One of Us Has to Wait in the Snow

What goes around comes around.  I thought about that when Alley’s mom offered not only to drive us to Jenna’s school, but pick her up as well.  When I was driving I had stopped to pick up Jorge and his mom whenever I would see them walking to church.  I was also willing to drive them to other destinations as needed. I’ve given rides to various people for various reasons.  I actually haven’t had a problem with it so I don’t know why I’m having such an issue at the receiving end. 

Alley’s mom is a really good driver – unfortunately not all drivers are that careful behind the wheel.  If she were to get in an accident because she was out shuttling Jenna and me around, I would be quite bothered by it.  But I didn’t want to discourage her or take away from her act of kindness.  The last time she picked Jenna up from school, her own children nearly beat her home.

Jenna, who usually considers herself late for school if she hasn’t crossed the playground at least 30 minutes before school starts, would rather take the bus than be to school fifteen minutes before we would normally board the bus.  But I’m not always thrilled with the idea of having to return to the bus stop to wait in the freezing cold either.  And so we made a compromise.

Alley’s brother normally takes the bus to the junior high but during the cold months and elements, their mom has been dropping him off and has offered to take Jenna the rest of the way to her school as Vantanna really isn’t that far from Dwight Jr. High.

But as I mentioned in this post Alley’s school let’s out only five or ten minutes after Jenna’s and though they return to the neighborhood by way of school bus, the timing is not always convenient from my point of view.  I think she needs to be home for their return – though I do appreciate her willingness and have accepted her offer – I still am having a hard time with it.

Jenna, who also likes to dawdle (which I have mentioned here and here and probably another number of places) has been good about crossing the field on time.  But I think she is more bothered about crossing the field immediately after school than she is at arriving early.  And so we made a compromise

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We will ride with Alley’s mom in the morning and I will return for her by bus in the afternoon.  Roland hasn’t been coming home on time the last few nights and so I’m not worried about having his dinner ready (whenever I do, he’s late; whenever I don’t, he’s home on time – I can’t win)

I’m grateful to those people who serve others and assistance and genuine concern and kindness.

This morning I handed a card to Alley’s mom to thank her and let her know about the compromise between me and Jenna.  I am comfortable with it.  I hope that she is too.

The Break-Up Was Mutual . . . sort of

All throughout my married life there have been only two times in which we’ve had extra money.  Both times were actually in December – the year before Jenna turned one, and the year that Jenna had turned two.

We’d gone to a lot of used rental cars – loans aren’t made.  They want cash up front.  And seven years ago we just happened to have it. (Well, almost seven years)  We purchased a 2002 Buick Century.  And it has been a tremendously great car – mostly due to prayer, I believe.

When I had the car inspected for the 2011 renewal, I really thought that it would be the last time.  And yet it passed inspection last year.  The Lord knew that I needed it to drive to my mom’s and run errands – though I do remember Jenna and I having bussed it on occasion.  I don’t like to drive. 

I don’t know that I’ve ever enjoyed it. I do like the control that one has with personal transportation – so long as the car or truck is working.  Having unreliable transportation can be even more frustrating than waiting for public transportation.

On Saturday I took the Saturn – it was behind.  Two hours later Roland found himself in the driveway with the Buick and a dead battery.  It really didn’t come as a surprise to me as I had been leery of its driving ability just the day prior (well, actually the last eighteen months – just moreso on Friday) and had wondered at what point it would croak on us. 

The battery has been recharged.  I took it over to an honest mechanic who was willing to run a diagnostic but found in the computer I had gotten one last year and asked if I had gotten the fuel pump I needed for over a year now. 

“No.” I said sheepishly. 

Biff and I could both see the mechanics mouth drop to the floor before he asked how in the world we were able to drive it for all this time.

“Prayer.” I said.  I honestly believe that is what has kept it alive all this time.  “My mom passed away earlier this month and evidently I won’t need a car anymore.”

