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Another shot from the practice photo shoot with Ava and KarenThursday, August 26, 2010
Where Do I Start? Attempted Hit-and-Run? Screaming Police Altercation? Tasering?
CRASH!
Actually, it all started with a jarring crash shortly after 1:00 AM. Both Erik and I leapt out of bed; Ava was right behind us. It only took a few seconds, but I processed the sound and realized there had been a car accident outside in front of our house. While Ava and I tried to peek out the window, Erik hurried downstairs and outside to see what had transpired.
None of us had any idea the idiocy that had just scraped our lives.
Luckily, our neighbor S was already outside and in motion. He succinctly informed Erik that an obviously impaired driver had smashed into our SUV, hitting several other cars parked along our block in the process, and was attempting to flee the scene. S had already gotten make and model of the car, had called the police, and was in pursuit of said vehicle as it attempted to turn off our block.
Yikes! But thank goodness for good neighbors!
While Erik and S assessed the situation, a man (I'll refer to him as THE LOSER forevermore) emerged from his miscreant car and stumbled around. He saw my husband and my neighbor and stupidly waved them over. In an odd voice, he apparently said to them, “Hey, guys, can you help me? See my car? Can you help me push it down the block to my friend's house? I just hit some other cars. I gotta get outta here!”
Ladies and gentlemen, meet THE LOSER.
Fact: he had just hit our cars—Erik's and S's and a few more. Fact: in his attempt to get away his wheel axle had dug a 4-inch divot into the pavement of our block—a trail of slime, as I like to call it. Fact: he had drugs and alcohol in his system, but apparently thought his biggest problem was hiding his mangled ride.
At this point, Erik had two options: laugh hysterically or run for his life. Luckily, S is a pretty convincing guy and informed THE LOSER that the authorities were on their way and that he might as well wait for them. I guess he's really, really convincing, because THE LOSER waited around.
While all this was going on, I was still upstairs trying to get Ava back to sleep. This proved futile, as it was much too exciting to look through the blinds and watch as more neighbors arrived on the street to assess the damage, as the bright, blinking lights of police cruisers arrived, and as the loud rumble of tow-trucks began to clear away the debris clogging our block. Finally, I gave up and simply joined her at the window.
Until the screaming began.
I could only see a portion of the street from my bedroom window, and since I didn't want to go into Hudson's room and risk waking him, I had no idea who was shouting, but I knew one thing: he was POed. Quietly, I snuck downstairs for a better view. Ah, there was THE LOSER, facing off a gaggle of police officers, screaming and drilling his finger into an officer's chest. At this point, I had only one question.
Why was he not in cuffs and being dragged into a cruiser?
I guess the policemen were doing their best, but I didn't appreciate the obscenities flying while my curious 4-year-old listened upstairs. I mean, even if her tiny little nose wasn't pressed against the window pane, she still could've heard the loud and decidedly inappropriate exchanges. Anyway, it was at this point I got my first good luck at the damage done to my SUV, and when my own anger began to simmer.
I'm no expert, but I knew at that moment that my beloved Jimmy was totaled. Several facts flew through my mind. (1) It was my first truly adult vehicle, a gift from my parents, with sentimental value. (2) It was currently a much-needed second vehicle for our family. (3) It was a fully paid off vehicle.
It was at that moment I decided THE LOSER himself wasn't worth the dried mud on the Jimmy's tires.
You know, I could ramble on and on about how horrible THE LOSER was throughout this ordeal, but I'm sure everyone can already tell I'm biased against him. I mean, not only did he put others in danger, not only did he destroy part of our block, not only did he demonstrate the unfortunate lowliness that some humans can sink to, but—he caused our family to go from no car payments to now the struggle of both finding a replacement vehicle and returning to the drudgery of payments.
My only consolation is that later—while I tried to overcome my anger and drift back to sleep—officers apparently tasered him when he tried to flee yet again. I know it's not Christian of me to say so, but I hope it hurt. I really, really hope it hurt.
Actually, it all started with a jarring crash shortly after 1:00 AM. Both Erik and I leapt out of bed; Ava was right behind us. It only took a few seconds, but I processed the sound and realized there had been a car accident outside in front of our house. While Ava and I tried to peek out the window, Erik hurried downstairs and outside to see what had transpired.
None of us had any idea the idiocy that had just scraped our lives.
