I'll Have an Iced Tea, Please--My "Wild" Bachelorette Party Story

I met Shane when I was 17.  We got engaged when I was just over 20.  For our story's purpose, I will note that way back then, still, the drinking age was 21.  I'd had a good long upbringing in a solid Christian household where you did NOT drink. Not to say that I *didn't* drink, but as teenagers in small-town 1980's America went, I didn't drink much at all. 

In highschool I was kind of the designated driver for most of the, um, less-than-admittable-to-parents outings that I and my friends went on.  I was the one who was always going, "Like, oh my gosh, you guys!  We are, like, totally going to get BUSTED!!"  We did all kinds of dumb stuff together, even so.  Now that I'm a parent, I shudder to think...but I digress.

Anyhoo, even though I did occasionally knock back a wine cooler or whatever (or two, if I was feeling Really Wild and Van Halen was playing on the tape deck), I was pretty much against doing anything illegal.  Ever.  (I still am, come to think of it).

My idea of aWild Night, circa 1988

Remember these guys? Yeah, they definitely helped up the image...

So when Shane's parents, the nicest, sweetest, most law-abiding people you could ever hope to be related to, decided with two of my future sisters-in-law that it would be fun to take me to a small local bar, where they knew the owner AND the band, for a "bachelorette party" (and I use the term very, very loosely), I was instantly...I don't know...indignant.  Mortified to the depth of my fairly shallow Protestant soul.
Me:  Ohhhh no.  You guys!!  We are NOT going to a bar!  Pick something else.  I'm not going to a bar. I'm not OLD enough!

Them:  It will be fun, and we know the owner; we just want to go listen to the band.  You're coming.

Me:  No way.  I'm not.  You can't make me... I'll tell them I'm not old enough!  I'll tell them you forced me to come.  We'll get kicked out! You'll be in trouble! We'll all go to jail!

Them:  Shut up, Stef.  Just come with us.  We promise, we won't get you in trouble.  Just don't say anything; you'll be fine.  It's just some music, and it happens to be in a bar.  Come on.

This went on back and forth for quite a while, until eventually I realized I sort of had no choice.  And I was starting to look like a total prude.

Me:  Fine.  I'll go, but I will not have fun. I won't tell them I'm underage, but I will not drink any alcohol, and that's that. (seriously? I was this straight?) 

So we got there, and I was totally sweating it, walking in, like I must have a big "AGE 20" stamped on my forehead.  Ohmigosh, they're going to card me...I know they're going to card me.  We're all going to jail.  I look terrible in orange!  (Them:  Shut up, Stef). 

We walked right in.  Said hi to the owner, who knew my inlaws and didn't even blink at me.  I bet I looked like...I don't even know what I looked like, but I was so nervous I probably already looked drunk, bumping into stuff, apologizing, etc.  Like I'd never been out in public.  Dork.  They were like, sit down, Stef...Maybe the owner just figured I was that weird relative they just take out now and then, you know, like a field trip or something.

So I sat down with them, and they're all like normal people in a bar, laughing, listening to music, enjoying themselves.  It seemed SO loud, and so dark.  I felt like a peasant from the Middle Ages suddenly dropped off at a new-age rock concert.  It was a small country bar in the middle of nowhere, but I was just sure it was a den of iniquity, and I might never recover.  I yelled at them, "I'm NOT drinking!  I can't believe you guys made me do this!  We are SO going to jail!!"  Them:  "Shut up, Stef."

I sat back (probably actually crossed my arms), convinced that I could survive this and not go to jail forever and end up living in a van down by the river, if I could just get past the part where the waitress takes the drink orders.  No alcohol.

The owner came around to take our orders, and started chatting with my in-laws.  I'm totally freaking out inside, but trying to look all cool, like, yeah, I do this all the time.  I'm totally over 21.  Be cool.  But I am NOT ordering any alcohol.  At least I won't go to jail for THAT.  She takes all their orders, everyone's yelling over the loud music.  I'm thinking she's going to turn to me now and say, "Why are you here? You don't look old enough," but instead she just yells (over the super-loud, country music):

"What can I getcha?"