We are down to only one car and three drivers – two who work on a schedule.  Then there is still the matter of transporting Jenna to school.   I DON’T want to do what we did at the end of her second year at Vantana.  I DON’T want to drive in early with Roland and then go pick him up and wait for the duration for him to get off the phone (recruiting students for online university) I don’t particularly wish to weigh myself down to waiting for UTA – but in all honesty I’d really rather not deal with driving anymore.  I am tired of the weather, construction and other drivers.  And I’m sure there are plenty who will be happy to know I won’t be behind the wheel anymore.  Roland is not one of them however.

I had made arrangements for Biff to take Roland to work and Jenna to school.  After all, if he is using our car (and has been for nearly six months now) he needs to make sacrifices too.  But that would require my picking up Roland.  I’ve had too much stress on the road at that time of day.  He can drive himself and Jenna and I will take the bus.  At least we did this morning.  It worked out okay.  But it is a beautiful day outside.  And traffic was light (I probably could have driven; but I have enough troubles backing out of the driveway.  Backing up into the driveway (in case the car will need to be jump started again) would be a nightmare for me.

I’m okay with it right now.  I may feel differently when the weather changes again.  But driving in it wouldn’t thrill me either.  There are pros and cons either way.  Jenna and I will both get some needed exercise walking to and from the different bus stops.  We can cut the cost of our car insurance (though it appears that bus fare will be more) and best of all – I won’t have to drive. 

My Most Unfavorite Time of the Day

         I generally drop Jenna off at school a half hour before she needs to be there.  I also arrive on the lot before all other cars so as to not fight school traffic.  Jenna has always taken her time walking to school or across the field.  When I am the driver who is picking her up, I welcome her dawdling.  In first grade we were always the last car to leave the parking lot. I HATE school traffic.

        

         Kayla was looking for a sitter for her two and as Jenna’s school is the same distance from their house as it is from my own,  I figured I could watch them at Kayla’s house and then pick up Jenna.  I should have left her house the minute that Kayla came home. 

        It’s been four years since I had lived in that same neighborhood and wasn’t taking into account that the school in that area lets out a half hour earlier than Vantana.  Before I went out to my car (which was parked on the street) I saw the yellow bus pulled up by Kayla’s house.  I wasn’t aware that there was a bus stop on that street.

         The stop sign was out and lights were flashing.  It was behind me and I didn’t know if I had to wait for it or not.  I waited for just a bit until I realized that I wouldn’t be getting the attention of the bus driver really soon (as she was visiting with a parent) and as I was not passing the bus, I pulled forward through a maze of cars and dumpsters (that must have been really great fun for the bus driver)

         I have never liked the main street which is closest to street where Bill and Kayla live – nor the cross street at the second intersection.  Lights were blinking red indicating that traffic wouldn’t be moving at a rapid rate.  Ahead of that were the spaces of red X’s and green arrows and three lanes of broken yellow lines that always make me feel like I’m driving inside of a video game.  Perhaps it’s popular in bigger cities, but that is the only street I know of with that set up.

         What’s ironic is the street seemed desolate for decades.  I remember when my mom had driven out to her uncle’s house sometimes when her mom was in town.  The drive seemed sooo sooo long.  Now it’s congested and makes me tense. 

         Bus STOP sign, dumpsters, children, traffic lights and merging . . . What’s normally a ten minute drive took me eighteen minutes.  Fortunately I had given myself twenty.  But alas, I wasn’t the first one to arrive in the parking lot.  I was too late just to park in the shade.  But I didn’t have a long wait like I did when Jenna was in first grade.  Actually she’s been getting out to the car rather quickly.   Must be the seven habits.

Black and White: Tale of Two Cars

Black and White: Tale of Two Cars

We have two cars – each manufactured the same year.  One is a white Buick and the other is a black Saturn.

The electronics have gone on the Buick – the ones that communicate anyway.  The ones on the dashboard which tell us we need our oil checked or engine serviced or what have you.  We can’t even read the counter to know how many miles we’ve gone or always know if our tank is full. According to the dashboard it’s always full. 

 

Driving the Buick can be scary as we cannot see what gear we’re in but have to feel our way.  The back door on the passenger side has a huge dent from being in an accident. The window on that door doesn’t roll down.  I fully believed that our 2011 license renewal would be the last one.  And here it’s held up for nearly two years longer than I thought it would.  We truly have been blessed.  It does get me where I need to go.  I say a lot of prayers before and as I am driving.