Luckily, our neighbor S was already outside and in motion. He succinctly informed Erik that an obviously impaired driver had smashed into our SUV, hitting several other cars parked along our block in the process, and was attempting to flee the scene. S had already gotten make and model of the car, had called the police, and was in pursuit of said vehicle as it attempted to turn off our block.
Yikes! But thank goodness for good neighbors!
While Erik and S assessed the situation, a man (I'll refer to him as THE LOSER forevermore) emerged from his miscreant car and stumbled around. He saw my husband and my neighbor and stupidly waved them over. In an odd voice, he apparently said to them, “Hey, guys, can you help me? See my car? Can you help me push it down the block to my friend's house? I just hit some other cars. I gotta get outta here!”
Ladies and gentlemen, meet THE LOSER.
Fact: he had just hit our cars—Erik's and S's and a few more. Fact: in his attempt to get away his wheel axle had dug a 4-inch divot into the pavement of our block—a trail of slime, as I like to call it. Fact: he had drugs and alcohol in his system, but apparently thought his biggest problem was hiding his mangled ride.
At this point, Erik had two options: laugh hysterically or run for his life. Luckily, S is a pretty convincing guy and informed THE LOSER that the authorities were on their way and that he might as well wait for them. I guess he's really, really convincing, because THE LOSER waited around.
While all this was going on, I was still upstairs trying to get Ava back to sleep. This proved futile, as it was much too exciting to look through the blinds and watch as more neighbors arrived on the street to assess the damage, as the bright, blinking lights of police cruisers arrived, and as the loud rumble of tow-trucks began to clear away the debris clogging our block. Finally, I gave up and simply joined her at the window.
Until the screaming began.
I could only see a portion of the street from my bedroom window, and since I didn't want to go into Hudson's room and risk waking him, I had no idea who was shouting, but I knew one thing: he was POed. Quietly, I snuck downstairs for a better view. Ah, there was THE LOSER, facing off a gaggle of police officers, screaming and drilling his finger into an officer's chest. At this point, I had only one question.
Why was he not in cuffs and being dragged into a cruiser?
I guess the policemen were doing their best, but I didn't appreciate the obscenities flying while my curious 4-year-old listened upstairs. I mean, even if her tiny little nose wasn't pressed against the window pane, she still could've heard the loud and decidedly inappropriate exchanges. Anyway, it was at this point I got my first good luck at the damage done to my SUV, and when my own anger began to simmer.
I'm no expert, but I knew at that moment that my beloved Jimmy was totaled. Several facts flew through my mind. (1) It was my first truly adult vehicle, a gift from my parents, with sentimental value. (2) It was currently a much-needed second vehicle for our family. (3) It was a fully paid off vehicle.
It was at that moment I decided THE LOSER himself wasn't worth the dried mud on the Jimmy's tires.
You know, I could ramble on and on about how horrible THE LOSER was throughout this ordeal, but I'm sure everyone can already tell I'm biased against him. I mean, not only did he put others in danger, not only did he destroy part of our block, not only did he demonstrate the unfortunate lowliness that some humans can sink to, but—he caused our family to go from no car payments to now the struggle of both finding a replacement vehicle and returning to the drudgery of payments.
My only consolation is that later—while I tried to overcome my anger and drift back to sleep—officers apparently tasered him when he tried to flee yet again. I know it's not Christian of me to say so, but I hope it hurt. I really, really hope it hurt.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Photography Practice
Next Saturday, my aunt is getting married here in Huntingburg, and I have the honor of photographing her wedding. I know! Wow! (Thanks, Sandy, for trusting me with this vastly important job!) I've never done anything like this before, so I'm understandably a bit nervous. As a result, this weekend I wanted to practice with both my camera lenses to get a feel for their capabilities. Generally my subjects are my two kids, a very different experience than a wedding! Luckily, both my mother and my daughter accompanied me on my scouting trip and allowed me to take some practice shots of them. My mom's turned out fabulous, although I wasn't too sure she'd want me to show them here on the blog, so I'll just share a few of Ava. This is a lovely door we found at the venue where the ceremony will be held (Old Town Hall), and as you can see Ava found the entire experience rather silly.
Still, I got some great, fun shots and feel more prepared for the upcoming big day. Wish me luck!
Not Without the Guitar
Awhile back (I'm talking months and months ago), our family experienced a rather memorable moment at Noble Romans. This has long been one of Ava's favorite places to eat, not only for the pizza and breadsticks, but for the claw game that sits in the corner. Both Erik and I are horrible at winning this game, so we tried for a long time to discourage Ava from playing it. We didn't want her to expect to win every time.
