And how was YOUR day...?

the setting: the van


the event: an unplanned trip to the pediatrician

the time: midday

Our story begins when a sweaty, tired woman goes to the school in said sweaty clothes to pick up her sick son. This woman is no fashion plate in these exercise clothes and would not even get rave reviews from the pigsty in the smelly shorts and lizard t-shirt she is wearing but the nurse said her kid was having trouble breathing and he was coughing all morning. Fashion isn't the issue when your kid is having problems.

Flying down to the school in a light drip drop of rain to pick up said boy and bring him home to get an appointment since the doc won't take walk-ins under ANY circumstances, I call the office and explain the circumstances for seeking an audience with a health practioner. By the time we pulled into the driveway, the audience is granted and we are lucky enough to get the 1:30 p.m. slot in Huntsville for TODAY.

Dashing hubby comes home long enough to transfer to the bed, change the soggy rotten teenager and transfer him back to the chair for the ride over to Huntsville.

This is the part of the story where you need both popcorn and a drink.

We leave the driveway. Hmmm. Is that water on the windshield? Must be condensation since the meteorologists didn't say anything I recall about us having rain today.

Moments later, I notice a few raindrops forming into little lakes on the windshield. It's just sprinkling. Like a leaky pigeon.

By the time we are out on Highway 72 nearly to the I-65 turnoff to Huntsville, it comes a pretty healthy shower. Crap. This is not good.

Traffic is heavy with semi trucks and loaded trailers all going about 75 miles an hour with lesser vehicles just hoping to share a portion of THEIR road with them. I merge into traffic.

This merge is more blind faith and trust with a little pixie dust thrown in than actual clarity of sight since the windshield wipers on the van do not work. Nope. Not one blade even twitches when I test out the switch to see if maybe today a wiping miracle will occur.

Nothing happens. Nothing.

Due to the rivulets of water cascading down the windshield, there is only one alternative with a sick kid. I have to roll down the windows. Lovely…in that way that I mean "NOT"! The driver's side window is down all the way so I can be fully pelted by the rain instead of just enjoying a sudden deluge. It is also down so I can make the attempt to bypass viewing the highway through the windshield so I can see the white stripes on the road and allegedly keep to my own lane in an attempt to prevent the van from becoming an attractive hood ornament for a Peterbilt.

Have you ever driven a car 70 miles an hour with semi trucks on all sides and you lack front window visibility? I have. It's more of an adrenalin rush than anything you can possibly come up with. You simply can't top this one. Theme parks and reality TV have nothing on this experience. And if you are constipated, you won't be for long with this little scenario moving things right along.

I have had proximity induced semi truck-phobia ever since I was laid up in a wreck with one about 16 years ago. The proximity of the truck back then made me jittery now anytime those big rigs get a pinch too close. Frustratingly, they never have found the jackass that did the deed either. Some foreign driver with no legitimate paperwork. Gotta love "illegal immigrants". Buttheads.

So there I am, my precious cargo in imminent peril as I attempt to keep from becoming a ping pong ball between the flatbeds on the trailers on the way to see his doctor.

With me so far…? Good. This is just beginning to get good.

People who drive the highways and byways of our interstate system are a wonderful bunch. They will cut you off with less than 6 inches of clearance as they cross ALL THREE LANES to get to the exit they were in too much of a hurry to plan ahead to meet.

Yeah.

In the rain.

With NO visibility.

And my ailing son in the van with me.

Zero fun.

I knew this would happen.

When the wipers on the 1994 Dodge van gave up the ghost, I knew there would be some reason I'd have to drive the van some distance in a driving rainstorm.

The best part is that the rain stopped when we got to the doc's office. And promptly started right back up when we were leaving.

I am beyond 'white-knuckled' on this ride.

I think my entire body is pale. Okay, fair enough. Paler than USUAL.

And I'm reasonably sure that if I'd had any pee left that hadn't already been scared out of me by the close order drill ordeal with the semi's I would have peed my pants.

As it is, I feel like I have run a marathon, won the Superbowl and flown to the moon and back all in one shot. I'm not built for this kind of labor.

Pray for sunny days and rainy nights. It's the only way I'll live through the continued demise of the van.

I'm reasonably sure that the day is not far off where I'll be scooting along the pavement on my fanny leaving remnants of me and the van on the road behind me as it finally decides to deconstruct on the molecular level.

When that day comes, don't be surprised to find me laughing hysterically on the side of the road while a stranger blots my skinned up butt with some used Hardee's napkins from the
floorboard of their pickup truck until the paramedics arrive.

Just another day in paradise.

Two Miles with an Assassin

It is kind of cloudy today and the temperatures are low enough that even though sweat will be part of the equation, I didn't think I'd be par boiling in my own juices. It's the thought that counts, right?