Me:  (yelling) "I'll just have iced tea, please."  Ha.  See? No alcohol for me.

Her:  "Long Island??"

Me:  "Yeah, sure.  Long Island, Lipton...whatever you have."

Her:  "Gotcha. Be right back, y'all."

Seriously.

I had no earthly idea what a Long Island Iced Tea was. I was trying to be such a puritan, and instead I ordered the strongest drink I'd ever had.  The look on my face when I took the first sip was probably priceless. 

Oh. My. Gosh.  And of course, my inlaws thought it was hilarious...still do.

Ahh, innocence.




This was so NOT Lipton!

Good Trade--Memoir of an Ex-Wedding Cake Decorator

(Warning: this one's long--but if you're here, you know that already. You can skim down to a condensed list of pros and cons.  Way, way down...)

I've been thinking a lot during this, my first summer back to my real life after 12 years of amping up and up and up in the wedding industry, and then pulling the e-brake on the hectic-ness.  I've mentally made a note (well, very often it's out loud) most days when I find myself doing something so...not...what I was doing everysimilarday for the last 5 summers.  It's accumulated to where I thought I should write it all down, so here goes.

My kids are pretty much tired of me saying "Oh my gosh, you guys.  Do you realize we are at the beach?? On a Friday!?" They're like "Ummm yeah, we know.  You mentioned that already."  We.get.it.

If you haven't worked in the wedding industry, you may not know the youhavenolife part that vendors deal with, every weekend during wedding season, year after year.  No. Life.  Also, this means that my family had no life while I was busy long hours every weekday, and sometimes 20 hour shifts on crazy weekends.  No, I can't drive for the field trip.  No, we can't go to the beach, or the mall, or the the fair, or the library for your homework assigment books that you HAVE to read before tomorrow.  No I can't go camping this weekend... maybe October?  Seriously, beach? Once per summer.  North Idaho Fair? Um, not in the last 4 years.  (It's this week, by the way, and we are SO going.  Like, opening day, 11 a.m., we're all over it.)

And our property, the 5 acres of roses, perennials, pond garden, and 5,000 square foot vegetable garden that once were lovely? Forget it.  As a cake decorator, my butt was locked in a sealed box of a kitchen while summer (my favorite, beloved summer) was something that went on "out there".  Without me.  Every year.  I did get outside once a week at home, to mow the grass...the rest of the time I just watched as it all slid into a Yard Disaster Area.  I had a lady ask me recently, "Hey, I saw your husband's truck parked (at our house) the other day.  Did you guys just move there?  That's cool. I didn't think anyone lived there lately".  And I was like..."Uh, no.  We've been there 13 years".   Awkward. 

Having closed the bakery, shut off the phone and website, I rolled up my sleeves and went home.  We planted the garden and (to my constant amazement) were able to turn a field of weeds back into this:

My kids don't even remember a time when we HAD a garden

It's funny how you forget the simple pleasures of an everyday life at an everyday pace.  I have time to sit on the back deck or the porch swing and eat lunch with a book, hang laundry outside to dry, and wash dishes (yes, after each meal. I know, right?). I know every plant in the garden, what's ripening, and when it will be ready to pick.  We are eating fresh entire meals from the garden now--last night everything on Shane's dinner plate, we grew ourselves.  Every Bite.  Awesome.

And the canning! Canning?! I can't remember the last time I had time to preserve food, and I love it.  I finally found a recipe for pickles that taste like Klausens, only better.  See?  This one's going in The Book (the only thing we can think of to call the cookbook so far).

I've had time to work on the cookbook project, which started out being for my kids as a graduation/now you're a grownup gift, but suddenly everyone we know wants a copy (that's cool, it will be pretty awesome). 

I'm finishing knitting a sweater for Shane and one for me (both have been half-done for 3 years or more.  Each.)  And a scarf.  I'm almost done with a cross-stitch that I started about 8 years ago.  For perspective, a sweater can take me a couple of days sometimes, and cross-stitches are usually a seasonal or yearly project. 

I have time to mend stuff as needed, before we forget that we own it--instead of leaving that sad pile of broken spaghetti straps and missing buttons clothes that you can't give to Goodwill (you can't donate that; it's ripped) but you also can't use it as a cleaning rag (are you kidding? This is from Victoria's Secret!!)