We should have known better.
On this particular trip, Ava noticed a plush purple Hannah Montana guitar inside the claw machine—and instantly coveted it. (The guitar, not the claw.) She put one hand on her hip and pointed the other emphatically.
Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.
She simply HAD to have it. She'd been good all day, so we caved. Erik and I pooled our extra quarters and dollars. Enough for three attempts. First he tried. Nothing. Then Ava tried to help him. Nada. They thought perhaps I would be lucky, so I tried too. Zip.
And we were out of money.
Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.
Trying to turn this into a teachable moment, I explained that one cannot always win the claw game. By its very nature, it steals money from players and rarely rewards them. It's a con game, I tried to explain patiently, as Ava grew disgruntled.
Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.
About this time, our pizza arrived and our daughter was understandably distracted. We hoped this would be the end of that. She brought it up once more, but we explained that we were out of extra money. Too bad. So sad.
So imagine our surprise when—as we were gathering up our stuff to head home—we glanced over to see Ava working the controls on the claw machine. All by herself. Erik and I exchanged confused glances, wondering how she had managed this feat. Where did she get the money? How did she know how to work it alone? Then our questions were simply wiped away as we watched—with a mixture of disbelief and pride—the claw lift up the plush purple Hannah Montana guitar AND a stuffed Backyardigan toy and drop them BOTH neatly into Ava's waiting arms.
SHE WAS NOT LEAVING WITHOUT THAT GUITAR!
Giggling, dancing, full of success, Ava rocked her new guitar. Jubilantly, she tossed the Backyardigan (Pablo, I think) to Hudson, who was watching from his highchair. If I hadn't witnessed this with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. But, people, this REALLY happened!
An older gentleman—the only other customer in the place—clapped from nearby. Had he given her the money? We'd only glanced away from her for a moment. As our eyes sought his, he shook his head, laughed, and pointed at the surface of our table. Then it hit us. Our tip money was one dollar short. Imagine that.
So not only was our daughter apparently a prodigy at the claw game, but she was amazingly resourceful as well. And while some parents might punish her for sneaking away the tip money, I couldn't help but laugh. Despite myself, I admired that kind of brazen determination. Hell, she'd snagged two toys for the price of a dollar!
Proudly, Ava clutched her new toy. She grinned and explained, “I was not leaving without that guitar! And I'm not!”
This event alone was enough to impress my husband and myself, but Ava's skill at the claw game has only grown since this momentous beginning. We are constantly reminding her that one cannot expect to win every time. And she doesn't; she has her losses. But—OMG—the amount of times this girl wins! Honestly, when she sets her mind to something, it's hard to change it. And in this case, why would I? In fact, I'm thinking about starting a petition to make this the next Olympic sport. Any supporters out there?
We should have known better.
On this particular trip, Ava noticed a plush purple Hannah Montana guitar inside the claw machine—and instantly coveted it. (The guitar, not the claw.) She put one hand on her hip and pointed the other emphatically.
Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.
She simply HAD to have it. She'd been good all day, so we caved. Erik and I pooled our extra quarters and dollars. Enough for three attempts. First he tried. Nothing. Then Ava tried to help him. Nada. They thought perhaps I would be lucky, so I tried too. Zip.
And we were out of money.
Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.
Trying to turn this into a teachable moment, I explained that one cannot always win the claw game. By its very nature, it steals money from players and rarely rewards them. It's a con game, I tried to explain patiently, as Ava grew disgruntled.
Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.
About this time, our pizza arrived and our daughter was understandably distracted. We hoped this would be the end of that. She brought it up once more, but we explained that we were out of extra money. Too bad. So sad.
So imagine our surprise when—as we were gathering up our stuff to head home—we glanced over to see Ava working the controls on the claw machine. All by herself. Erik and I exchanged confused glances, wondering how she had managed this feat. Where did she get the money? How did she know how to work it alone? Then our questions were simply wiped away as we watched—with a mixture of disbelief and pride—the claw lift up the plush purple Hannah Montana guitar AND a stuffed Backyardigan toy and drop them BOTH neatly into Ava's waiting arms.
SHE WAS NOT LEAVING WITHOUT THAT GUITAR!
Giggling, dancing, full of success, Ava rocked her new guitar. Jubilantly, she tossed the Backyardigan (Pablo, I think) to Hudson, who was watching from his highchair. If I hadn't witnessed this with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. But, people, this REALLY happened!