Gypsy started to gambol about barking in a high pitched yip guaranteed to peel the lining out of your eardrums and the eardrums of people two or three blocks away. She loves to go out for a walk. It's the most thrilling part of your average dog day for her. Pooping and peeing on every vacant lot and byway is sort of a doggie newspaper headline and she is determined not to miss any publication deadlines just because I had leg cramps during the night. My suffering means NOTHING to her.

I honestly wonder if she has reserve holding tanks for the poop and pee since she manages to go multiple times during our walk and it's never just a few drops or plops along the way. It's more like cups and handfuls... not that I'm anxious to measure or hold any... but you get the idea.

Holy crapola dog!!!! How can ANY dog have that much poop and pee?? Is this some breed specific trait or is it true of all dogs? I think I need a governmental research grant to examine the output levels by breed for a comparison study.

We walk about a quarter mile and Gypsy looks back at me over her left shoulder. She is smiling her evil smile. I knew she would make me pay for going out on a cloudy morning.

It's an opportunity for Gypsy to show the other dogs chained up in 'jail' in either their play yards behind fences or indoors behind spit covered windows that she (neener neener!) got to go outside while they have to stay inside and just hope that someone will turn on the vacuum cleaner for them to attack.

Sort of a nasty little game of "watch how I'm in charge" begins where she will lunge forward, backward, or sideways to impress the 'inmates' with her complete freedom to maul, maim and murder her erstwhile owner.

Foolish mortals we. Our delusion of pet ownership is an invitation for our canid companions to teach us humility in plays. We are not in charge and going for a walk reinforces that lesson.

So, she's in charge. Well, good for her. I almost hit the ground several times as Gypsy zigged and zagged her way toward her ultimate goal of worldwide domination for the furry Assassins club. Her speed changed randomly from a pitiful walk to a full on gallop then back to a leisurely lope. The idea is to confuse the enemy and make them ripe for the pickings.

I have seen her evil smile several times today. I believe it was the broadest it has ever been. Her ears even curled up in a decidedly wicked fashion to resemble nothing so much as a pair of fur covered devil horns.

Uncertain as to why she is trying to murder the hand that feeds her (along with the rest of the body), I bring her home after today's appointed route is completed.

Did I mention we did two miles today? Yep. We were about 1/2 mile into the adventure of murderous intent when it started to rain.

Far from spoiling the evil intentions of the canid minion, I believe the rain simply washed away the veneer of domestication that prevents her from taking full advantage of her opportunities for conquest on a daily basis.

When the pee and poop factory was finally empty and we were within a scant couple of blocks of the house, Princess Pig was 'exhausted' from her ordeal and turned to me with that expression of mingled innocence and sheer cunning that says "Carry Me!"

Uh, I don't think so, you reject from the mafia. Carry your own cunning evil on your own malevolent legs! I know what you have in mind. A nice nap today followed by trampling me and stealing my covers tonight in the bed.

STOP SMILING AT ME THAT WAY!!!

The Hounds of the Baskervilles have nothing on this dog.

Conversation starter... don't throw too many rocks

I have been feeling somewhat frustrated over the coverage of the mosque that is going to most assuredly go up in the area of Ground Zero where the attacks on our freedom took place. Those responsible are Muslim and they are extremist in their views.

Everything I have read in the Quran and in the literature of their own faith encourages them to treat everyone who doesn't believe as they believe as an infidel worthy of death. There isn't any backtracking on this in terms of the radical clerics, leaders and practitioners of their belief and life systems. To them, it is the ONLY way to the salvation promised to them by Allah and their faith. We are in their way. I was angry at the concept that we were, as a Judeo-Christian nation, left ripe for the picking.

Then, I began to ponder a few thoughts.

It was not so very long ago that my own faith was the enemy of everyone who believe differently that we do and, as a body, our faith and belief was cast out, repudiated and treated as dross. We were driven from pillar to post in search of our Zion. People died defending the right to believe in God in a way that defied tradition of other faiths.

But does believing differently mean we have to be unjust?

I don't make this parallel lightly.

I am just as angry as everyone else that they lack sensitivity to the feelings of the people of America who are against this edifice they hope to build. Personally, I feel like they are thumbing their nose at the ongoing pain left from a scar that it will take generations to heal. I also feel like they are doing some kind of victory celebration by planning to place what will most assuredly be much more than a simple place of worship, educational and cultural facility in such a controversial location. I honestly believe it will become, in short order, a gateway of jihad to be perpetrated upon the American public.

But setting aside my own personal biases, I have to ask myself a pretty painful question: Do I have the right to constitutionally deny ANY religious faith the right to construct an edifice for the state purpose of worshipping God in the way they see fit?

