Yesterday, my Harlee-girl and I spent the day together.
She slept in while I got my morning routine finished, then I woke her up to head to the school.
I had a few things I needed to get organized before staff and students came back today.
After a few hours in my office, we grabbed some lunch and went to get pedicures...the last little treat for her 12th birthday.
She decided on a manicure and I got my toes done.
When we were finished, there was time for her to spend a gift card that she got for Christmas and to pick up my WalMart grocery order, before heading to get our eyebrows waxed and my hair cut.
Here’s a little before & after of the eyebrows...her first experience having them waxed!
I took off my tennis shoes and peeled off my socks...or tried to.
But they were STUCK to my big toes.
“Oh no. This is not good.” I thought.
Sure enough...my toes had not been dry when I put my socks and shoes back on at the nail salon.
No worries though...I think they’re fine.
Just a little added texture.
Over the last week, I have had three separate situations that have been less than ideal.
And yet, in all three instances, I was able to find humor.
Last Tuesday morning, we had a 10:00 a.m. start at school because of the temperatures. However, I had to be to school for a meeting around 7:00 a.m. I rolled into the parking lot and got out of my vehicle at 7:03. The meeting was supposed to start at 7:15 and I was feeling good about being there early.
As I headed towards the school building, I stepped down off of the curb onto one of the only patches of ice in the parking lot. I went down to the ground and I went down fast. I fell straight forward and as I tried to save my Sonic drink, my right elbow took the brunt of my fall.
Because there were two witnesses to the humiliating experience, I bounced right up and pretended like everything was fine. I had smashed my cup under the weight of my body and I was soaking wet with ice cold water and bits of strawberry all over my coat. I started the trek into the building and that is when a thought popped into my head.
We have surveillance cameras that will have caught this entire disastrous situation.
We got through our meeting and I immediately headed down to my colleague's office to pull up the camera footage and have a look.
It was awful.
It was terrible.
It was absolutely hilarious.
We laughed and laughed and laughed. We called our coworkers and I sent the file via text to my family. I ended up posting the video on Facebook and it has gotten over 1,800 hits, so far.
It was a painful situation that turned into an almost joyful occasion for everyone who got to witness it.
I’m sharing the video here to give you a laugh if you didn't get to see it on my Facebook page.
Wednesday morning, although I woke up sore from the fall, I knew I needed to leave the house by 5:50 to make it to the school by 6:30 to leave for a conference. I walked outside at 5:40 to start the car and Mr. Farmhouse asked me to start his truck also.
"Sure," I mumbled, as I faced the freezing temps on the deck.
I got my vehicle started and went to his old farm truck.
It's a manual. The parking brake apparently doesn't work all the time. AND the little map of what gear you are in is all worn off the gear-shifter.
So I get the truck started and try to put on the emergency brake. Nothing.
I take my foot off the clutch and start to roll.
Try the brake. Nothing. Roll.
I repeated this process AT LEAST 15 times.
No matter how far I moved up or back, I couldn't find a flat enough place to keep the truck from rolling.
I didn't have my cell phone on me to call Mr. Farmhouse and see what his advice would be, so I started honking the horn.
You have to understand that the horn DOES NOT HONK like a normal horn. It sounds like Beaker off the Muppets.
I honked and honked and honked...no response from Mr. Farmhouse.
I tried the parking brake about ten more times and FINALLY it took.
I got back inside and looked at Mr. Farmhouse.
Me: Could you not hear me for the last 15 minutes honking the horn on the feed truck?
Mr. Farmhouse: Oh, is that what that noise was?
Me: Uh, yeah. The parking brake wouldn't stick.
Mr. Farmhouse: Yeah, it does that sometimes. It's so annoying.
Me: Yes, yes it is. And now I'm almost twenty minutes later than I wanted to be.
Mr. Farmhouse: Not good.
I got the girls in my vehicle (that was PLENTY warm at this point) and I dropped them off to my parents.
And then I started laughing.
The mental image and leftover soreness from the fall the previous day, combined with the situation of me literally being stuck in the feed truck for 20 minutes with no help just got to me.
I giggled almost all the way to work to meet my coworker that I needed to go to the meeting with (I was only three minutes late!).