An older gentleman—the only other customer in the place—clapped from nearby. Had he given her the money? We'd only glanced away from her for a moment. As our eyes sought his, he shook his head, laughed, and pointed at the surface of our table. Then it hit us. Our tip money was one dollar short. Imagine that.
So not only was our daughter apparently a prodigy at the claw game, but she was amazingly resourceful as well. And while some parents might punish her for sneaking away the tip money, I couldn't help but laugh. Despite myself, I admired that kind of brazen determination. Hell, she'd snagged two toys for the price of a dollar!
Proudly, Ava clutched her new toy. She grinned and explained, “I was not leaving without that guitar! And I'm not!”
This event alone was enough to impress my husband and myself, but Ava's skill at the claw game has only grown since this momentous beginning. We are constantly reminding her that one cannot expect to win every time. And she doesn't; she has her losses. But—OMG—the amount of times this girl wins! Honestly, when she sets her mind to something, it's hard to change it. And in this case, why would I? In fact, I'm thinking about starting a petition to make this the next Olympic sport. Any supporters out there?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Ava Joke
Now that Erik and I have returned to our day jobs (welcome back to school, everyone!), my mother is once again watching my children for me. So lucky to have her! Generally, I return home each day to Hudson happily screeching and my mom waiting with an Ava anecdote.
Here's the best so far. Warning: potty humor ahead!
After completing a certain potty task, Ava flushed the toilet and watched curiously.
Ava: Look how it spins as it goes down!
Mamaw: Yeah, it looks like a tornado, doesn't it?
Ava: More like a TURDnado.
In case I ever forget, comments like this remind me that my daughter is HILARIOUS!
Here's the best so far. Warning: potty humor ahead!
After completing a certain potty task, Ava flushed the toilet and watched curiously.
Ava: Look how it spins as it goes down!
Mamaw: Yeah, it looks like a tornado, doesn't it?
Ava: More like a TURDnado.
In case I ever forget, comments like this remind me that my daughter is HILARIOUS!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Holiday World 2010
Another summer, another Holiday World season coming to a close. It's been fun, it's been hot, and it's been memorable. I couldn't recommend a better way to spend money than season passes for the family. We certainly got our fun's worth out of this season. Today marks the last fully operational week for the park, although they will continue to operate on the weekends. For us, however, with school starting soon, we must say goodbye to one of our favorite summer getaways. Until next year, Holiday World! It's been real!
Learning a Lesson (Part 2)
**a continuation from Copping an Attitude (Part 1)**
Okay, so I'm a teacher currently on summer break—married to a fellow teacher also on summer break—with two kids who love to play and are usually up for anything. Yes, I realize this doesn't exactly support the whole “busy mom” persona (and generally we are super laid-back in the Smith home this time of year), but the conclusion to my license story occurs on a day when I at least felt like a completely busy mom.
It was a Tuesday. I had a long list of errands to run and Ava along for the ride. With a promise to eat lunch at the Pizza Hut buffet (her absolute favorite) if she was good, I felt pretty positive about our chances of having a productive morning. Perhaps there was a little uneasiness on my part, knowing I would have to stop at the license branch and admit my failure as an Indiana driver, but I was hoping I could smooth that over with a pretty license picture.
Or something.
Knowing how crowded our local license branch can be over lunch hour, I made sure to stop by early. Well, not too early, cause who would get up at the crack of dawn on summer break? But early for me. I didn't want too many witnesses to my admission of guilt about the whole six month expiration date, you know?
So we arrived. Ava with a doll and me with my figurative hat in my hand.
We took a number and sat down to wait. Miraculously, I was able to keep Ava entertained and before long our number was called. Boy, I was going to feel such relief having this entire matter behind me!
After explaining the situation to the woman behind the desk, she smiled warmly at me.
Woman: No problem, hun. This happens. It's just that—well—you're past six months, so I'm afraid you're going to have to take a written exam.
Me: What?!?
Woman: Sorry, hun, but that's the law. Let me just get you a copy.
Me: But I haven't taken a written test in almost fifteen years! I have no idea what information's on there! I could fail.
Embarrassment warred with that impending sense of failure. I consider myself a good driver. Only pulled over twice, remember, with no tickets either time. Practically a perfect record. But does being a good driver in practice guarantee a good score on the written exam?