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, we have a tidy little 13 bullet point statement that defines the basics of the tenets of our faith. Number 11 has kept me up all night considering my opinions.

It states: We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may. (Pearl of Great Price|Articles of Faith 1:11)

When we consider the fact that our nation supports literally THOUSANDS of denominations which vary wildly in their beliefs and applications of same, do we have the right to prevent some from exercising their beliefs on the basis of what we THINK they may be up to inside the walls of their church? We have our own home-grown churches that protest at the funerals of our military that in reality protect the very right of these insensitive bigots to protest! Yet, we tolerate their presence, knowing in time that they will reveal themselves for who and what they are and be rendered useless to society at large.

There is a lot of real estate in New York City. Those who are seeking to build could chose from plenty of places to build their house of worship.

I have come to believe that this is an issue of personal sensitivity more than one of basic human rights to worship in the way they want.

If their stated purpose is to advance their opportunity to worship, those rights we seek to deny them, in time, will be denied to the rest of us. Who is to say that OUR chosen religious rites of worship will not find themselves in the crosshairs of popularity?? My faith has endured that particular bullet shot. How would we like it if every other faith had to "enjoy" that same agony?

You can't build here because you aren't popular? It's just something to think about...

I still think the mosque could be and should be built elsewhere. But my own faith demands that if I am to avoid being a hypocrite that I support their religious freedom.

Sometimes, being a God-fearing woman is a tough row to hoe...

Can You Identify This Symbol

The idea for this particular column was shamelessly stolen from a writer's forum upon which I participate. The work and the wording, however, is mine.

CAN YOU IDENTIFY THIS SYMBOL?

An article in the Internet news bemoaned the fact that no one knows that this particular in dash display symbol is some sort of important warning and which is blatantly ignored by the masses that simply have no clue what it means. The only reason I knew what it was at all was from the headline in the news article.

For the record, it is a tire pressure sensor warning to indicate that your tire or tires are under-inflated and possibly contributing to global warming around Al Gore’s nether regions.

My 1994 Dodge Ram Van 350 lacks those types of amenities. Since it is less complicated than newer vehicles that have computerized control panels that rival a Boeing IndustroSupremeLiner, the van has your basic two window display to tell you how hard the squirrels are working to move the squealing van down the road and a small permanently lit indicator that tells me my ABS brake system is out of order and that my oil is all gone thus burning up my engine. Neither is true, but we, and several alleged to be highly trained mechanics, have yet to find just where the evil little lights are connected to power to cause it to stay on forever.

To be fair, the van IS old and isn’t hip, new or modern. Since it lacks a lot of the new goodies that new vehicles make salesmen moist over, it has to make up for that with the knowledge of the desperate and broke that it is paid for and still works 5 days out of 7 in your average week. It does, however, offer other amenities.

The front windshield now leaks just above the drivers seat and during a cold rain is a lot like being peed upon intermittently by a chilly sparrow.

The drivers side window pees on your left leg constantly while it rains regardless of the direction of the rainfall. I have resorted to shoving a small towel up into the window at times, but this lacks the finesse of actual weather stripping since it will soak up the water and eventually it has to be dumped in a frosty river streaming onto my left thigh and down into a puddle in the seat ensuring that I get a soaking wet crotch. It makes for interesting conversation regarding my supposed lack of bladder control. Philistines!

The drivers side first passenger seat window leaks leaving a small lake in the small divot in the new carpeting where it is depressed from repeated use of Jared's wheelchair.

The drivers side last passenger seat window leaks and the water runs into the frame of the window to an undetermined location. I fully expect the back seat to fall out while I'm driving down the road any day now. I just hope the passengers that might be in the seat are quick thinkers and can avoid any oncoming traffic as the seat belts have a tendency to jam under pressure preventing people from getting out of them until brute force is applied.

As of yesterday during our most recent heavy thunderstorm, the windshield wipers no longer work. They screeched back and forth a couple of times then there was a horrible grinding noise before they gave up the ghost mid wipe in the "up" position. Now, I am reduced to only using the van on sunny days unless I develop some sort of gymnastic ability to use a squeegee from INSIDE the van while I drive.

Speaking of the sun, the van hasn't had air conditioning in years. It's a lot like a movable human oven. We survive daytime trips with the windows all open and pray for a breeze. The breeze isn't pleasant since the van has once again been soaked on the inside from the latest thunderstorm and once again smells quite a bit like a potting shed.

I've been considering putting the van up on blocks, using solar panels to operate grow lights in its interior and raising 'medical' marijuana. If it's medical grade, would I still be considered a 'pusher'? Just wondering...

