Do You Like Tasers?

  Over the weekend the man and I went to a local flea market.  I love to go prowl around in the junk looking for some little treasure because you never know what you will find. In one booth I saw some cute aluminum pink flashlights – anything pink will catch my attention at least for a minute. Upon closer  inspection I noticed that the cute pink flashlight had some considerably “un-cute” teeth looking things around the light itself at the end.
As I am turning it this way and that trying to come up with a good reason for these mean looking metal teeth I hear a voice from the back of the booth, with that twang you only hear at a flea market, call out in my direction, “That’s a taser honey. Do you like tasers?”

That question really threw me and actually rendered me without an immediate response. Could “yes” ever be an appropriate answer to that question?  Could that question ever really be appropriate?  What kind of a person “LIKES” tasers?  As my mind was running through these questions, the twangy voice asked me again, “Do you like tasers honey?” I looked at the man and he was watching with a look that said something like – this should be interesting – and obviously had no intention of saving me. I finally found my voice and said, “No”, hoping that would end the odd query, but I was wrong.

“Why don’t you like tasers honey? questioned twangy voice lady. At this point I am completely discombobulated by this line of questioning and, since I simply could not come up with an appropriate response to her latest inquest, I simply set down the now scary pink flashlight that doubled as a taser and quickly walked away.

So tell me – Do you like tasers??

Wait….What Happened to Summer?

Wait a minute.

Weren’t we just at the beginning of Spring?

The flowers were starting to bloom, the sun was shining with a few rain showers here and there and, most importantly, I had gotten out my spring wardrobe and put away my coats, hats, gloves and all the unpleasantness that goes with winter – I’m not a fan.

I have been wearing my cute little white capris with my cute little white keds…life was good and then it happened….

The stupid Polar Vortex.

I woke up yesterday morning and the people on the news were talking about frost warnings.  Are they crazy?!?  We can’t have frost warnings!  I have my little salad garden all set out and starting to grow and my pretty spring flowers brightening my front walk.

It is Spring people!!

As fun as this little polar vortex thingy has been, it is time for it to go away and return back up to the land of the frozen tundra – away from Texas!

I do not want to put my coat back on!  I want to wear cute spring clothes not bulky, heavy winter clothes.  It is the middle of April for crying out loud and Easter is this weekend – you can’t possibly expect me to wear a big coat over my new Easter frock!

Winter go away!!

Ok. I’m done now…..

Run in with the Law

Yesterday I was “pulled over” – lights and sirens and all – in the parking lot of a Dallas Police station.  Yes, it does take talent, but it is a gift.

The boy (as my son shall be called in my posts to avoid publicly humiliating him any more than I already do) and I were en route to his soccer practice with a new team.  The practice field was in the crux (don’t know if that is correct use of that word, but let’s just go with it) of several very busy streets in the Dallas area. These were not streets that you could just pull over to the side of without fear of imminent death, but I knew the intersection where the field was and we were told it was right behind a police station. Great – sounds safe at least!

We approach the a fore mentioned intersection and sure enough we see a police station and, as we continue driving, the boy spots soccer goals.  The field has been located! Now where to park. We (yes, I’m also implicating the boy in this because I’m not going down alone) decide to turn into the police station parking lot to see if there is some open parking in the back or something we can use.

It is a large parking lot that goes around almost the entire station but as we look we see that all the spaces are numbered and even though many were empty I was not about to park in a police car’s spot. Thus I begin trying to escape this large yet strangely confining lot and call the organizer of the team to find out where to park.

As I am trying to go back the way I came, which was not nearly as easy as it sounds, the boy pipes up that a police officer standing outside is “watching us hard” – whatever that means. I thought he was just trying to rile me so I said “oh sure he is”.  Then the boy, sounding a bit more stressed, says, “Oh he is on his radio – I bet he is calling someone to come get us!” Again, I think he is making it up because I’m just driving in a parking lot…..

Then it happens….

In my rear view mirror I see the dreaded red and blue lights quickly followed by a siren.  Seriously!?!  I am in a parking lot going maybe 2 miles an hour – he could have walked and caught up to me! Were the lights and siren REALLY necessary!  Anyway, this large male police office strolls, in the way only a police officer can, up to my door and says, “What’s going on?”
Again, SERIOUSLY?!?  How about a – may help you find something or can I help you? – No, he opts for the “What’s going on” like the boy and I are in the midst of some sort of drug deal with a major cartel drug lord.  I mean really there was no reason for that tone.

To paint the picture a little better for you let me describe myself for those that don’t know me. I am 5’1″ (and the 1″ is mostly to preserve  ego) not very big and at that moment I was wearing a hot pink jogging suit, my hair is pulled up in a scrunchee, and I’m driving a very Mom-ish SUV.  I really am not fitting into a career criminal type profile.

After I explain to him that I am looking for the parking for the soccer field he chooses to continue in his “I’m not letting you get away with this you criminal” tone of voice and informs me that there is no parking for that soccer field and that I needed to exit this police only parking lot now.  Ok, enough said. So I am heading, slowly out of the lot when the phone rings and it is the soccer guy whose only response to my predicament was, “oh, I should have told you there wasn’t any parking….”  Hmmm….you think?!?

Most other mothers that have told me stories of being pulled over by police have talked about how traumatized their kids were by the ordeal – well not mine!!!  He thought it was hilarious and just kept laughing. Then, as I am grumbling some possibly un-mom-like thoughts he points at the radio and says, “Look mom!! And that song “Let it go” is on for the 4 billionth time that day and the boy says “Yeah mom. just Let it Go!”  As of this writing the boy is amazingly still alive and well….

Beer Making Kit….Fail

My husband and I met when we worked together years ago – I was his boss (this has no bearing on the story really I just like to bring it up whenever possible).  As the awesome boss that I was (I’m sure they all thought that), when Christmas time rolled around I would spend a significant amount of time trying to find something special for each employee – not just a generic gift card.  One year, I thought it would be fun to get the two guys (my now husband being one of these guys) a beer making kit.  It seemed like a unique and fun gift and I thought they would both enjoy.

Flash forward about 11 years and we have been dating for a bit and are now getting ready to get married.  I have a son from a prior marriage so Gerry was excited about going ahead and turning his guest room into our son’s “man-cave”.  So we started cleaning out the closet which was basically just used for storage prior to this.  We knew that my nephew and his girlfriend were going to be having a garage sale soon so we were setting some items that we wouldn’t need again to put in the sale.

Well, low and behold, hidden way in then back of this closet I see the Beer Making machine that I had given him all those years ago. Initially, I was touched that he had kept it all these years, at least right up until he saw it. This is how that conversation went…

Me: Oh look the beer machine!

Him:  Oh yeah, I forgot about that thing.  I have no idea where I got it but we can stick it in the garage sale pile and see if they can get anything for it.

Me: ….You don’t remember where you got it?
(My tone of voice has changed at this point but he is unaware of what that change means)

Him:  No. And I’ve never even opened it. Why make beer when I can just go out and buy it?
(Can you hear the sound of him digging his hole here?)

Me: ….(I am not actually speaking now but just staring at his back which causes him to turn around)

Him: ….(You could see the horrified look on his face as the light bulb went off in his head)
You gave it to me!

The Beer Making Kit sold in the garage sale.

Freelance Writer