Stop, I told myself, think like a teacher. It's summer break, but think for a minute! Even if you do fail, if you at least try, you'll have a better idea of what to study. So I talked myself into it. How bad could it be? Luckily the woman who enjoyed calling me hun produced a sheet of paper and some crayons for Ava. Thank goodness. Cause let's face it: her doll had already done its job of keeping her entertained. That time was up.
Blushing, I took my written exam and pencil and headed to the dreaded test-taking corner of the building. At least there weren't too many people there to stare and wonder. I put my back to the crowd so I could concentrate and got Ava started on some coloring. Then I previewed the test, as I often encourage my students to do, before beginning.
Whoa! Nearly 50 questions?!? Yikes!
I'm going to skip over this next part quickly, because it's painful for me. That test was a blur. I mean, how many average people know how long it takes a tractor trailer to stop when using hot breaks? (400 feet if anyone's curious). There were three triangular signs requiring identification. At least I was able to narrow it down to the correct choices (yield, no passing zone, and slow-moving vehicle), but my brain fizzled when I tried to figure out which was which. I know when I'm on the road! And it says it!!
Cloaked in failure, I stood and turned. And realized the entire license branch had filled up with people. I had now been here for an hour and a half, so it was nearing lunch time, and I had to take a new number and move to the back of the line. Great. More time passed. Ava and I practiced writing letters on the extra paper. Finally my number was called again.
Guess what? I failed. By ONE QUESTION. Not bad for someone who had no idea she would be tested, or what this test would consist of, but not the greatest result when about thirty people are curiously watching for my result. Remembering my uncomfortable conversation with that police officer several months earlier, I tried my best to stay positive. After being informed I'd failed, I politely requested a study guide. I took it with a fake smile plastered on my face and did the walk of shame through those thirty people. Witnesses, now, to my failure.
As we walked out, Ava patted my arm. It's ok, Mom, I still think you're smart.
For some reason, the image of that police officer flashed through my mind again. Yes, he had been rather snippy with me, but had I tried to return a positive attitude? Had I been humble and respectful myself? Suddenly, I wasn't too sure.
I sighed. I wanted to cry, because I so rarely experience failure (even on this small scale) and it wasn't a good feeling. But at the same time a part of me realized perhaps this was a lesson. Sometimes Miss High and Mighty needs to be taken down a peg or two. I felt like this was God's way of saying, “Remember, you're not perfect. You try to follow the rules, you want to obey the laws, but sometimes you may neglect to do it. You forget to check your break lights. You forget to check the expiration date on your license. Just because it's a more passive misbehavior doesn't make it right. You too are capable of mistakes.”
I sighed. It was time to learn my lesson.
So I took Ava to the Pizza Hut buffet. And we had a blast. Then I ran the rest of my errands, being SUPER CAREFUL not to break any traffic laws. I went home, got out my highlighters, and began to study for my next written exam. This time, I would ace it. I would make sure of it.
And you know what? I did. These words are being typed by an officially re-licensed Indiana driver. And while the license itself was the beacon of learning for me, I don't really think the lesson had anything to do with Indiana law. More to do, I think, with keeping an open mind, not being so doggedly determined that I am always perfect, and trying to realize that even when we try to do the right thing, it's not always possible. On the road of life, it's so important to stay positive in the driver's seat and not get too comfortable or—in my case—too smug.
Safe driving, everyone!
Okay, so I'm a teacher currently on summer break—married to a fellow teacher also on summer break—with two kids who love to play and are usually up for anything. Yes, I realize this doesn't exactly support the whole “busy mom” persona (and generally we are super laid-back in the Smith home this time of year), but the conclusion to my license story occurs on a day when I at least felt like a completely busy mom.
It was a Tuesday. I had a long list of errands to run and Ava along for the ride. With a promise to eat lunch at the Pizza Hut buffet (her absolute favorite) if she was good, I felt pretty positive about our chances of having a productive morning. Perhaps there was a little uneasiness on my part, knowing I would have to stop at the license branch and admit my failure as an Indiana driver, but I was hoping I could smooth that over with a pretty license picture.
Or something.
Knowing how crowded our local license branch can be over lunch hour, I made sure to stop by early. Well, not too early, cause who would get up at the crack of dawn on summer break? But early for me. I didn't want too many witnesses to my admission of guilt about the whole six month expiration date, you know?
So we arrived. Ava with a doll and me with my figurative hat in my hand.
We took a number and sat down to wait. Miraculously, I was able to keep Ava entertained and before long our number was called. Boy, I was going to feel such relief having this entire matter behind me!