I have time to vacuum and sweep now, just because, anytime it needs it, not just that quick Saturday-night-before-our-only-day-off-ohmigosh sweep, so you don't wake up on your only possible day off and spend it looking at dust bunny colonies under the entertainment center, large enough to run up their own long-distance phone bills and demand equal rights. 

I know...it all sounds so...mundane.  But there's something so homey and satisfying and, I don't know, well-managed, about having time, just pure, simple TIME, to do a little chore that's needed, right when the need arises; to be creative in your own kitchen and make a gourmet wonderful dinner (and yes, dessert, but so far--no cake) for my family, who, needless to say, love all of it.  That alone has made it so rewarding.  Eventually, I will make us a cake, but not yet.  Soon, though...

Now, instead of getting up at 5 a.m. and leaving quietly without waking anyone up, to go to the bakery for the next 16 hours...I get up around the crack of, oh, 7-8:30, have coffee with Shane, work at my desk running our business (which I have always helped him run, along with my cake business--and which in itself has always been an every-day job), then grab a basket and head out to the garden to see what's ripe, gather eggs (I love my chickies!), and hang out some laundry.

Now I can enjoy going to my daughter's volleyball and basketball games (every one, AND be a driver for field trips), without having to mentally silently calculate what time I have to go to work tomorrow because I gave up 3 hours today (5 a.m.? 4? ahmagash!!).

To those who ask, how can you just give up cakes? That was your *passion*, I have to say, no, it wasn't.  It was one of my passions.  But when one thing takes over and you trade every other interest in your life for it, then you have no time for any of the other joys in life.  Maybe some people can go through life, having never lived the regular days or taken time to do All The Things with their spouse and kids, in pursuit of--what? exactly?--Recognition? Money?  Fame? WTH? I didn't want to be old and remembering...yeah, that one wedding.  Now THAT was a great weekend.  Really?  And yes, I get it--why didn't you just, you know, hire help?!?  Kneejerk solution.  Then I'd have to make more cakes, to afford the help.  And the free interns? Are you serious? Can you say training your own competition?

If you are skimming through this thinking criminy, woman, do you have to talk so MUCH? Here's a condensed version of what I "gave up" and things I have always loved, that I do now, instead.

Doing now:                                                          Instead of:

Creative cooking for family                                      Baking for strangers

Gardening and preserving                                         Decorating cakes for strangers

Taking kids to the beach                                            Meeting for cake consults and tasting

Shopping for clothes                                                    Shopping for bakery supplies

Going to the beach                                                         Decorating more cakes

Cleaning my house, every day                                 Cleaning a bakery, every day

Yard maintenance                                                         Commuting to work in airless bakery

Knitting, cross-stitching, quilting                       Filling, crumbcoating, and frosting cakes

Painting, crocheting                                                      Decorating even more cakes

Driving to camp for the weekend                       Driving to three venues to set up cakes

Camping                                                                             Wedding set up

Reading in the hammock on a Friday               Wondering how to finish 4 wedding cakes

Working on a cookbook for my kids                      Working on wedding cake sketches

Planning a medicinal herb garden                   Planning a photo shoot for xyz magazine

Dodging bees in the garden                             Dodging bride/momzillas (you know who you are)

Writing a blog                                                      Writing cake contracts/estimates/invoices

Answering the phone for one business         Answering phone/email for 2 businesses

Perusing the internet for...whatever           Perusing the internet for cake trends/colors

Having kid sleepovers                                                  Wishing I could sleep    

Wondering what to make for dinner             Wondering who's taking my place in the biz

Not caring who knows me                                      Networking to keep my name Out There
Sleeping IN on Saturday                                              Napping on a bean bag on bakery floor
Sitting in the hot tub watching it rain           Standing in February rain outside a venue

Meeting friends for lunch                           Meeting venders for business brainstorming

Meeting friends for dinner and drinks                   Setting up bridal festivals and events

Sitting in the garden with Shane at sunset            Texting Shane from bakery at 11 p.m.

