I bet it's pretty bad when your coworker is telling you about participating in the one day work strike of Hispanics to protest the new bill on immigration, and then when you are driving home, and stopping by Cafe Rio to pick up celebratory food for Amelia's promotion you drive by the big protest outside the old courthouse, and then while you are actually waiting in line for food, it occurs to you that if the Cafe Rio employees strike on that ONE day, what it will mean for your Cafe Rio dining convenience.
Pretty bad. (And please please don't think me shallow, remember I work with illegal immigrants much of my day, I sympathize with their plight and the need for a different resolution, sometimes I just wonder about my priorities.)
Perhaps this is why I am being punished, nay, humbled by shattered windows, sickness, and my car not starting this morning. Don't worry, I am no longer feeling sorry for myself. The image of Amelia and I both conveniently professionally dressed this morning (because we aren't always) and both of us in heels in the dirt parking lot trying to push the car to a manageable battery jumping position while not dirtying Amelia's white pants was priceless. And then the fact that I could not pop the hood as the lever is tricky, and according to Dad, needs the strength of a man to manage (although I have managed it myself before), and his asking if there are any men around that could assist me with it. I hung my head in shame and defeat. Amelia took me to work. I need to find a man to help me with the car tonight (good luck Sarah...why do all my male friends have to keep getting married and move away?).
It'll work out. And this one is purely my own fault for having turned on the car lights last night before it was actually dark knowing full well that they are so dim that I might just forget to turn them off again.
If anyone in Utah is getting the bird flu, I think the odds are looking pretty good that it will be me. So not really, but I'm staying away from the local aviary just to be on the safe side.
PS...yesterday as I was driving to work, I passed a man in full tooth brushing action while in his car. I guess that's not all that odd (you couldnt rinse necessarily) but something I had never seen before. You do have to admire his dedication to oral hygiene though.
6 comments:
dedication, indeed.
If only we could all be a little more like the tooth brushing commuter.
you are real, hard core, true blue through and through womanly women. you and amelia. and i mean that with every fiber of my being.
somebody should invent a whole commuter brushing kit with a handy-dandy-leakproof-disposable spitoon....then we could all be as dedicated...I myself have mastered the art of makeup application (also known as "FARDING")though the mascara wand is a bit risky in case of an accident. I always used to say they would pull me from the wreckage to find a wand through my forehead...but now due to old age eyesight have mostly given up farding in my car.
Mother, I nominate you to invent such an item. And it's true folks, she is the master of farding in the car. I remember junior high days being driven to school, while she applied her makeup in the commute, instructing me NEVER to do such a thing.
I learned it form you Mom. I learned it from watching you.
I applaud all those who are able to apply make-up in the car. The few times I have tried it looks like that scene out of Airplane--lipstick smeared all over my chin, eye liner running down the sides of my face...not pretty.
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