I managed to keep my shreds of sanity intact the other day, thanks to Tracy, who invited us over. Becca played with her girls, she fed Andrew a bottle, and I went shopping at the grocery store by myself. I went in with one thing on my list--D Batteries--and left after spending a HUNDRED dollars. I don't know how that happens. I meander around and fling things in my cart, taking my time because I don't have a whiny toddler or a screaming infant weighing me down. I stroll up and down the aisles looking at all the cool things I miss on my usual frantic grocery store runs. And then I end up spending 100 dollars on......well. What did I buy? Batteries, OBV., and ummmm...diapers. And a rotisserie chicken and some paper towels. And some frozen tortellini. Is it just me, or is it ridiculously expensive to just EAT these days?
So, John was home today. And he was super dad--folding laundry and putting Becca down for nap and bedtime and bathing her. It was heaven.
Except for the part where he went and got the mail and found a speeding ticket in there. It was me. I was caught on a traffic camera in D.C. in some tunnel near the White House or something. I didn't know they had hidden cameras for speeding! I've been an (almost) perfect angel on the red-light-running. But speeding? When there aren't any cops in sight? And still getting busted? Oh. This is going to be a big problem. Big. Because, I have proven that if there is a cop in sight, I will be getting a speeding ticket.
Hilariously (to me, anyway), both the red light and the speeding tickets are on John's record, because the car is registered in his name.
Did I ever tell you the story of my other three speeding tickets that occured within a 12 month period? And how two of them were within the same month on the same road?
When we lived in Del Rio, I would occasionally drive to Austin or San Antonio along these deserted west(ish) Texas roads. One night I was driving back to Del Rio. I can't remember, the exact speed limits, but I think it was 70. And I was doing something like 75. But, apparently there were NIGHT speed limits that were lower. I had never been pulled over before in my life. I was shaking and terrified (loser). And I got a big, fat speeding ticket. As I drove away I sobbed and sobbed (again, loser). I didn't even know that the night had different speed limits. Apparently, as the cop so graciously explained, it is written on that black portion of the speed limit sign that has a picture of a moon and stars and a lower speed limit on it (also: dumbass).
So, I went to defensive driving and all that crap. Then, not two weeks later I was on the SAME road and got ANOTHER speeding ticket. That one was in the daytime. Bullshit. I was pissed. This time, I tried crying and looking pitiful. Did I get a warning? NO. I got a ticket. How come I NEVER get off with a warning? I blame it on my brunette hair. Had I been a ravishing blond, perhaps in a drop-top Corvette, I guarantee I wouldn't have just gotten a warning. But I was not in a Corvette. I was in our hoopdie Oldsmobile with no air conditioning (in TEXAS, people). In fact, I think I had a heat rash on my shins because the car tended to overheat, so we had to run the heater to pull heat off the engine. And the heater would blow on my legs. When it was 110 degrees outside, this wasn't pretty. So, maybe it was that. Or maybe my crying wasn't pitiful enough. But, either way, no warning, just a fat ticket. And I drove off shaking and crying again (LOSER! And also SWEATY!)
Alright, so this one was my favorite: In Alaska I had a 45 minute commute from base to Fairbanks where I worked. One day, I got pulled over on my way to work. This time I thought I'd try a new tactic. I had already (unsuccessfully) tried the fearful look and the pitiful crying with heat rash tactic. They obviously didn't work. This time I tried the highly respectful "Yes sir, Officer. I'm terribly sorry, Officer" act. Didn't work. Ticket. Only this time, no crying as I drove off. Instead I cackled wildly. I laughed so hard I had tears of mirth running down my face. "See?" I told myself, " I don't need to cry. Big fucking deal. So I got a ticket." I was so proud of my new attitude.
I got to work, and started working. Then, my phone rang and it was John. "How was your drive to work today?" he asked. "Fine," I said, completely having forgotten about the ticket and wondering why the hell he cared about my drive to work. "Anything you want to tell me?" he asked. "Ummmm....No....," I said, seriously having totally forgotten about the ticket because of my newfound bad-ass attitude. "I heard you got pulled over," he said.
"..." I was speechless. First, I had totally forgotten. Second, how the HELL did he know that?
Apparently, he was riding along in an Air Force truck/van/whoknowswhat with his pilot friends to go fly off a different runway or some crazy Air Force shit that makes no sense to normal people. So he and his friends were in this truck--which, like NEVER happened usually. Usually they never left the base. And they were driving from the base towards Fairbanks. And there is only one road running to Fairbanks. Do you see where this is going? Yes. Yes.
So, one his friends nudges him and says, "Hey dude! Isn't that your wife?"
And John looks out the window and sees my car. Pulled over on the side of the road, with the cop car behind me.
Oh man. Those were good times. Now I don't get to try out my pitiful crying/heat/rash/ass-kissing tactics. I just get tickets in the mailbox. Kind of a like a big turd just sitting in there waiting for you to discover it.