsabers and a nerf gun. I think I need to have a serious talk with the Canadian parks officials. I think I'll suggest a six hour car ride with two teens. I have a few I can loan them.

   We kept our trip distance relatively short, visiting Toronto to see the Royal Ontario Museum. Our timing was perfect as this was one of the hottest days of our trip! It was really cool (yes, pun
intended) and we spent the day exploring the exhibits.
 
   Afterward we managed to catch part of an Ultimate Frisbee match at the university next door. We're not talking just a bunch of college students playing frisbee out on the lawn, this was an actual sporting event complete with referees and fans in the bleachers. There was even a mascot! I had no idea this was a thing. Mesmerized, I watched the players race across the field, waiting for the tackle that never came. Still, it was cool to watch.

  Not be be kept indoors, the next day we hauled out those bikes we packed to ride along a beautiful lake...

  Looks so peaceful, doesn't it? Did I mention our trip coincided with Canada Day? For the uninformed, this is the equivalent of the 4th of July in the U.S. There was a carnival and music venue and people grilling out everywhere! Despite the holiday, things were not too crazy busy and we were able to relax and enjoy. We even got to see fireworks!

   

From Toronto we meandered over to Niagara and went into full tourist mode! I think I have seen nearly every aspect of the falls short of going over them in a barrel. Lit up falls at night were nifty, even if all I took were blurry pictures. More fireworks here too!

   Having stood in numerous lines and worn a number of ponchos, we spent our last two days lounging on a beach on Lake Erie.

   It was a relaxing end to an adventured filled vacation that almost didn't happen.

Yeah, you read that right.

We almost didn't make it into Canada.

   You see, our mode of transportation is starting to age. Bits of rust hold together much of the remaining exterior metal parts and the running boards have been reinforced with metal brackets. The leather interior is a bit tattered and the steering wheel is worn. All in all, at a distance, the truck looks pretty good. Even runs pretty good, if a bit loudly.

   The day we decided to cross the border into Canada was the day the truck decided to protest twenty years of towing and hauling. Driving over the bridge was no issue. There was no traffic and when we pulled up to customs, there was only one car ahead of us. It wasn't until we pulled to a complete stop at the stop sign to wait for the one car ahead of us to clear the booth, that the truck began to shudder and shake. The temperature gauge shot up past "H" and the service engine light ominously glowed orange.

   My husband put the truck in neutral and we looked at one another. There was swearing.  A bit of sweating. The car ahead of us pulled away from the booth and it was our turn. We shifted into drive and shuddered up to the officer who took our passports and asked us questions which we calmly answered as if we weren't expecting our vehicle to explode at any moment.

   Hours ticked by (okay, it was really minutes) before she handed the passports back and told us to have a nice day and enjoy our trip. I think we responded in kind. Putting the truck in gear once more we coughed and shook our way into town which seemed a million kilometers away (Canada, of course). Luckily for us, the first gas station we spotted had ample room in the back for us to park the truck and camper. Jeremy turned off the vehicle and we both broke into laughter.

   A few liters of premixed antifreeze later, all was well. We were baffled. There was no leak. Readings on the temperature gauge were normal. Since our AAA was good in Canada, we decided to chance it and carry on. A few days later the service engine light turned itself off. We kept checking the fluid levels, but all was fine.

I guess you could say it was a borderline disaster, averted.

A case of Teenagers

 

The door to my daughter's room is closed all the time. 

  Evidently I'm not supposed to open it.

   Morning are later than usual. I keep finding empty glasses and dishes everywhere. All the lights are on in every room of the house, all the time, as if we were running a lighthouse. I'm missing clothes, jewelry, shoes, tights, even jackets. My IQ seems to have dropped and there is often a vacant stare behind my eyes accented by frequent bouts of inane questions like "Did you pick up your socks?" and "Have you brushed your teeth?"

It seems I've contracted a case of teenagers.

   I'm told it's not serious and that it usually passes... in about ten to fifteen years, after which I should regain my normal IQ. In the meantime, I simply have to suffer with the symptoms:

• Lack of floor in said teenagers room.
• Lack of hot water in the house.
• Late mornings - or possibly even early afternoons before anything gets started.
• Repeating myself.
• Last minute requests for needed items such as soap, hot chocolate, permission slip forms to be signed, rides to friends houses and groceries.
• Thimble full of milk in the refrigerator.
• Socks at the front door.
• Repeating myself.
• Piles of shoes at all entrances.
• Watering can left in the middle of the yard.
• Repeating myself.
• Text requests for blueberries while I'm out with friends.
• Stuff left on my desk/bed/dresser/convenient flat surfaces that I asked to be put away.
• Large electric bills and increased frequency buying light bulbs. (I sure hope those ships appreciate safe passage!)