We used to have a blue Saturn Ion – which I liked and would have liked to drive again.  But Randy sold it.  And so I’m mostly stuck with the Buick.

The black Saturn was initially my mom’s – though Roland and I did put the most miles on her car each time we borrowed it to go see his family.  I don’t trust the Buick enough to be too far from the city – and between Salt Lake and Tucson there are just too many po-duc towns that fold up at 6:00 at night plus too many stretches of desolation in between. 

Mom hadn’t even driven her car for the last year that she was at home.  Nate and I took turns using it. But Roland offered to buy the car not only so that we could put that money towards the cost of assisted living, but so we would have another working car.

The Saturn is generally the car he drives.  It is black.  It is hot.  It is small.  Generally I prefer the smaller cars, but I don’t appreciate the buckle holder poking at my rear no matter how much I try to adjust both the buckle and my rear.  And I really hate having my fingers burn off in just trying to open the door.  Apparently Roland doesn’t even notice.

I don’t like driving the car after Roland has had it because it suddenly becomes a dumpster on wheels.  Though I suppose Jenna has kept the back seat floor just as trashy.  She is nine but I allow her to sit in front.  (The car seat law should be on hight and weith – not age.  Same with clothes) I can usually point to items and say to Jenna that I need her to throw this and that away.  But I’m not always with Roland when the car gets littered nor have I been successful at always having him clean up right away. In fact, I think I have picked up some terrible habits myself.

Currently the Saturn is actually in better shape as far as neatness goes.  Time for me to clean the Buick out AGAIN.  

A Severe Case of Wanderlust

          I have such a major bad case of wanderlust right now – no money, no destination and germs.  Highness wanted to go for a walk this morning.  But it’s still cold outside.  Wasn’t in the mood.

          I would have driven directly to mom’s house after having dropped off the kids – but she’s not there.  It’s not even her house anymore.  It’s none of ours.  It’s going up for sale.  The very idea depresses me.

          I could drive to the assisted living – except they’ll be eating.  There’s not a place for me to sit and visit while the residents are being fed.  Besides, I still have this cough.  I should not be around the elderly.

          I thought about driving to Welfare Square to assist at the cannery.  The shift has already started but perhaps they’ll have room for me still.  But I let out another cough.  Probably shouldn’t be around food.

          My ear is still plugged and I decided that I probably should just go home.  So here I am.  I’ll probably go to bed and continue sleeping it off.  Perhaps I can visualize some exotic site that I can claim I’ve actually been to in real life.

          Tomorrow is Dr. Seuss’s birthday.  It’s weird that I can’t seem to find any activities for it tomorrow.  Not at the libraries anyway.  Why is that?

          I wish the germs had wanderlust and would leave my family.  Maybe they could go bug some terrorists or somewhere along that line.  Just leave me alone already.  Let me experience the human race again.

When Silent Night Becomes Annoying

          Biff must have received one of those microchip cards or something.  Jenna thinks it is from one of Roland’s ties.  Either way, we can’t find the source.  It is stuck in our car somewhere.  The opening and closing of the back doors trigger it somehow.  And it’s that synthesized music that doesn’t do justice to the reverent tune to begin with.  But to have it play over and over agin – and for some reason it has gotten louder.

          I hadn’t heard it the first couple of times.  But Jenna’s radar ears picked it up rather quickly, “What’s that noise?”

          I heard a faint sound.  But it’s not “faint” anymore.  You would think the chip would have worn out by now.  It does wear out, doesn’t it? I guess it’s possible that the chip could outlive the car.  We’ll be sending our car into it’s final resting place and there will be the lull of music amongst the hammered car graveyard. 

         I took it to the dealer recently.  I hadn't heard the tune all day after picking the car up.  I was about to send a very heartfelt thank you to "Oil Stop" but the noise came back.  They hadn't gotten rid of that annoying sound.

          “Silent Night, This isn’t right – we are dead in a junkyard bed.  Someone took money to take us away – we didn’t die here, but here we will stay – no more driving for us – no more driving for us”

          I really would like the car to outlive the chip – even if it means we have to listen to the synthesized Silent Night in the heat of the summer.  At least we’ll have transportation – right?