After explaining the situation to the woman behind the desk, she smiled warmly at me.
Woman: No problem, hun. This happens. It's just that—well—you're past six months, so I'm afraid you're going to have to take a written exam.
Me: What?!?
Woman: Sorry, hun, but that's the law. Let me just get you a copy.
Me: But I haven't taken a written test in almost fifteen years! I have no idea what information's on there! I could fail.
Embarrassment warred with that impending sense of failure. I consider myself a good driver. Only pulled over twice, remember, with no tickets either time. Practically a perfect record. But does being a good driver in practice guarantee a good score on the written exam?
Stop, I told myself, think like a teacher. It's summer break, but think for a minute! Even if you do fail, if you at least try, you'll have a better idea of what to study. So I talked myself into it. How bad could it be? Luckily the woman who enjoyed calling me hun produced a sheet of paper and some crayons for Ava. Thank goodness. Cause let's face it: her doll had already done its job of keeping her entertained. That time was up.
Blushing, I took my written exam and pencil and headed to the dreaded test-taking corner of the building. At least there weren't too many people there to stare and wonder. I put my back to the crowd so I could concentrate and got Ava started on some coloring. Then I previewed the test, as I often encourage my students to do, before beginning.
Whoa! Nearly 50 questions?!? Yikes!
I'm going to skip over this next part quickly, because it's painful for me. That test was a blur. I mean, how many average people know how long it takes a tractor trailer to stop when using hot breaks? (400 feet if anyone's curious). There were three triangular signs requiring identification. At least I was able to narrow it down to the correct choices (yield, no passing zone, and slow-moving vehicle), but my brain fizzled when I tried to figure out which was which. I know when I'm on the road! And it says it!!
Cloaked in failure, I stood and turned. And realized the entire license branch had filled up with people. I had now been here for an hour and a half, so it was nearing lunch time, and I had to take a new number and move to the back of the line. Great. More time passed. Ava and I practiced writing letters on the extra paper. Finally my number was called again.
Guess what? I failed. By ONE QUESTION. Not bad for someone who had no idea she would be tested, or what this test would consist of, but not the greatest result when about thirty people are curiously watching for my result. Remembering my uncomfortable conversation with that police officer several months earlier, I tried my best to stay positive. After being informed I'd failed, I politely requested a study guide. I took it with a fake smile plastered on my face and did the walk of shame through those thirty people. Witnesses, now, to my failure.
As we walked out, Ava patted my arm. It's ok, Mom, I still think you're smart.
For some reason, the image of that police officer flashed through my mind again. Yes, he had been rather snippy with me, but had I tried to return a positive attitude? Had I been humble and respectful myself? Suddenly, I wasn't too sure.
I sighed. I wanted to cry, because I so rarely experience failure (even on this small scale) and it wasn't a good feeling. But at the same time a part of me realized perhaps this was a lesson. Sometimes Miss High and Mighty needs to be taken down a peg or two. I felt like this was God's way of saying, “Remember, you're not perfect. You try to follow the rules, you want to obey the laws, but sometimes you may neglect to do it. You forget to check your break lights. You forget to check the expiration date on your license. Just because it's a more passive misbehavior doesn't make it right. You too are capable of mistakes.”
I sighed. It was time to learn my lesson.
So I took Ava to the Pizza Hut buffet. And we had a blast. Then I ran the rest of my errands, being SUPER CAREFUL not to break any traffic laws. I went home, got out my highlighters, and began to study for my next written exam. This time, I would ace it. I would make sure of it.
And you know what? I did. These words are being typed by an officially re-licensed Indiana driver. And while the license itself was the beacon of learning for me, I don't really think the lesson had anything to do with Indiana law. More to do, I think, with keeping an open mind, not being so doggedly determined that I am always perfect, and trying to realize that even when we try to do the right thing, it's not always possible. On the road of life, it's so important to stay positive in the driver's seat and not get too comfortable or—in my case—too smug.
Safe driving, everyone!
Friday, August 6, 2010
Ava's Photography
The beginnings of an impressive portfolio....although keep in mind the flash is broken, which affects quality
As I've mentioned before, Ava has really taken to photography this summer. A few months ago, when I bought my new camera, I decided to give her my old pink one. Why? Mainly because the flash was broken, and it was either throw it away or let her get some practice with it. Thankfully, I have not regretted that decision!
I am simpy amazed at how responsible Ava is with her camera. She takes meticulous care of it. She seriously considers each photograph. She studies the final product and shares criticism with me. Adorable! I always figured she'd be an actress or a singer with her flair for the dramatic, but having a professional photographer in the family would be awesome!