Riding 4-wheelers with Shane and the kids    Driving home, window down (yay, wind!)

Going to bed, on time, tired and happy     Bed at 1:30 a.m., exhausted, alarm set for 5

See? Good. Trade.
                 
There you have it.  I loved cakes, and brides, and weddings, and my vendor friends (miss them the most, aside from the car), don't get me wrong.  But it became ALL I was doing, so it had to go.

My view on a Friday afternoon, instead of a fridge full of un-iced cake tiers for tomorrow's 3-5 weddings, three Kitchenaid mixers full of icing, and a commercial sink full of dishes, is THIS:

It's not just once a summer anymore!

"Fluh" is a Word

I love my brother Jesse.  We share an odd sense of humor, a love of cats, similar coloring, and a lot of years of a dorky hippie childhood.  Even though he lives at the opposite side of the country, we have managed to stay in touch and always pick up where we left off, and we always laugh a lot.  When he visits, our kids are like Whoa. He's like...you... except, he's a guy.  High praise indeed.  *wink*

 

We joke that we must share a brain, sometimes.  On his last visit, we were all randomly trying to remember the name of an Emilio Estevez movie, and someone blurted out the title, Young Guns.  We both absolutely simultaneously chimed in...."Did you see the size of that...CHICKEN?".  I haven't seen that movie in probably five years, and I've never watched it with him. We graduated high school from separate ends of the country, yet we both picked out the same exact line? 

 

People who haven't seen the movie totally didn't see the humor, but we thought we were hilarious. Maybe quoting movies is a symptom of growing up in the 80's, I don't know.

 

Sometimes we will just randomly text each other a song that's stuck in our head.  You know, just to share the love.  This spring I was remembering a shared joke about cooking with thyme (the herb), so I sent him this:

 

Me:  "If Iiiii could save tiiiiiiiime in a bottttttle"

 

He immediately wrote:  "Lol thanks! Lately I've been stuck with crappy 'Walk Like An Egyptian'.  Radio stations suck down here".

 

Me:  "Nooo!  Now I hear those big kettle drums!!!"

 

That's what siblings are for, right?

 

When I picked him up at the airport this summer for his visit, after not having seen him for a year and a half, my phone went off, with a text from Shane, and Jesse started reaching for his phone. Apparently we have picked out the exact same chime/ringtone for text messages. I know--not a big deal.  Unless you consider the fact that we have separate phone carriers, different phone brands, and the sound we picked out (from about a million choices) is a really odd sound that isn't normally used for text messaging alerts.  He was like... "Seriously? That's your ringtone?" High five.

 

One of my favorite things, though, is our joke about "Fluh".  We were talking about people who yakk nonstop on the phone without coming up for air. We all know them.  You don't really even need to participate, during these conversations, other than to let them know you haven't actually hung up every once in awhile. He had a girlfriend like this once, and he said she would talk for so long that he would just set the phone down on the couch while she talked, and do whatever he needed to do. Every once in awhile he would just pick up the phone and say uh-huh and put it back down. Then, to mix it up, he decided to just throw in random sounds. She never even noticed. So he would pick the phone up at random times, and say something like "Fluh," then set the phone back down. A few minutes later he would pick it back up and say "Schweagle," then, "Snarf".  I guess it was fine for her, because she just kept talking. 

 

Not surprising, they are no longer together...

 

We aren't ones to spend hours on the phone chatting, and even our texting is sometimes pretty brief, but sometimes I just need to touch base, so I'll text him a random word like "Fluh".  Sure enough, a few minutes later I'll get back: "Snarg", and that's all we need sometimes.  

 

Is 2013 the Summer of Rampaging Bees?

What is it with the bees this year?