We Don’t Pray for Material Things

          Laurie was giving the lesson in Sunday school.  She had passed out paper and pens and asked us each to write five things that we wish we had.  I don’t remember them all – but the top of my list was I wish that I could be a better mother to Jenna.  The forth thing on my list was transportation.  It was the only material thing that was listed.

          Laurie then asked the class if there were any willing to share maybe just a few items on our list.  Wade rattled off his five good non-materialistic things.  I read only the top one on my list.  Laurie looked a little embarrassed as she confessed that the first things that came to her mind were all material.

          She then went on with the lesson and how each of us need to strive to make accomplishments, and when we turn to the Lord we need to have a plan in place about how to achieve our goals, or dreams, or wishes . . .  She pointed out how wrong it is to pray with, “I want a car.” “Please bless me with a new computer” or what have you.

          When the time came to share ideas  about what we learned, I couldn’t help feeling how blessed I’ve been about wish number four.  That sounds odd, I know.  But it was the one thing on my list that I had prayed about more than anything else on the list – oh, not for a new car – although that would be awesome.  My pleas were more like, “Please allow me to take Jenna to school without breaking down.” “Please allow me to make it to mom’s without any harm or accident” “Please let me get to a gas station before I run out completely”

          Last year when we got the car inspected, I figured it would be our last.  But December rolled around again and the car is still with us.  But it is so flawed.  Falling apart both inside and out.  By the time we’re through with it, I doubt we’d be able to sell it just for parts.  But I won’t drive the truck.  Probably I shouldn’t be driving at all.  So it’s not just the care of vehicle I pray about, but also the driver – who’s a neurotic mess without the transportation issue.

          Before Jenna’s second grade school year had ended, we were down to only one vehicle.  We’d have to wake Jenna up and get in the car.  Roland would drive to work.  I would return home.  Jenna would get dressed.  I would pick up her friend and drive the two of them to school.

          After school let out, we would drive to Roland’s work.  Jenna would do her homework (if we were lucky) and Roland would drive us home.  That lasted two and a half months.

          In the summer I would just have Roland take the car for the most part. Utah was under construction (still is in some places) and it was so outrageously hot outside, I didn’t really want to drive anyway.

          On Wednesdays Jenna and I would take the bus to the high school where she was taking a class in theatre. Occasionally I would take the car.  But then we would have to pick up Roland and the construction made for a much longer drive – so my borrowing the car during the summer was less than once a week. (Jenna and I also took the train to my mom’s house and walked or caught a ride with Kayla)

          So I feel blessed that we have transportation (other than our feet) and that we have gotten away with driving what seems like a relic (it’s actually not that old – it just looks and feels that way) and I continue to pray that “we won’t get pulled over on expired plates” or “please let us arrive safely and return without any harm or accident”

          It feels good, too, to have Jenna suggest saying prayers and watch her grow in faith and build her own prayerful memories.

Content With My 35 mph Route

          Every once in a while, instead of turning at my designated turn, I will continue on the road I’m on just to see where it goes.  Sometimes I have missed my designated turn.  Sometimes I have been rerouted by construction. Such was the case this summer.

          Sometimes there is just no way around the construction. One is doomed to hit it sometime during his or her commute.  I still have my hang-ups with railroadtracks and crossing over bridges.  But unless I take the freeway, there is just no way to avoid the train tracks. 

          I can’t take the freeway, though.  For one thing, I truly believe my car will fall apart if I attempt to make it go more than 50.  And that would have not helped with the construction situation at all – as I would still have to get off to get to mom’s street and house.

So whether intentional or not, I found an alternate route between mom’s house and mine.  I cross three sets at present. Sometimes I have to wait for the same train at two different crossings.  

I also cross three bridges.  Only one makes me freak somewhat.  The other two are small – like two cars long.  But the one that goes up and over and around – it’s winds and curls around and one cannot see to the other side while crossing.  But it beats school traffic.

The construction has finally been removed, but I still take the 35 mph route out of habit.  It works for me.  There hasn’t been much in the way of traffic and it’s been a comfortable speed for both me and my car.  No school crossing.  And no shopper’s fiasco. I do have to wait occasional pedestrians.  Not a big deal.

