Was it because of the dog?

My biggest complaint has been about the disaster of the school's car line.  I've felt justified in my anger.  If the Christian radio personality signs off each day with a "blessing "for parents going to pick up their children, then millions of others are suffering each day with a form of self-induced whiplash.  Push the pedal to the floor now, just to hit the brakes seconds later, to maintain my position in line.  Its got the same jerking motion as when we tried to teach my son to drive a stick shift.

Tuesday I got an early Christmas present from a man in a silver sedan with a schnauzer hanging out of the back window.  It didn't seem like a gift at first.  He cut line, forgoeing the slalom course of dotted lines, so he would be in next in line.  Instead of getting right on his bumper and risk the chance of dog drool on my car I tried everything I could to think rationally.  Maybe the dog needed to go to the bathroom, or be at the vets, or as usual I just got cut off.

When the race became serious, and we were no longer fighting for inches but instead full car lengths, the man in the sedan waved for me to go in front of him!  He knew he cut me off and cared! (Yes, I know it wasn't about me but more likely the safety of his dog.)

Regardless in my fourteen years of driving, this was the first time that someone did the right thing.  I was so happy that I out-talked my kids when they got in the car!  When the kids finally understood what had happened, the kids came up with a simple, logical explanation.  It was because of the dog!

Making it back to the Real World

After an exciting trip to London and Ireland, how did I think one expensive 11day trip would satisfy  my  traveling gene for the year.  Hey it was bred into me!  As I write this now I have no idea where my parents are, only where they were last.  They have the advantage of having babysitters for the four children who are left at home. I grew up in a household where I would go to sleep in my footy pajamas snuggling my favorite teddy bear, and wake up in the car the next morning in a different state.
Since no new trips are planned; I've been pouting until now.  No new trips planned for me, just my hubby who gets to jet set off to NYC, Houston, California, and last and least Cleveland.
(Two of my children were born in Ohio so I can't say too much)

I had my dream trip.  It didn't turn out like we had planned, but it was definitely memorable.  I had always imagined I would never want to return to the U.S., but by the tenth day I was desperately craving some ice and really irked with the lack of lifts (elevators) and curb side cut outs so wheelchairs can cross without climbing Mount Everest or following off of it.  My temper did get the best of me, while my husband was trying to shout over the car noise while simultaneously checking my life insurance policy, I dropped off the curb and tried to outrun the famous DoubleDecker Buses in London.  (It really would have been a fitting end…me charging off into..well.. there is an old Morrissoy song about being killed by the gigantic red bus)  Obnoxious American, I definitely qualified that day.
 Now it's hard to go from your favorite pass time traveling, to being tied down to a school regimen.
 So now I have been back in the car line at school.  There is just no way around it.  Luckily, I am on the opposite side of the school this year from the DREAD BUMPER SITTING MANIAC (alias teacher); but that is not enough to satisfy me.

There are others out there that get as frustrated as I do, I have heard them call in for prayer to make it through the twenty minutes of stopping,merging, honking and getting the right kid in your car.  Prayer is the best option, leaving your child to be picked up last seems really cruel, at least most days.  This morning I was even greeted with a pastry, which I am sure means we will be selling said pastry to the public shortly.

 Tonight is even a bigger dilemma!  Parent/Teachee Conferences! My husband was going to attend tonight to hear the good (?) the bad and the ugly; but he got called away to stay the day in Atlanta.  I told my son I would go but I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't end up in jail.  He's 11, he knows I have a vendetta against the school and driving.  I will report back tomorrow if I live.

Count Down to Ireland...Forget the Blarney Stone

Every book I have read about Ireland talks about the warm welcoming people that you meet there.  That is the first page, second page is all about kissing the Blarney Stone.   Now being an American and not knowing enough history I believed that the stone gave you the gift of the gab as in gossip.  The truth is buried in fact that the Lord from Blarney was fool of baloney, and the Queen wished he would learn the gift of speaking eloquently.

I told my husband that we could skip the Blarney Stone when I found out about the 200 steep steps it takes to get there.  My husband still was undaunted in this Irish folklore so imbedded into Irish culture that it would be like a foreigner coming to America and missing the Statue of Liberty.  (Disney World takes a close second/ or maybe first can't be sure).

Luckily the debate ended peacefully.  My friend who summered in Ireland several years warned me.
"There is just one thing not to do." she said.  "Don't kiss the Blarney Stone."
Puzzled I asked why.

"It's a common saying in Ireland,"she continued.  "That the Irish piss on the stone so that the tourists kiss it in the morning."

My husband and I scratched the Blarney Castle off our list.