Did I mention I repeat myself often? It's hard to remember once your IQ starts to drop.

   I comfort myself with all of the good things that come with having teenagers. For one, they know EVERYTHING! Who needs Google, Alexa or Siri when you have a teenager? I recommend there should be at least one in every household. They don't even require WiFi to provide you with the answers, although I have found they use up quite a bit of bandwidth.

   Most teenagers at some point can drive! Miss an ingredient for dinner... send a teenager to go get it for you. Need something dropped off? Just jangle your keys. Forgot to gas the car up? No problem, just hold out your keys and credit card. My teenager is just about to enter the drive stage, so I'm pretty excited.

   Teenagers can be pretty damn funny too. My teenager is equipped with a wicked sense of humor and a fairly quit wit (if you can get past the chicken butt joke). For example, the other day my teenager told me how self-sufficient she is. My sides hurt and I'm still wiping away tears.

   

Another added perk...Teenagers can mow lawns!

   Way cool since my last lawn mowing experience involved a sprained ankle. Note proper attire of jeans, gloves and shoes to do the job. I'm patting myself on the back on this one since today she mowed the lawn without even being prompted! I may need medical treatment for a broken arm later.

   On top of all this, I've discovered teenagers also have unique skills that are effecting the evolution of the human species. I have a teenager that can eye roll all the way back into last week! If she were reading this right now, she would be reading it out of the back of her head. Impressive, right?

   Fortunately, my case of teenagers doesn't appear to be serious. I'm told my public teenager is well behaved, social, and quite nice. I haven't had the opportunity to see this, heaven forbid we appear in public at the same time, but I have credible sources. At home there's not much sass these days (I attest this to my skills with a Nerf gun) and eye rolls are kept to a minimum. We have already located the floor in her room (well, most of the time) and she only has to be reminded to practice her instruments three or four times a day. There are three or four instruments, so I guess the ratio is one to one. The teenager hangout downstairs (formerly the playroom) is also presentable even if there are occasional stray glasses or bowls. We have also made progress in introducing her to the dishwasher, so there are fewer plates in the sink next to said appliance.

Now if I could just find my shirts....

Father's Day - more than just a character

 This is my husband....

   He a father and a son, a hard worker and a good husband. So it took me by surprise when he asked me if I've ever written a character about him.

   Seriously. He's read my work. How could he not know? I write about him all the time! My stories are loaded with male characters. So I asked myself, what male character doesn't include some aspect of him?

Okay, there are the bad guys.

He is definitely not one of them.

 There are only a few bad guys, really nasty individuals who make things difficult for the rest of the beings in the stories, but offsetting these few despicable characters, there are a lot of good guys. That is where I see my husband. 

   Oh sure, they have flaws. They can be cantankerous and selfish. Sometimes they struggle with their faith. They start fights, insult one another, make poor decisions and get into trouble. However they are so much more than their shortcomings.

   

   The men in my story are hard workers. They put in long hours, often going without sleep. They make sacrifices, putting in the well being of others ahead of themselves. They use their talents and treasure for the benefit of those around them. They take risks, even when they know those risks could cost them the very things they treasure the most. They love, they laugh, and they cry.

   The men in my stories are friends, sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers. They're loyal to their families and to one another. They stand up for those who cannot defend themselves and they do what

is right, regardless of the consequences. They are men who are faithful, dependable, and true.

   I have a wonderful father who is an awesome role model, a great brother full of spirit and spunk, but perhaps the greatest gift in my life is my husband. Yep, he can be crabby. Sometimes he says things that upset me. Occasionally I would like to toss him from a moving car...

But most of all, he's my good guys, all rolled into one. Happy Father's Day to the man I know will read this - after all, he is my primary editor and reads all my work.

.

Even in Hell they have hot water

   Everyone has days that are full of ups and downs, but some seem to have more downs than usual. Sometimes we persevere, sometimes we wind up standing in the back yard, soaking wet and swearing...

I think you know where I was.

   It's a pretty good indicator you are not going to have a good day when your spouse wakes you up to help move furniture because water is spilling over from the crawl space and starting to puddle in the playroom. Honestly, I did check to make sure the sump pump was working before I went to bed the night before because I saw the ark float past my house just before sundown. Everything was in working order. However, sometime in the wee morning hours (when I was having the mother of all nightmares), the pump float got stuck and the pump stopped ejecting water outside the house.