I’m actually happy and comfortable with the route I am currently taking.  

The Wonderful, Fabulous, Miraculous GPS (Global positioning system)

          For those of us who are directionally challenged, the GPS is the best device ever!

          Roland had won a GPS in a contest through his work.  It was about a week or two before we had gone to another state to see his family over a year ago.

          Roland makes jokes that Jenna must have been injected with a phonographic needle when she’d receive her shots.  It took her a while before she started talking, but once she got it, she hasn’t shut up..

Jenna would start talking at the same time the GPS would vocalize directions.  Jenna became annoyed and said, “Gosh, she’s bossy!”

This last time we had gone, I was fidgeting for something else but hit the GPS in error.  Roland looked at me rather puzzled and asked what the GPS had said.  “Go 108 miles and turn left” 

Oh, thank you for the heads up!

          Randy wants a GPS with a sense of humor.  “You have just missed your turn!  Just kidding”

         

          Lately I have had a couple of problems with getting the right information however.  Somehow the GPS thinks I’m in a location where I am really not.  For instance, I asked it to find a credit union near my mom’s house.  The nearest locations it gave me were not “near” at all.  And the GPS can’t tell you how much construction will be in said path to said destination. 

          I like that it tells you the speed limit and lets you know what speed limit is being driven.  At least ours does.

          For the most part it is the most awesome thing to have.  What a great invention!

Racked Nerves

          I am usually not pressed for time – but on those few days that I do need to leave – well, those are the days my mom would like me to stay.  And it would be all well and good if I actually lived closer – or with her.  But I don’t.

          We’re down to one functional car – and even that has been questionable. 

          Since Roland works late on Wednesdays, he drove the car in and so I borrowed my son’s car in order to get out to mom’s.  Talk about nerve racking.

         

          First off, it has a quirkiness to it that anybody but Biff might not get – and the fact that other people have trouble turning on the ignition is actually a great feature in Biff’s opinion.  I was just about to give up, when I actually got it to turn.  I don’t know how.  But then I worried – if I did make it all the way to mom’s and it was time to leave, would I be able to start it again?

Biff’s car would make clicky sounds – even when I hadn’t put on the turn signal.  I was only part way to my destination when it dawned on me that I didn’t think Biff has car insurance.  Oh, great!  As if I wasn’t already neurotic about the whole thing.

          And then, I parked across the street from my mother’s driveway (as there was a van in her driveway) and pulled out the keys from the car and the radio continued to play.  I didn’t know if that was normal for Biff’s car.  I turned it off so that the battery wouldn’t run down.

Mom’s air conditioner was being worked on – a good portion of the day – I might add.  She was hungry.  She wasn’t satisfied with anything in her fridge and asked the worker how much longer he’d be.  At least another hour.  She told him that she was going to go get lunch and that she’d return before he left, but if not, he could just lock up.  Just a few years back, that would have been so out of character for my mom to do that.

We went to a drive-in just at the end of her street.  And we did return before he was finished.  (I think they should have sent two guys instead of just one) and I actually had to leave before he did – although he was packed up and ready.  Biff left for work shortly after I returned.

          I noticed a luggage tag fastened to mom’s purse.  Corey had posted some personal information on a bright pink card.  It may let others know her medical situation and contact information in case she gets lost again. I don’t like this “old timers” mental state at all. It is more irritating than Biff’s car.

Railroad Tracks

          I don’t know when or why I came to be freaked out by railroad tracks.  I remember liking railroad ties when I was a kid – not that I ever got that close to one.  I don’t think I did.  Trains and tracks were usually seen from a distance.  Except for maybe crossing them.  I don’t recall being so quite bothered as a kid.

          I really don’t know when or why it bothers me to cross the tracks – but it does.  Perhaps not so much on foot as it does when I’m driving.  Not when I’m a passenger – but only when I’m the actual driver.  There is nothing devastating that happened in my lifetime to make me feel so uneasy – but I am.  Even if they’re tracks that haven’t had trains on them for decades.