A professional in action (I meant Ava as photographer, but on second glance it looks as if Hudson is purposefully modeling for her....hilarious!)
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
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Copping an Attitude (Part 1)
I'll just put it out there—I am not perfect. Nope, not me! On any given day, my house is a wreck; toys and dishes are probably everywhere. I pretty much destroy any green plant put in my vicinity. Frequently I borrow things and forget to return them. (Sorry to those of you who know who you are!) I can be grumpy, snotty, and narrow-minded. See? Far from perfect.
But one thing I pride myself on is following rules. Yes, I am a rule-follower. This includes following a little something called The Law. Often Erik and I pick at each other over our differences in obeying rules, even simple ones. If a certain area says “Exit Only,” I follow that. To the letter. Yet Erik wouldn't think twice about whipping a vehicle through there. Speed limits? If I do go above them, it's minuscule. Erik considers driving less than five miles over the posted limit a disgrace to society. Anyway, you see my point.
In fact, in regards to traffic rules and laws, I have only been pulled over by a police officer twice. Neither one resulted in a ticket. One occurred at 2 AM when I was driving home from a friend's house many years ago. Obviously not the best time to be out, but I was NOT speeding. Oddly, I was pulled over anyway and severely questioned about my drinking habits. Guess what? I don't really drink either. And I'd NEVER drink and drive. EVER. I guess I disappointed that particular cop, cause he politely let me leave with nothing, not even a warning. You know, since I had done NOTHING wrong!
And the second time? A broken brake light, of which I had no knowledge, which resulted in a warning. I suppose I shouldn't have taken offense to this particular incident, but it was hard not to do so. Let me present the conversation between myself and the police officer (nearly verbatim, I swear!) and you can judge for yourself.
PO: Do you know why I pulled you over?
Me: (incredulously) Was I speeding? (Note: I was NOT)
PO: (not answering MY question) Are you aware this is a school zone?
Me: Yes, I am. I teach at that school, and I just pulled out of its parking lot. Was I speeding?
PO: Well, you maaaaaaay have been going a bit fast. (Long pause) Are you aware that you have a brake light out?
So there it was—a brake light out! And there I sat, alongside the road next to my school, wondering how many students would pass by, honk, and shout in shock, “It's MRS. SMITH!”
For the record, I understand he had a job to do. I really, really do. It's just that I couldn't understand why he needed the attitude. It's not like I'd done anything wrong, other than not realize I had a brake light out. Right? But then he delivered the kicker, the insult on top of the embarrassment.
PO: Ok, Ma'am, let's get that brake light fixed right away. And really, you ought to know better.
Me: ?!?
PO: You know, being a teacher and all.
At this point, I accepted my driver's license from him and remained open-mouthed for several minutes. Had I just been chastised? For driving with a broken brake light of which I had no knowledge? Could I be blamed for that? At the time, this simply shocked me. I follow any and all rules. Every single law. Is it my fault I unknowingly had a problem with my vehicle? Now that I knew, I would fix it. Did I deserve this uncomfortable incident at all?
THIS STORY HAS A POINT, TRUST ME!
At the time, I felt very high and mighty. I mean, how DARE this cop pull me over and rudely berate me? Me? Miss Goody-Two-Shoes? Had I been speeding? No. Had I done anything reckless in the thirty seconds since I'd exited the parking lot? No. Had I received a ticket? No. I should be thankful! But instead I stewed about it for quite awhile. It wasn't until several months later that I realized this cop (probably unknowingly himself) had done me a favor. Sorta.
You see, last week I pulled out my driver's license for some silly reason. Probably to show Ava. And for funsies I glanced at all the information therein. Guess what? It had expired LAST December. Over six months ago! How did the cop miss that? Certainly I would have received a ticket for that infraction! So here I go again, breaking the law without even realizing it. Me! Shocker!
Still, I thought, how could I be blamed for that? How many people truly look at the expiration date on their license? I mean, come on, right?!? I'd just promptly renew said license and move on. Right?
Wrong.
So wrong that the rest of this story truly humbled me. Apparently, within the parameter of Indiana law, one CAN be punished for unknowingly screwing with the rules. Boy, was I ever humbled....
.....to be continued. Check back later for Part 2: Learning a Lesson to hear the rest of this story.
