Rattled

My best friend and I were in a car accident last week. A car of teenagers flew through a red light and t-boned my friend's van. The driver of the other car broke her wrist, but still found the energy to leap out of her crappy turquoise car and start screaming at my friend, "You ran the red light!"

As if. I guess that means that all of the other driver sitting patiently at the traffic light going the same direction as the teenage missile were mistaken? Or coincidentally all from a country where it's considered a courtesy to stop at green lights?

We were lucky not to have any injuries, although my friend's van had to be towed to a repair shop. Because none of the third-party witnesses bothered to call the police or stop to check if we were OK, my friend will likely have to pay her full deductible. The police cannot declare either party at fault unless they (the cop) actually witnessed the accident.

My friend and I have totally opposite reactions in times of stress. In the minutes following the crash, she sobbed and was unable to say anything but, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" I felt completely calm and tried to talk soothingly to her, especially when she began to shake all over, as if she were in shock. I called 911 and gathered her insurance and registration from the glove compartment for the police. By the time her husband arrived, about half an hour later, she was still shaky and upset. I felt eerily calm and rational.

By mid-afternoon, she was back to normal, phoning insurance agents, arranging a rental car, and starting to get royally pissed over the whole situation. I found myself imagining a succession of "what ifs" and became suddenly paralyzed with fear. Thank God the kids weren't with us...thank God she wasn't going faster...thank God we weren't hit into oncoming traffic...

Even now, a week later, I am unnaturally wary about driving. I find myself panicky when a driver out in front of me, even when there's plenty of room. A flash of color in my peripheral vision makes me break out in a cold sweat. I create excuses not to drive across town, when normally I would welcome the chance to get out of the house.

This, too, shall pass, right?

Gearing Up For Bathing Suit Season

Because of the age of my kids and my inability to refrain from bodysurfing when confronted with nice crashy waves, it's an unavoidable fact that I will be forced to appear publicly in a bathing suit within the next three months. The early signs of spring outside my window have prodded me from yoga-panted comfort and general sloth into full-blown Panic Mode. With newfound resolve and verve, I am BACK on TRACK with exercise!

Check it out:

SUNDAY:
1. Do 30 minutes of Wii Fit Yoga.

2. Feel very proud and bendy afterward.

3. Bake chocolate cake layered with whipped cream and strawberries. Serve generous hunks for dessert. Strawberries are fruit, so this doesn't really count as dessert.


MONDAY:
1. Do 45 minutes of abs and upper-body weights.

2. Revel in soreness of arm muscles. Fancy that I can already see some improved definition.

3. Bake double batch of chocolate chip muffins "for the children." Sample two for my evening snack along with a glass of milk. Calcium is important.


TODAY:
1. Take 45 minute exercise walk despite the 20 degree temperature.

2. Feel virtuous.

3. Whip up batch of homemade granola with extra coconut and pecans. Everyone knows granola is health food.


Does anyone spot a theme here??

Maine: Infinitesimally More Interesting With Leaves.

A couple of weeks ago, in the spirit of get-me-OUT-of-this-God-forsaken-house-before-I-start-killing-people, I suggested that we take a Sunday drive. I knew that a big storm was scheduled to begin its snow dumpage that night, and so help me, if I was going to be stuck inside tomorrow, then I was getting out today. Absolutely anywhere would suit me just fine. It was the "out" part that most concerned me; the details were just gravy. But ideally, our route should intersect with a Starbucks at some point. Ooh, and lunch at some random diner. That would be nice, too. Bug and Bear were initially suspicious of a plan to go for an indefinite drive. They wanted to know where? (Don't know. Around.) For how long? (Don't know. Awhile - bring stuff to do in the car.) They attempted a little preemptive whining, but must have spied the crazy lurking in my eyes because they didn't put much effort into it and eventually wandered off to locate their iPods and DS's.

In the car, they decided to share earbuds and listen to an audio book on Bug's iPod with shockingly little sibling bickerment. There was even some ceremonial sharing of Tic-Tacs. Daddy Shortbread and I quirked an eyebrow at each other but wisely did not comment. That whole catch-them-being-good thing really only works when they're little. At this age, within three seconds of my saying, "I'm so proud of how well you two are getting along!" they feel compelled to stage a skirmish just on principle.

