Dear Whoever Thought Putting the Adjustment Thingies on the Back of Bra Straps Was a Good Idea:
Like most (I think) families across the U.S., and even around the world, we have been spending a fair amount of time watching the Olympics.
I love the Olympics.
I remember, as a kid, spending two weeks in the winter and two weeks in the summer, every four years, watching the most amazing and inspiring athletes performing amazing feats of sporting amazingness.
But the one true man who holds my heart when I watch the Olympics is Bob Costas.
Because here’s the thing about Bob Costas…there he is in some tv studio in beautiful downtown Beijing doing his Olympics host thing. And there you are sitting in your living room with your family. You pause your DVR to discuss some kind of issue about what’s happening on your screen. And don’t you know, a minute later, when your discussion is over and perhaps there are still unanswered Olympics-related questions, the network cuts from the event you were just discussing to Bob Costas and I swear as if he was eavesdropping on your conversation will bring up the very same thing and will answer any and all unanswered questions clearly and concisely.
I don’t know quite how he does it. I like to think that Bob (yes, he and I are “likethis” and I call him Bob) has the hearts and minds of the world in his heart and mind.
So thank you Bob.
Effective July 1, it became illegal in the state of California to drive using your cell phone. So now, every Tom, Dick, ad Harriet walks around wearing a bluetooth headphone. Everyone but me of course, since my fabulous car has built-in bluetooth. And I think I would just look silly walking around wearing my car.
So, everywhere you go you see people who are seemingly talking to themselves.
The other day I was in the supermarket parking lot and I saw a woman coming in my general direction and she was talking to herself. I didn’t really give it another thought. (See above about everyone walking around talking to themselves.)
As the woman approached I noticed something was not quite right but I couldn’t put my finger quite on it.
There she was, yammering away. I passed her as she approached a light pole. She stopped walking. She was getting very agitated and not a little loud.
This is the point where I noticed she wasn’t actually wearing any kind of headset.
So I stopped at the ATM up the street from my house this morning. I was on the way to a project and I knew I’d have to pay to park so I needed some $$$.
All the stars were aligning. The ATM I went to is one of those stand alone kind, not attached to a bank, but on the side of a building. They’re ATM’s from my bank so I don’t have to pay those stupid service charges and it was on the way to where I was going and there’s always ample easy access parking. I know, you can hear the angel music already.
There are two machines. There’s a guy using one of them already so I go to put my card in the slot on the other one. The thing is, my card wouldn’t slide easily into the slot. So what did I do? Naturally I try to force my card into the slot. I shoved and wiggled and got my card most of the way in. I got it to the point where the stupid machine should recognize there’s a card in the slot and suck it in. But the machine’s not sucking. And now I’ve somehow managed to get my card pretty far in the slot. So far in the slot that I couldn’t get a grip on it to pull it out.
At this point I realize that someone must have had the same, or similar, dilemma because I finally notice that there’s a neat crescent knocked out of the plastic surrounding the entrance to the slot.
I started to get a little agitated at this point. My ATM is stuck far enough into the machine that a law abiding citizen like myself couldn’t get it out, but if there was a more nefarious criminal type around, they’d have had no trouble. I didn’t want to leave my card stranded in the machine to go home and get some pliers. I was going to be late for my appointment if something miraculous didn’t happen pretty soon.
So I asked the guy using the ATM next to me if he might have a pair of pliers in his car. Well, he didn’t have needle nose pliers (like I was hoping) but he did have a Leatherman and a Swiss Army Knife. Between those two miracle tools he was able to get my card out of the machine.
I thanked the guy profusely and used the machine he’d had no trouble with.
I got my card back. I got my money. I got to my appointment on time. Laaaaaaaaaaaa.
Watching this made me a little verklempt today.
Congratulations ladies. I wish you both all the best.
And the same heart-felt wishes to the hundreds of thousands of Californians who finally got the opportunity to stand up in front of God, their families, and friends and pledge each other their troth, in sickness and in health, till death does them part.
A bumper sticker I saw the other day:
It’s all fun and games until they ask you to open up the trunk.
To People Who Live in The State of California: If for some reason find you have to go to the DMV, go here first and make yourself an appointment. You will thank me later. It’s the most civilized thing on the entire planet.
To The DMV in The State of California: Your appointment system rocks. However, if there was one teeny tiny area where you could use the slightest bit of improvement: it would be super nice if you put a small mirror on the back of the thing you stand in front of to take your ID/license photo. Last minute lipstick/hair checks would greatly enhance the picture taking experience.
A sign that allegedly hangs in the Sheriff’s breakroom in Men’s Central Jail:
The inmates have worked out today. Have you?
About a month ago, I was driving to pick Zoe up from school in the afternoon.
In the course of my travels I happened to witness a car accident. I was traveling north, and was going to turn right at the corner. Since it was rush hour, there was a fair amount of traffic in all directions. I was in the process of slowing down because the light was turning yellow.
(I will now digress to that classic scene from Starman where Jeff Bridges–who learns all his human skills by observation–is approaching an intersection and starts speeding up as the light is changing. Karen Allen screams at him. Jeff Bridges replies that he thought that the yellow light means speed up.) (I will now digress even further because I was checking my Starman reference with the repository of all useless knowledge, my husband, and when he asked why I was asking him I told him I was writing an entry. His response, “Holy Crap.” He asked that I quote him.)
Anyhoooo….in true Starman style, the car in the lane next to me opted to speed up and go through the light (which was pretty red at this point). Alas, the woman traveling south was already in the middle of making her left turn. Two cars go boom into each other. No one was hurt, it was mostly just some crunched metal and both cars were drive-able.
The driver of the car that was traveling next to me pulled over on the other side of the street. The driver of the car that was turning left pulled over after completing the left turn. Since I was turning right, I drove right next to the driver who had been hit turning left.
I was in a bit of a rush, since it was getting late and I had to get Zoe, so I opened my window, called to the left turning driver, and gave her my business card. I told her I had witnessed her accident and she could have her insurance company contact me if necessary. Just to be clear, I gave my business card to the left-turning driver because I was passing her. Had I been continuing up the street, I would have given my card to the other driver.
A couple of weeks later I got a call from the insurance company of the woman who had turned left. I gave my statement, frankly being as honest and impartial as possible. (Even though I kinda think that the guy driving next to me was in the wrong.)
That was kind of the end of it for me. I had fulfilled my civic obligation.
Fast forward to yesterday. After a two week absence from the office, I decided to go in. I checked my mail slot at the office and there was a greeting card kinda envelope in my box. The name on the return address was completely foreign to me. It was a puzzlement. I opened the card and it turned out to be a very lengthy thank you note that the left turning woman wrote to me. She thanked me for taking the time to give her my card and for talking to her insurance company. There had been no determination yet, but she was sure that if they found on her behalf it was because of my efforts.
Wow…a really thoughtful thank you note just for doing what I would have done under any circumstances. I was deeply touched. So, here’s the thing….I want to write this woman a thank you note for having sent me such a lovely thank you note. Is that crazy?