All of our house's eaves look like this

I tried to sit outside this morning.  On my own deck, which we pay for every month with hard-earned cash.  It's MY deck, right?  You'd think I could take a cup of coffee out and enjoy the shade and a breeze before it really gets hot, but no. And here's *why*:  This appears to be a "bad bee year", which old timers will tell you happens about every five years.  This means that if you go outside and sit, anywhere, (the deck, the lawn, the garden, the beach, the next county) forget it, because there are yellow jackets everywhere, doing this hover-type hang-around movement, and they specifically don't want your company.  If you persist and try to sit long enough, they will get all up in your grill like "Hey human, I need you to leave right now." Wrath of bee…isn't that the worst?  Aren't we all so totally afraid of bees? They're like a million times smaller than us, but we totally lose. It. when there's a bee nearby.  I'm always amazed that they are confident enough to know that if they zing all around us, we will freak completely out trying to get away from their little tiny butt, even if we're not allergic.

I already got stung once, because, silly me, I tried to stock up chicken food for my hens.  I plomped (yes, I make up words) a 50# bag of feed into the big storage bin by the chicken coop, and this hornet flew up out of nowhere, like: "WTH lady!? We're working here!" and stung me right on the top of the hand, which hurt more than I expected and then swelled up like a small balloon.  I marched up to the house, muttering and cursing bees,  got the wasp spray, and totally nuked the whole nest, plus shot down some more hornets who came home from wherever hornets go, too, which was pretty gratifying, but still…why do they HURT so much?  That was a month ago, and they're already building again, same spot. 

We went camping right after I got stung, and we kept watching as my knuckles gradually disappeared and the swelling spread over the whole top of my hand.  I had to take off my rings.  I couldn't see any veins on my hand.  Compared to my left hand, I looked at my puffy right hand and was all hey, it looks like I'm 3 years old again.   I also couldn't make a fist, which was weird; it felt like my hand would pop.  Annoying, but fortunately that was the extent of the reaction for me.  Everywhere we've been this summer (camp, the grocery store, the kayak rental place), I hear the same thing, "The bees are BAD this year."  It's pretty sad when I (who strongly dislike winter, though I live in winter country) am hoping for a hard winter, just so we might have fewer bees next year…

So today…like I was saying, I tried to sit outside with my coffee and laptop to balance a bank statement, but after swatting like 7 bees to death around my bare feet and nearly spilling my coffee and the computer onto the deck, I gave up and went inside.  The rest of the bees are still bopping into the glass door like, "Yeah, that's right.  Stay IN there, you. This is OUR space."  I've used up two cans of bee/wasp spray on them this year, and unless you're a really good shot, that means a whole lot of spraying randomly around and missing.  It's great when you hit one, though--they go down like "aghhh..I can't…move…hate you…aieee".  Then I always have that fear that I'll somehow still step on a dead bee and get stung anyway, sort of like a parting shot, so I'm always watching the deck for dead bees.  It makes the whole picture of summer in the garden a little less...lovely.

They seem to be everywhere this year--Shane got stung trying to move some stuff out of an old Ford that we are selling before it turns into a permanent part of the yard (it sort of already is, but now it's going away, bees and all).  They are all OVER that thing…inside the rim of the bed, the tubes of the contractor racking, behind the rearview mirrors. 

We also seem to have them inside my daughter's car mirrors.  If you bump into her rearview mirrors, you can actually hear an angry humming as they all try to scramble out.  It's fun to get in, close the windows, and then play with the electric mirror settings.  Hmm…maybe a little to the left…now to the right..oh, whoops, did I squash your house?  Bees come straggling out, waving their…antennae?.. like "WHAT? We're trying to watch DWTS here! Do you MIND?"

If I knew that they have a purpose, it would help.  Honey bees, yeah--they're awesome, and I plant things just for them.  But the yellow jackets and wasps…just, no.  I'm not feeling it.  Which reminds me, we're out of wasp spray.

Stay safe out there-

Open letter to cyclists

Sometimes you just have to get stuff off your chest, so here I go.

If you're a cool, I'm riding my bike but I realize that I am a small piece of what is sharing this highway cyclist, then this isn't for you.

If you're one of the mountain bikers who we never see on the roads, this isn't for you.

If you're one of those cool road bikers who travel by bicycle everywhere and understand that the edge of the road, right of way strip, bike lanes, walking paths, and (yes, ahem) SEPARATE FREAKING BIKE TRAILS are there for you, just...you.  Then, this is also not for you.

But.