I love the old red brick buildings that line the main streets of most towns here. You miss a lot of the architerctural detail when you're cruising by in your car, but I made Daddy Shortbread slow way down, so I could snap a few appreciative shots.

Sometime in the noonish hour, we pulled into a small diner in Is This Even a Town?, Maine. We enjoyed a modest lunch (for the love of all things culinary, NEVER order the chicken marsala at a diner - stick to the grilled cheese and fries) while attended to by a waitress who was long on charm but somewhat disconcertingly short on teeth.

The drive accomplished its goal of getting us out, but I couldn't help trying to picture the mournful, bare countryside as it will look once the trees leaf out. There is a subtle beauty in wintry fields and trees, but by March I'm done with subtlety and ready for the blatant, in-your-face display of Spring. Come on, baby...

Not Quite Ready

For several weeks now, I've been suspecting that Bug may be catching on to the whole Santa/Easter Bunny charade. She's nine, and kids talk at that age. She's certainly heard the theories by now. Last night, I decided to launch a small fishing expedition with the feeling that if she asks me point-blank, I'll tell her the truth.

Me: Are you excited about Easter?

Bug: Yes!

Me: Do you have any questions about Easter?

Bug (frowning): What do you mean?

Me (wondering how the hell you have this conversation): Well, I just wanted you to know that if there's anything you're wondering about, you can ask me.

Bug: Huh. OK.

Me (trying new tack): Are your friends excited for Easter?

Bug: Yep. (pauses) Of course...(long, thoughtful pause) some of them don't believe in the Easter Bunny.

Me (a-ha!): Really?

Bug: Do you believe?

Me (nodding vaguely, not making eye contact)

Bug: 'Cause sometimes I wonder...I mean...it doesn't make sense that a huge rabbit brings candy all over the world, does it?

Me: Hmm.

Bug: Some of my friends think their parents get up in the middle of the night and put the candy in their baskets.

Me: And what do you think?

Bug (very decisively): I think it's a man in a rabbit suit.

Prayers Answered, Hope Restored

The snow? It is a-melting.

What Serves For Pillow Talk Around Here

Scene: Daddy Shortbread and I have just turned off the bedroom lights. We are both exhausted after a crappy week and grateful to be at that part of the day where it's dark, and you are no longer required to do anything other than sleep.

Also? In addition to my standard two cups of coffee in the morning, I had a grande latte around 3:00.

And a Diet Coke with dinner.

I was TIRED. I still had four hours of awake time ahead of me. It was practically medicinal.

Have I ever mentioned that caffeine late in the day makes me slightly paranoid? Really no big deal. Just thought I'd mention it.

THUMP.

Me (suddenly alert): Hey, did you hear that?

Daddy Shortbread (who knows me well): Yes. It was nothing.

Me: It sounded like one of the cats. Did you put them downstairs? (We put them in Cat Jail aka Our Family Room overnight, as they are wont to do things like frolic on our heads at 2:30 am).

DS: Yes.

Me: And shut the door?

DS (possibly growling): Yesss.

Me: If you're sure... (letting my voice trail off doubtfully)

DS: I'm. Sure.

Me: Oh. Because I'd hate to call 911 and have it be the cat again.

(Remind me to tell you this story sometime).

DS (pretending to sleep):

Me (listening intently): Hey, I know you're not sleeping.

DS: You're not calling 911. There's no way an intruder got into the dining room in the three minutes between me turning off the light and coming to bed.

Me (really getting freaked out): Oh, my God. I hadn't even thought of an intruder!

DS: Well, what the hell did you think it was?

Me (truly freaked out): A cat ghost.

DS: WHAT?

Me (defensively): It sounded EXACTLY like a cat jumping from the dining room table onto the floor.

DS (rolling over): Good night.

Me: But now I'm thinking about intruders. I can't fall asleep.

DS:

Me: I need to you to get up and check the snow outside the window for footprints.

DS (gets up irritably and pretends to peer through window slat): Nothing.

Me: You weren't even looking. Do it again, but use the big flashlight.

DS: Wait a minute. Did you have Diet Coke at dinner?