Soiled at 10 and 2

Today I was driving around on my normal chauffeur route, squeezing the errands in between.

I drove up to the bank drive thru, and as I sat in my car next to the pneumatic chute waiting for the receipt to come back, I realized my hands felt sticky (no, not like the lady in my WWUD post). 

Upon inspection, I realized my fingers were black. I surveyed the steering wheel and immediately discovered the source of my problem.

Black, sticky splotches of paint were strategically located in the 10 and 2 position on the back of my steering wheel, but now smeared blotchily around the steering wheel and my hands.

*Important background info that I knew* 1. The last time I drove my car I took it to the car wash, which I rarely do, but sooooo enjoy the aftereffects.   2. My husband used my car after I took it to the car wash and had to open our recently painted gate to drive my car through. (you guessed it - I don't have to tell you what color the gate was painted!)

I was pissed (putting it mildly).  The whole momentarily pristine state of my car was sullied.  I lost my 'moment'.  

I started fumbling for wet wipes, trying not to distribute the lovely blackness any more than necessary. Once I got the deposit slip, I slowly pulled into the closest parking space in order to clean up, take a breath and plot revenge on the guilty culprit.

I got it together and moved on.

When I got home, my home phone was ringing. Here's the phone conversation that followed, and this is absolutely true:

"Hello, this is Rena, the manager from the Wachovia branch you visited today."

"Okay" - immediately scrolling through my memory banks - did I leave my card in the machine again?

Rena: The teller who helped you today said that when you left the drive thru, you did not have a smile on your face. We were concerned that you did not receive excellent service.

Me - stunned : Uhhhh, the service was fine. I had other issues within my car.

Rena: So, is there any way we could have improved your service today?

Me, so in shock that I can't come up with anything snappy: No, I don't think so.

Really?!?

Is my bank now concerned about my emotional health? I find this whole phone call hard to swallow. I still haven't figured out the underlying angle. They can't actually be interested in customer service after all these years of not caring.  The economy must be horrible if the bank is actually having to resort to positive customer experience in order to retain clientele.

This personal service is making me uncomfortable.

Story of a Princess

This story is based entirely on actual events that have occurred in the life of my friend, Gem and her boyfriend, Duke.

Gem was born in a small town in Georgia. Gem was always bigger than the life she was born into. She loves to travel and has an appreciation for the finer things in life.

Into Gem's life, Duke sauntered. Duke was born in Nigeria to a prominent family. He is now living in Georgia and in Nigeria, where he maintains three homes.

Life in Nigeria is far different than life in America. Duke is accustomed to such things as having his underwear ironed. He has one person on his staff in one of his homes whose only job is to reset the switch (equivalent to flipping a breaker) whenever the power goes out.

Duke quickly swept Gem off her feet and they were drawn together into a full-swing romance, traveling frequently all over Europe and Africa.

After a year together, they decided to establish Duke's American residence in Gem's home. They officially moved in together, though he still had his three homes in Nigeria and work there kept him in Africa quite often.

During one particular extended stay, Duke walked into their Georgia home from the garage. He was overtly upset as he slammed the door.

He said to Gem, "something's wrong with the light in the garage."

She asked, "is the lightbulb burned out?"

He said, "I don't know. Can you get somebody to fix it?"

Upon further inspection, Gem realized it was simply a matter of changing a light bulb.

Gem said to Duke, "I'm on my way out. You can change the bulb - there are new bulbs in the cabinet, " and she left.

Duke was panicked. Duke had no idea how to change a lightbulb. Duke went to Gem's twelve year-old-niece and asked her how to change the lightbulb.

I dont' think I have to spell out who the actual princess is in this story.

I must admit. My son is afraid of any work. What I'm really saying here is, "I'm afraid my son may also be a princess."

Update on the whole horse debacle . . .

If you didn't read the previous post - this is just a follow-up.  

It was pretty anticlimactic.  

After many calls to Edna where she never answered, I loaded the kids into the car to drive over there with our gardening gloves and grubby jeans.  We knocked on her door to report for duty - still no answer.  I was beginning to worry about her.

We walked back to the barn and peaked into the stalls to see what was in store for us.

Those stalls were unbelievably, spotlessly clean.

So, we left, and I continued to call Edna until she finally returned my call.

This time it was a whole different story.  Her voice was bright and chipper, and she said she felt much better and had no problem now taking care of the horses.