If you are that total flipping rude nut job kind of cyclist who I watched try and play some crazy sort of reverse-highway-chicken, you-can't-pass-me game, with my husband while he was driving a dump truck AND towing a camper amounting to about 27,000 pounds of steel carefully along a narrow, 35 mph, curvy, mountainous, blind spot-inducing, nowhere-for-anyone-to-go road, then this is definitely for you.

I get it.  You own the freaking road.  But seriously, really, sweetheart...so do we.  So, in love, please, could you move over a scosh so people can at least have the option to attempt to pass you safely without killing you, us, and the oncoming drivers!?!! This woman actually made me scream in frustration.  I don't think I've ever seen anything so rude from a cyclist. 

Here's this woman riding down the MIDDLE, and I mean the M-I-D-D-L-E of our lane on this windy, narrow, blind corner, busy road, on her bike.  Pedaling along like whatever, I'm riding here.  And she totally can see (and no doubt hear) my husband's big red 2-ton diesel truck pulling a 30' camper come up behind her, with two cars also behind him.  We're all patiently following her, politely waiting for her to notice and inch over so we can try to get past and continue our day. Eventually we realize, after like 5 miles of random curves and straight stretches...it's not going to happen.  Does she remotely attempt to let traffic by, safely, so we can all share the road?  No.  She looks over her shoulder, speeds up her pedaling a little (really?), and stays right there in the middle of the lane.  She passes numerous places where she could safely have let us by.  She passes numerous places where she could have pedaled along beside the road entirely for a stretch.  She would probably have passed a complete bike rest stop without any attempt to move or let anyone by.

Finally the minivan behind me takes his life (and all of ours, and hers) in his hands and passes ALL THREE OF US, me, the 55' of truck and camper, AND the cyclist and goes flying off down the curvy narrow road, also narrowly missing my husband, who had catiously turned on his signal to pass the cyclist, only to suddenly find Mr. Minivan right next to the camper, forcing him to swerve the whole setup BACK into the lane behind this lady.  On her bike.  I helpfully honked at all of them, couldn't even help it.

I'm watching all this from two cars back.  And still, she cycled on.  In the middle of the lane.  With a giant Dodge growling right behind her, dragging 13.5 tons of metal.  She would NOT let us past. What if she'd crashed?  We'd have all driven right over her.  Stunning.  I wish I'd taken a picture of this lunatic, cycling along down the middle of the road with a truck, camper, car, and minivan all patiently winding around behind her. 

Finally there was a small gap with some visibility where my husband was able to take his and my daughter's life (and the cyclist's I suppose) in his hands and carefully drag the whole 55' of truck and trailer out in the oncoming lane and get past this woman.  She kept cycling right down the middle of the lane.

Is she blind? Deaf? Angry? Suicidal?     Can anyone seriously be THIS FLIPPING RUDE????

I'm behind them like, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW????"

I passed her as well, but my question is what. the. heck??  People, move OVER.  I'm not talking about, oh, any minute now, when it's safe, she'll give us some room.  I'm talking about someone acting like I'm totally within my rights to be here and I will literally stay in this lane right in front of you for the rest of this entire road if I feel like it because I am a biker, and I can be here if I feel like it, and today...I feel like it.  So screw you, all of you, in your cars, trying to drive.

As I passed her, I had to say to her (loudly enough for her to hear me), "WOW".  Couldn't help it.  And you know what? She flipped me off.  Nice.  Probably because she's been yelled at ALL DAY, but really, get a clue woman.  This road was one of the most dangerous places I can imagine cycling.  You couldn't pay me to ride a bike down this road.

I can totally see how road rage happens, because I'm a non-violent, polite, give everyone the benefit of the doubt kind of person, but this woman came close to having me stop the car and kick her off her bike myself.  Especially after flipping me off for being annoyed with her.

Hopefully she didn't cause any accidents on the rest of the 15 mile road out to the normal highways (with--what?-- scenic bike trails everywhere, clearly marked), because she was putting her own life in danger, along with everyone else on that road today.  I can only hope she had no choice, no car, no friends to drive her anywhere, no money for a cab, and it was a matter of life and death that she get down that road, right then.

I still can't believe it.  I've seen some rude cyclists, but this one topped them all.  Bar none. 