But one thing I pride myself on is following rules. Yes, I am a rule-follower. This includes following a little something called The Law. Often Erik and I pick at each other over our differences in obeying rules, even simple ones. If a certain area says “Exit Only,” I follow that. To the letter. Yet Erik wouldn't think twice about whipping a vehicle through there. Speed limits? If I do go above them, it's minuscule. Erik considers driving less than five miles over the posted limit a disgrace to society. Anyway, you see my point.
In fact, in regards to traffic rules and laws, I have only been pulled over by a police officer twice. Neither one resulted in a ticket. One occurred at 2 AM when I was driving home from a friend's house many years ago. Obviously not the best time to be out, but I was NOT speeding. Oddly, I was pulled over anyway and severely questioned about my drinking habits. Guess what? I don't really drink either. And I'd NEVER drink and drive. EVER. I guess I disappointed that particular cop, cause he politely let me leave with nothing, not even a warning. You know, since I had done NOTHING wrong!
And the second time? A broken brake light, of which I had no knowledge, which resulted in a warning. I suppose I shouldn't have taken offense to this particular incident, but it was hard not to do so. Let me present the conversation between myself and the police officer (nearly verbatim, I swear!) and you can judge for yourself.
PO: Do you know why I pulled you over?
Me: (incredulously) Was I speeding? (Note: I was NOT)
PO: (not answering MY question) Are you aware this is a school zone?
Me: Yes, I am. I teach at that school, and I just pulled out of its parking lot. Was I speeding?
PO: Well, you maaaaaaay have been going a bit fast. (Long pause) Are you aware that you have a brake light out?
So there it was—a brake light out! And there I sat, alongside the road next to my school, wondering how many students would pass by, honk, and shout in shock, “It's MRS. SMITH!”
For the record, I understand he had a job to do. I really, really do. It's just that I couldn't understand why he needed the attitude. It's not like I'd done anything wrong, other than not realize I had a brake light out. Right? But then he delivered the kicker, the insult on top of the embarrassment.
PO: Ok, Ma'am, let's get that brake light fixed right away. And really, you ought to know better.
Me: ?!?
PO: You know, being a teacher and all.
At this point, I accepted my driver's license from him and remained open-mouthed for several minutes. Had I just been chastised? For driving with a broken brake light of which I had no knowledge? Could I be blamed for that? At the time, this simply shocked me. I follow any and all rules. Every single law. Is it my fault I unknowingly had a problem with my vehicle? Now that I knew, I would fix it. Did I deserve this uncomfortable incident at all?
THIS STORY HAS A POINT, TRUST ME!
At the time, I felt very high and mighty. I mean, how DARE this cop pull me over and rudely berate me? Me? Miss Goody-Two-Shoes? Had I been speeding? No. Had I done anything reckless in the thirty seconds since I'd exited the parking lot? No. Had I received a ticket? No. I should be thankful! But instead I stewed about it for quite awhile. It wasn't until several months later that I realized this cop (probably unknowingly himself) had done me a favor. Sorta.
You see, last week I pulled out my driver's license for some silly reason. Probably to show Ava. And for funsies I glanced at all the information therein. Guess what? It had expired LAST December. Over six months ago! How did the cop miss that? Certainly I would have received a ticket for that infraction! So here I go again, breaking the law without even realizing it. Me! Shocker!
Still, I thought, how could I be blamed for that? How many people truly look at the expiration date on their license? I mean, come on, right?!? I'd just promptly renew said license and move on. Right?
Wrong.
So wrong that the rest of this story truly humbled me. Apparently, within the parameter of Indiana law, one CAN be punished for unknowingly screwing with the rules. Boy, was I ever humbled....
.....to be continued. Check back later for Part 2: Learning a Lesson to hear the rest of this story.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Garden Gathering
.jpg)
On Saturday, we celebrated my Uncle Dale's 50th birthday with a party at my parents' house. (Happy Birthday, Dale!) Suffice it to say, the kiddos had a blast. Not only were there gifts, guests, and amazing food, but a chance to play outside at Mamaw and Papaw's is always a welcome activity. High on the priority list? Picking tomatoes in the garden and goofing off with Uncle Chris. Both made the day that much more special. A few shots from the party:.jpg)
Ava & Kiera picking tomatoes.jpg)
Hudson tiptoeing through the garden.jpg)
Ava & her "best friend Chris".jpg)
Hudson on probably his 50th time being tossed up.jpg)
Just to prove this really was a party, and not just my kids playing around the yard...lol
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