Did I mention the radio? Formerly the only good thing left in the van, it is now reduced to the intermittent use of two speakers, one in front and one in back. They alternate their own volume regardless of desired settings. This gets uncomfortable when they decide the chosen volume is going to be three notches past 'my ears are bleeding, please turn it down'. Naturally, this internal setting generally occurs when I am in heavy traffic and have no way to turn it down or off and the volume pours from the windows until everyone around me thinks I am some kind of middle-aged rapper wanna be.

The radio display no longer works and getting a decent station is a crapshoot. I am also down to two stations in the preprogrammed buttons (old people's elevator music and the classical station from UA).

I am not a big fan of either one and unless I beat the front panel of the radio so I can pick up the country station I prefer to listen to instead of the squealing of the motor, I get dead silence since I generally don't have the ear buds for my iTouch.

The once wonderfully entertaining television is now useless for actual viewing since there is no longer an antenna pack (it burned out about the minute we paid it off) and the VCR eats tapes... or it would if we hadn't converted our entire movie library to DVD. Sadly for the other family members who live in a state of denial regarding the age and decrepitude of my vehicle, I am unwilling to put either an antenna or a DVD player in the van, as it will only make it more appealing to rob. And even at that, they will only take the goodies and leave the van.

While I am not fool enough to get overly wrought up about this pitiful, sad circumstance, I am frustrated from time to time in the use of this particular conveyance.

Generally, just when I need it the most, the van has the unpleasant propensity of letting me down. Way, way down. The school calls for me to pick up Jared and the van won’t start. I am not secretly using the battery to light roman candles, people!! Where in the devil did the charge go? And before you ask, YES you can use a battery to light up explosive ordinance. But don't do this yourself without a professional around or you could lose and eyebrow or a testicle... maybe both.

Sometimes, the failure of the van happens on the very day that I'm supposed to go see my doctor and ensure that I’m not about to implode due to poor choices in my diet. Just for fun and chuckles, the van whimpers to a stop in the middle of the busiest intersection in Huntsville with traffic flowing all around me.

I cannot tell you the number of times decent, Christian, Bible-thumping people have offered me a friendly ‘Hawaiian Hello’ as I sat there pitifully stalled and hoping that the jackass without any regard for others who is honking his horn and yelling at me because he's in a hurry to get to his destination won’t turn me into a giant dreidel as I block the intersection.

Though his windows are closed to encapsulate his precious A/C, I am a really good lip reader and I'm sure his Sunday School teacher didn't teach him any of those words, unless she served time in Sing-Sing.
My personal favorite moment of non modern accouterments always involves the "ancient but given to us for free" lift for the van. Seeing as how the van is the transportation for Jared, our handicapped son, the lift is always a source of amusement, aggravation and agony as the lift will let us down in plays just to show us who is the boss.

I have had my hand smacked so hard that I couldn’t use my fingers for days. The lift comes up part way, then for whatever reason, the lift cables go slack leaving the lift hanging out of the door openings by about 4 degrees. Just down enough to prevent closure, but not down enough to be in the ‘out and deployed’ position.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, or touch in this case, and I reach around the edge of the lift base to hit the one remaining switch that will close it. This is always a risky procedure. The lift can decide to suddenly take up the slack painfully pinioning your left hand between the lift and the switch arm. Unless you are part ape, the other still free right arm is not long enough to go around the lift platform to free you, nor is there space between the edge of the gate and top of the door frame to go over the gate before all circulation is destroyed. So, you twist and dance and wince as you drag wounded and bruised flesh from its temporary prison.

I am trying to be thankful. Thankful because I am not going out to the barn to hitch up the yoke of oxen to my Conestoga for a ride into Dodge City. Thankful because I am not totally without resources most of the time. Thankful because the aforementioned vehicle is paid for… warts and all.

I don’t play the lottery but it is a sore temptation. My only concern is that if I happened to play it and win, is it an unforgivable sin? Or only a way to discover familial relationships best left buried? Would I go to hell for driving a vehicle with a real warranty on it? Or is it a sin just to think about getting something new? Am I evil for not wanting another used car?

These are questions I would be willing to have answered if I had the money to do so. But as it is, I am left with the van and its idiosyncrasies.

Perhaps the van is actually a reflection of its driver. I wonder.

Please keep your answers to yourself as I am truly afraid to know the truth.

NOTE: As a bizarre addendum to this post, and in the interest of total disclosure, I was driving to the school to pick up Jared on August 20th and hit a huge pothole in the road. Instantly, I was blessed with MORE speakers, which created surround sound, and rewarded with more radio stations, including the country station I prefer to listen to rather than the grinding and squealing noises of the van's engine.

I only wonder how long this blessed state of musical interlude will last. I fear that it will have disappeared by the time I turn the key in the ignition the next time because I lack the money to keep the dang thing running 24/7 just so I can have music while I sweat and drive.