So as a public service message from drivers to bikers.  Please.  We get it.  You pay taxes and by golly you can bike wherever you freaking want and that's legal.  Whatever.  Do it wisely, is all I want to say.  We're all used to the fact that we have to slow down and try and squeeze past your elbows on narrow country roads here and there, and we try to ignore the fact that if we have the sun in our eyes or we glance for a split second away from the road, we could kill you there on your bike, and we'd have that on our conscience forever, but for the love of Pete please give us at least a chance to get PAST you, so we can ALL enjoy the drive.

Just in case you are a cyclist like this, and you write me a nasty-gram about how bikers are misunderstood and victimized, and the nitpickity details of the legality of cycling and rights of way, etc., be assured I will happily delete it.

Driver's ED

Aren't we all the best driving instructors?

We all do this.  Talk to other drivers while we're in the car.  You know you do.  I do.  I try not to say too much when I have kids in the car, but sometimes it can't be helped, although I do avoid the more colorful stuff, or I try to put a spin on it like it's some sort of learning lesson.  See that, kids? That idiot right there? That would normally make me want to scream and honk while making various gestures, but instead, I'm just driving calmly along, frowning...Mom learned a little more "patience" today! 

Still, I sometimes end up having these dialogues, usually out loud:

1.  What the---??? (hands in the air)  WHAT are you doing? Oh, you're turning… Thanks for using a BLINKER! I always love a chance to suddenly brush up on my reflexes and remind myself to never EVER look away from the road.

2.  Nice. You're PASSING me. And 4 other cars.  In a blizzard. Are you kidding me right now?? Must be great to have a 4x4 so you can drive 55 in a 40 mph zone on solid ice while passing 4 cars in a double yellow zone.  This one gets an index finger head-tap, as in "Wow. Use your HEAD, dumb-a$$".  (sorry but yes, it slips out).

3.  Two thumbs way, way up for the drivers who come flying up at the end of a double lane to squeeze past you while almost pushing you off the road, and then immediately they slow down to l e s s t h a n t h e s p e e d l i m i t.  As if time has suddenly stopped, or they forgot that 3 seconds ago, they were in a HUGE flipping hurry to get here.  Yes, you.  I have a special bumper/plow/ram assembly that I'd love to see developed, just for you.  Then I could use it to just calmly push you out of the way and off to the side, while maintaining the speed I was safely already at. 

do this NOW

    3a.  Mouthing the word "no".  This is for the drivers who come flying up past the signs that have said, clearly, for the last 2 miles "RIGHT LANE ENDS", but they will stubbornly pass everyone who already merged on over (I know, we're sheep) until they come literally up to the actual closed lane and can not drive another car length, before deciding they need to squeeze in, RIGHT-HERE, RIGHT-NOW.  I love the sense of solidarity you see when total strangers on the road will team up to not let them in while pretending to innocently be minding our own business, over here in our clearly-marked, single lane.  Nice try, though, dude.  Hope you weren't in a hurry or anything.  (wink) 

4.  "I'M DRIVING HERE".  When I'm driving, like any NORMAL person would, up a lane in a parking lot, and this guy's driving cross-ways through the whole entire parking lot.  At 35 mph.  If you cross in front of me, I will pretend I didn't see you, so you better either make it quick or get with the program.  This is another time a bumper ram/plow-type device would be great--then you could just catch their car and keep pushing them out of the way like a pile of snow until you've reach a good drop-off spot. 

   4a. This one has the added caveat of making me wonder, do you realize people also WALK in parking lots? And they have small children on the ground? Really.  Slow. The. Heck. DOWN.  In every direction.

5.  "Up. What are you doing?? The arrow points UP! UP, PEOPLE! Aaaahhh! Really??!?  No, wait, let ME get out of YOUR WAY."  For the folks who drive down the wrong direction in a parking lot lane marked with one-way directional arrows.  The arrows are there for a reason.  Mainly to point out that there isn't room for two cars to pass in this lane. But no.  Let ME squeeze to a stop to avoid running over some pedestrian while you drive down the middle of the lane with your Hummer.  (Hands up like, "wow" helps here, but not much).  Also sometimes I realize, too late, that *I'm* the one going the wrong way…duh.  So I keep the gestures to a minimum, just in case.

