this lady looks distressed, doesn't she?

but guess what. 

she has it easy.

see the sun shining through the trees behind her?
see her long-sleeved cozy sweater? {...even though the sun is shining through the summer-leafed tree...}
see her perfect hair and manicured nai...oh wait. that's not relevant.

one wednesday morning...well, no...actually, it was a tuesday night...i unwittingly locked my keys in my car because i didn't immediately get out after i turned off the car. i was on the phone, so i took out the keys, put them on the seat beside me, and sat in the car for about 10 minutes. when i was done, i picked up my purse and coat, stepped out of the car, locked the door, shut it, and went inside.

but i didn't realize my mistake until wednesday morning...5 minutes before Joey needed to leave for work in my car.

now.

under normal circumstances, i would've gotten a wire hanger, finagled it into the car thru the crack, and hit the unlock button.

BUT.

during the night, it had iced. and it was still under 20 degrees outside {chill factor of 5 degrees, by the way}, which meant that the door was frozen shut. 

no way was i going to stand outside {in the freezing cold} and try to push thru the thick layer of ice barring my way to the unlock button.

so we called the locksmith thinking that it would cost around $40. he finally came 30 minutes later. and, standing in the freezing {freezing freezing} cold in my pajamas, he said that it would cost...wait for it...$100.

yes.

you heard me.

one hundred. bucks.

no way. hosea.

and i told him so. to his face. {in the freezing cold.}

not in those words, of course.

but he took pity on me and offered to call his boss and see if he'd let him knock it down a bit. which his boss did. 30 dollars worth.

i had no choice. i had to accept. {in the freezing cold}

blah.

a few days later, Joey asked if he could borrow my car to take to work. so i went to find the keys. i looked in my purse. in my room. in my pockets. on the bar. on the couch. in the couch cushions. 

no luck.

here's how my thought process went.

"oh no...i didn't immediately (please, God) get out of my car this afternoon (please, God, don't let them be locked in). this is horrible. OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod."

{please don't misunderstand and think that i was taking His name in vain. no. it was a genuine plea to Him.}

i ran out to my car and peered through the glass. 
there they were. 
on the seat. 
just like before.

 my inner Luke Skywalker yelled, "Nooooooooooooo!!!!!" 
{yes, i did just reference Star Wars and reveal my nerdity.}

 i walked back into the house, head hung low, and told Joey.
Joey, being the sweet man that he is, didn't tease me, didn't heave a sigh.
he just said he would look at it and see if he could get it out. 
we went out to the car.
Joey tried the door handle.


and it opened.

and Joey, being the annoying man that he is, teased me unmercifully. {i love you, Joey.}

now.
would i rather lock my keys in the car than have my car stolen because i was dumb enough to leave the keys in it with the door unlocked?
yes.
but God was merciful to me.
He let me be dumb.
{oh wait...He doesn't have to let me. i can do that all by myself.}

the moral to this story ----
always, always check to make sure the car isn't unlocked.

it caught my eye that several of my labels are put only on one post each. this post is to fix that.

i like working, especially if i get paid for it.    ...duh.

technology is crazy awesome these days. if you watch sci-fi movies from 5 years ago, their technology is just the same as ours is today. "it's just the same today, it's just the same today..."

"march comes in like a lion, what else? still the snow never melts..."

i like going places where lots of people are. it recharges my battery.

teddy roosevelt

i don't think i'd ever be able to vote with a certain party. i'll probably always be independent.

"i think that i shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree..." or something like that.

i'm almost at the length where i can get another haircut. i'm in the middle of growing my hair out. next stop: lily allen-esque shoulder length hair.

george grant's speech impediments have lessened over the years.

things are always funnier when it's a fat kid. think about it...jumping...running...sliding down the bannister...

my uncle joe digs up dinosaur bones.

i could be a very crafty person if i had the materials. crafty as in...craft lady...not foxy crafty.

alcohol makes me need to use the bathroom.

my husband had better be this way...please, God.

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

by Marge Piercy