Yep, we now had an indoor wading pool.

   After quickly relocating items and placing furniture up on crates, my darling spouse slogged through several inches of water in our crawl space to inspect the pump and promptly got it working.

Apparently the float was stuck on the power cord. Ummm, really? After watching the water begin to subside, I decided to have a cup of coffee while my grumpy husband went back to bed. (Did I mention furniture moving and water management included an argument?) It was going to be a little while before I could start clean up detail.

   Less than half a cup of coffee later, there is a knock at the door. My neighbor came over to let me know the hose that attached to the drain for the sump pump had become detached and was now flooding the back of the house and he was worried it might spill into the basement. I thanked him and headed to the back yard dressed in sweats and tee shirt - there seemed no need to waste time putting on socks and shoes, after all, it was drizzling and the ground was soaked and I was mostly likely going to be standing in a puddle. Good call on my part!

  I was not only standing in a puddle, but I wound up taking a shower as I reconnected the hose to the evacuation drain sticking out of the house. If you have ever tried to connect a hose while the water is running, you can pretty much guess just how cold and wet and miserable I was. Sorry, no photo, but no one would dare come near me with a camera! Having thus showered and exhausted my colorful vocabulary, I went into the house to my now cold coffee and decided to revive myself in a stream of hot water in an actual shower stall.

Unfortunately the water was lukewarm.

   Evidently the water had gotten high enough to knock out the pilot light on the water heater. I can't remember if I actually used soap, but I hightailed it out of the shower and went downstairs to try and relight the pilot light. No dice. My charming and delightful spouse also had no luck. Yes, I woke him. No one should have this much fun alone. After still more cursing, we had no success. 

My husband went to work.

I put on work clothes and got busy with clean up.

   There was a fan going to dry out the crawl and I had begun the task of mopping when it was time to pick up my nephew from school. He readily agreed to help me put the room back to rights, but I decided to take a break. It was no longer raining so it seemed like a good time to get the mail. While I was heading to the mail box, a car pulled up and an elderly driver asked me for directions, which I cheerfully gave. With a thank you, he asked me if the house I was standing in front of was mine and when I told him it was, he complimented me on the flowers.

   Then the conversation took an odd turn when he asked me if I hurt my leg (to those who don't know me, I wear a brace), to which I said no, my leg simply didn't work right. (It really was none of his business and I was politely brushing him off.)

 His response:"I don't believe you."

WHAT THE F#@K?

Did this dude seriously just call me a liar?

After asking me for directions?

Some folks just know how to make your day!

"Tina, behave yourself this week."

   Those were the last words spoken to me before I left church on Sunday. My husband thought it was pretty funny the deacon should say this to me. Maybe he was inspired by God. These words now were echoing in my head, swirling around images of this guy's body laying in the street.

It seemed like an hour before I was able to formulate a reply that didn't involve any expletives.

"I hope you have a nice day."

   I managed to plant a smile, though an insincere one, on my disbelieving face when I spoke those words. I continued my journey to the mail box, while this guy proceeded to back up into the intersection full of cars and do a U-turn. I now know why he had a handicapped placard hanging from the mirror of his car.

  Seeing as my day wasn't improving, I decided to call in help to look at the water heater. It wasn't as if I had been having much luck on my own. I was really needing a shower that involved both soap and HOT water.

The only thing I managed to rekindle was my temper.

   Dad and I had a shouting match in the garage. Something about how the water tank getting wet was my fault and we didn't have the right garage light. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but I think the doors buckled outward. When we both cooled down we determined that the insulation in the bottom of the hot water heater was just too wet to allow the spark to restart the pilot light. Dad suggested I sit there with a hair dryer to try and dry the mess out. I politely (or not so politely) declined.

  I also declined the suggestion I take a nice bath with a glass of wine to relax from my frustrating day. I'm just not that into cold water.

   Instead, I turned on a fan hoping to dry out the hot water heater and called it a night. Even I can only come up with so much creative language and I had not only exhausted my colorful vocabulary, but I was beat from lack of sleep and trying to unsuccessfully maintain my unfortunately short temper. Hey, I got all my usual chores done, taught class, and put the playroom back together. That has to count for something!

   Fortunately, the next day proved to be a good one (even though it was still raining). No more flooding. No more swearing. And best of all - the pilot light lit! My husband breathed a sigh of relief.

Or maybe he just resumed breathing because I was able to take a shower. Either way, works for me.