6.  Fog lights, or driving lights, or whatever they call them, at night, when there's no fog, or rain, or hazard whatsoever.  You know those two extra-large, extra-bright white lights BELOW your regular head lights? Those are for seeing in FOG, PEOPLE. Fog. Not for driving around on regular crystal clear evenings when us normal people might be trying to drive past you, until we are blinded by the full set of four lights in our face like an oncoming TRAIN.  I can't even tell you how annoying this is.  Please, have mercy.  Leave them OFF.  They are not cool.  They are blinding.  They make me want to put an actual train headlight on my hood and turn it on right in your face as you approach.  (Sorry…I'm usually so nice).

7.  Tailgaiting.  Even in dry conditions, this is just indefensible, but amazingly enough, I also get these on solid ice, which makes them especially enjoyable (sarcasm).  If you're willing to get so close to me that I can't see your hood ornament, you are TOOFREAKINGCLOSE, and I will use my brakes at will.  I always wish there was a bumper sticker or vanity plate that could impart this sentiment in just a few words, but it's no use.  I'm not a slow driver, so I'm always amazed at these people.  I'm willing to push the limit to 5 or even sometimes (yes) 10 mph over the posted limit, usually for the simple reason that this is the only way to keep up with traffic.  But if I'm already doing THAT, and you're willing to inch closer and closer and closer and closerandcloserandcloser, then you have earned the right to slam into the back of my car anytime I chose to STAND ON MY BRAKES. 

Fair warning.  I may also decide to turn, without signaling, into that lane clearly marked "Down".

I'm sure there are more, but for now, this will have to do.

For my own amusement, here are some others I'd love to post on our road...

could  happen...

stunt area, watch for motorcycles

followed by a bucket of roofing nails tossed across the road...

watch for yoga students in the roadway

You know you're in Idaho when...

You see this.  Parked at, yes, Walmart.

Oh. My. Gosh. 

I actually SAW this on my way out of a Walmart parking lot a couple of years ago.  I drove past like, wow, but then I had to stop and back up and actually take a picture, because, you know, some things you have to have proof of. 

It's appararently a school bus that has been converted into a motor home or RV or whatever.  Ok, I'm with them so far.  But, then there's a Kenworth SLEEPER, attached to the back of the bus!?!!?  

What?!?  I don't even--  Words fail.

I wish I'd gotten closer to see if there was actual duct tape involved, but it was kind of a drive-by photo op, since I didn't want someone to open the door to this super-cool unit and see a lady in a BMW laughing and taking pictures of their home.  Um... rude.  But, what's funny is that the people who drove this are probably actually "my people", in the sense that I grew up all hippied out in the 70s, and I knew actual people who totally lived in a school bus.  For real.  I even slept there sometimes with my friend (so, was it her parents who lived in it? I can't remember).  I remember lying on the bed (or whatever we were on, planks...who knows), and seeing the sky through those really difficult-to-open bus windows.  Remember those?  You had to like stick your fingertips in these tabs and pull both sides towards the middle (hard) and then simultaneously wiggle the whole thing down to open it.  If you got it wrong or were stronger on one side, you'd get a 45-degree angle, and then the whole thing's jammed and the super crabby bus driver would scream at you with her cigarette/whiskey voice to "LEAVE THE DAMN WINDOWS UP.  Do not make me stop this bus! Man, I hate kids!..." etc. 

(sorry...time warp there)

ANYway, the point is, I was laughing, but I totally get this.  The Kenworth sleeper thing is hilarious in this day and age, but I bet if you asked the guy who built this, he'd be all:  "Dude, this is the coolest thing EVER.  Check it out, man--we carpeted the whole thing."  And he'd show you all through it, and it'd have all these funky little tricky things that he made, like how the sleeper door opens in to the bus, so you have more storage room behind it inside the sleeper.  Or maybe how the sleeper is a "mother-in-law's" quarters or a solar hot tub area or something.

So, I sort of love this picture--It's fun to remember where you came from, and this picture totally reminds me.