          As a child I had been fascinated by trains.  I remember watching them sometimes while going on family vacation when the railroad tracks ran alongside the road we were driving.  I remember trying to count all the cars.  For a while trains kept me entertained.  Not so much now however.  Especially if I have to wait for one so I can cross the street.

          One time Roland was driving downtown and I was a passenger.  The route was quite unfamiliar.  We were driving northbound and had just crossed one set of railroad tracks and were approaching another when the arm came down and we had to stop for a rather long train going west  bound.  After just a few cars (from the train) has passed and there was still no end in sight, Roland considered a three point turn – only a police car was right behind him. 

          Finally the driver of the police car grew impatient and turned his car around.  Just as Roland started his started in with his turn, a train going east bound suddenly crossed the tracks behind us.  We were stuck.  There was nothing to do but wait.  We never did see the end car of the train ahead of us.  The east bound train crossed over first and we ended up turning around and driving toward the south.  That was before we had Jenna.

          Last summer I had enrolled Jenna in a theatre class. It was up at the high school near my sister’s house.  For the most part we would just park in her driveway and walk up to the high school.  In doing so, we would have to cross a set of railroad tracks on foot. In my mind they had been abandoned – as I don’t recall ever hearing trains in the entire time when I lived in the same city.  Trains just don’t seem to be so popular anymore.  At least in my neck of the woods.

          And actually so many of the abandoned tracks have been used and rebuilt in some places at becoming one form of our current public transportation.  They’ve been running for nearly twenty years now and there are still bugs to be worked out.  “High speed trains” is what they’re called at the crossing. I knew a bus driver who was literally freaked to have to drive one of those.  He declined from operating the train part and just stuck to the busses.  He’s probably retired now.

          Crossing railroad tracks seems almost unavoidable now.  Seems like I am crossing one set or another at least once a week.  And I am still uncomfortable with doing it.  Perhaps that’s a good thing. 

Driving Miss Daisy - Lucy Ricardo style

          My mom has always had a lousy sense of direction – at least since I’ve known her.  Improper medication or improper amounts due to failing health and aging does not help matters.  She’s always been an okay driver – not exceptional.  Perhaps even good at one time – now?  I think my mom behind a wheel is rather a scary combination.

          But then again having me behind the wheel when the sun is streaming over dirty windows – also scary.  And to top it off – send me to unfamiliar roads.  It’s like Lucy Ricardo driving Ethel Mertz.  (For those of you who have no clue what that statement even means, I encourage you to go to YouTube and click on “I Love Lucy” – any episode, doesn’t matter.  It should help you to understand my comparison)

          Mom and I have actually had quite a few Lucy/Ethel moments – like the first (and only) time we attempted to wallpaper the bathroom – figuring it was the smallest room – and how long does one spend in that particular room anyway? 

          The wallpaper itself was truly loud.  Big huge flowers in a variety of colors.  And bright.  One could walk past the bathroom and attempt to flip the light switch thinking that the light had been left on but never turning off the glare – which only became even brighter when the lights really were turned on.

          Have you ever been in the tub when suddenly the wall paper joins you?  It was quite obvious in many ways that those who had hung it were definitely amateurs.  As I recall the bathroom had to be redone after only a month.

          Recently I had to take my mom to the Driver’s License Division.  A specific DLD – one that might as well have been in another county considering the route we took to get there.  Over half the roads had not existed ten years ago when I had last driven there (or that general area rather) and was more familiar with where the roads went – or at least thought I did. 

          What an adventure!  I detailed my day in three pages and emailed it to my sibs and family to make them aware.  Some laughed – I’m guessing Corey shook his head in disbelief with another concern: perhaps someone ought to review his sister’s driver’s license as well.  And I’m sure if the DL workers could have seen me driving on the road they would have had me retest as well.

          I’m not saying I’m a horrible driver.  I try to be careful.  I don’t answer my cell phone – I take the slow roads and back ways.  I avoid traffic as much as possible.  And I don’t drive at night.   But throw me into a foreign area without a GPS and it’s pretty chaotic.

          And then there’s Roland, who for the most part has a keen sense of direction, who can drive somewhere for the first time and make it appear as though he drives there on a daily basis.  I admire that.  I can make my routine travel appear as though I’m driving for the first time.  I am Lucy Ricardo.