So, it's the thought that counts, right?  I mean, I was willing to help her, and I didn't just hang up the phone originally, pretending that I didn't understand her, like my husband said to do.

So, God, do I still get all the points as if I had actually done the dirty deed of cleaning up behind the majestic creatures that are so much nicer when you don't have to clean up behind them?

I'm not sure though if I actually believe in domesticating animals like this.  Would I get more points for sneaking around at night and letting all the locked up horses run free?

Oh No!

Yesterday I phoned my friend, Lane,  to let her know about the health of a mutual friend.

Lane still lives in a different time period than the rest of us.  She barely uses her cell phone. She barely emails.  I'm sure she has no idea what a blog is.  Her kids are in high school and, of course, techno savvy, but somehow she missed the whole technology bandwagon.  

Anyway, when I called her home phone, her mother-in-law, Edna, answered and told me that Lane was in Costa Rica.  I had forgotten about their family vacay this week.

I was about to hang up the phone when Edna, in a highly distressed tone, said, "Wait!!!"

She then asked if I knew who usually took care of Lane's horses.

I said, "no, why?"

Edna said (very distressed tone): "I can't do it any more.  I'm supposed to take care of them, but I'm 80 years old, and it has really messed up my arthritis.  I'm in so much pain.  I don't know what to do."

Me: "Gulp."  

Now, I'm trying to think of a way out of going over there and cleaning stalls.  What could I possibly say other than I'll be over to help you, poor little old lady?  I barely have time for my own life - now I have to become a farm hand? What the hell is Lane thinking?

I told her to do some research? (well, what would you have said?) and try to find out who helps Lane out.  I guess their cell phones don't work in Costa Rica.

So, I now have to call Edna in the a.m. to see how mad her research skillz are.  

Wish me luck, cause I'm thinking I'll be smelling like horse manure tomorrow evening.

DAMN!!!!  I didn't need extra chores this week!!!!

Haunted

When I went to see a movie the other day, I saw a preview for another movie. Well . . . I sort of watched it through my fingers. It was a scary movie.

This was a preview of a movie about a haunted house. These people buy a used house in Connecticut. The house is possessed by ghosts. There is a teenage boy who is also possessed by the ghost. I don't know what else happened, but it was scary. After this preview I vowed to never go to the state of Connecticut or even the adjacent states.

After watching this preview, I realized that maybe our house is haunted.

Incident #1: I had a 48 ounce bottle of Dr. Bronner's eucalyptus liquid soap in my shower, and it disappeared. It was a 48 ounce bottle, really - it was huge. It just vanished. No one in my house took it. It was not in the trash can. I even thought eucalyptus was some sort of ghost repellent, but perhaps it attracts ghosts, and this started the whole thing.

Incident #2: My son was possessed by the ghost and became obsessed with Mario Kart.

Incident #3: My daughter was possessed by the ghost and became obsessed with Facebook.

Occasionally, our cat is possessed by the ghost and bites whoever happens to be next to him.

My daughter is destined for greatness, or at least a close-up of some sort

I now know that my daughter is destined to be a famous movie star - on the big screen.

How do I know this, since she is only fourteen and not interested in acting?

I know this because we went to the orthodontist today, and he informed me of a procedure that she will be getting in the near future.  

There was no consultation before he told me this today.  There was no question about how far we want to go in order to achieve dental perfection.  There was no mention of the cost of this procedure or weighing our options.

I was told that after the next visit, if the exactly particular spacing has occurred between the specific teeth, then we will make an appointment immediately following that ortho appointment with a dentist.  

Have you ever tried to get an appointment with a dentist immediately for cosmetic reasons?

Once we have successfully performed the phenomenal task and been granted the appointment, we are supposed to come back into the ortho office to have a bracket removed from the offensive tooth.  Then, we are supposed drive over to the cosmetic dentist that will miraculously give us an emergency appointment for the procedure.  Once the cosmetic procedure has been completed to perfection (and I still have no idea how much that procedure will cost), we are supposed to drive back to the orthodontist to have the bracket put back on so that my daughter's destiny can be complete.

She will be ready for the close-ups that her profession will require.  Why else would they have me jump through all these hoops?

I'm not even sure I really believe in braces.  But, since this investment will eventually pay off and replenish our retirement fund through the movie star's earnings, I guess it's all worth it!