At this time, we hopped into the car quickly (no icy parking lot this time, thank goodness!) and headed north to pick up another colleague.
We put his home address into Google Maps and started following the directions.
The navigation system took us northeast of the school about 35 minutes and when we pulled into the driveway, nobody came out.
We assessed the situation.
We were in the driveway of a house (I thought this coworker lived in an apartment).
An unfamiliar car in the driveway.
Christmas lights on the porch.
I called him. No answer.
I thought I remembered this coworker living in Overland Park...not Grandview.
So we accepted the fact that GPS has led us astray and we started heading in the opposite direction of where we needed to go.
I kept trying to call and text our coworker, but to no avail.
We hit MAJOR rush hour traffic going west on I-435 and we had resigned ourselves to the fact that we were going to be late.
The driver who I was riding with was NOT happy.
He is ALWAYS at least 20 minutes early when he needs to go somewhere. He is prompt for every meeting and it makes him crazy to walk in late somewhere.
So the fact that we were sitting in traffic facing west when our meeting was east just struck me as funny.
I started giggling and looked over at him.
Not even a crack of a smile.
Which made it even funnier to me.
I ended up Facetiming Mr. Farmhouse to share our situation with him and he didn't think it was funny...until I turned the camera to Mr. Grumpy Pants in the driver's seat.
Still no smile.
Now I absolutely cannot control the laughter.
The elbow pain from my fall the previous morning,
the 15-minutes in the feed truck rolling frontwards and backwards as I tried to engage the parking brake,
and now the mix-up on the address of our co-worker.
It was all too much.
And then my cell phone rang.
It was the guy we were picking up.
Me: Hey! You finally found your phone and saw my missed calls and text messages! We got a little mixed up, but I think we're headed to your house now. What city do you live in? The address didn't have a town listed on there.
Coworker: It's actually a KCMO address, but basically Grandview.
Me: Uh. Do you have a little brown car in the driveway and Christmas lights on your porch?
Coworker: That's the one...are you here?
Me: Not exactly. Give us half an hour.
Driver: You've got to be kidding me.
Sometimes you just have to laugh.
Still laughing in the farmhouse a week later,
A little over a year ago, we decided to take the plunge and buy an older car and sell our loaded Yukon to get out of debt faster.
We found a 2004 Bonneville at our local car lot and named him “Dave”.
Dave was great.
He was a one-owner vehicle that had mainly been driven on the highway back and forth to the city each day.
He had leather seats and enough room in the backseat that the girls wouldn’t be completely squished when we drove anywhere.
We were giving up heated seats that worked, a DVD player, and lots more room in the name of better gas mileage and debt-reduction.
The Yukon didn’t sell right away, so it sat in our driveway for a few weeks.
This was just enough time for us to realize that Dave had some problems.
When I was driving to work, about the time I hit 60 mph, Dave would start shaking uncontrollably. To fix this problem, I drove 59 for a few weeks. By that time, we were able to afford a few new tires and that seemed to help.
A week or two after that, Dave started having some transmission issues. So we took him to the mechanic’s shop.
Thank goodness we still had the Yukon.
By this time, it was almost comical that we had two vehicles to care for and no less debt than we started with. So as sort of a joke, I named the Yukon “Ramsey”.
We got Dave up and running again, $421 later.
So I listed Ramsey for sale again on Facebook.
I didn’t drive Ramsey for a few weeks, until I needed it to haul a piece of furniture out to the new house.
I started Ramsey’s engine in late June, and realized that something was wrong with his air-conditioning.
So I took down the “for sale” listing and we made an appointment to have the air conditioning fixed.
The AC just needed a charge. Only $125.
After getting that taken care of and using Ramsey to haul things out to the farmhouse when we moved, Mr. Farmhouse and I decided it was time to tell Ramsey goodbye forever and start driving Dave full time.
By the time school started, I had been driving Dave again for a few weeks.
We were going to take Ramsey to CarMax and get rid of him once and for all over one weekend in late-August.
That Friday, Dave started making a funny noise on the way to school. The RPMs would fly up and I started to feel a catch when I tried to accelerated.
It got worse and worse.
So back to the shop with Dave.
We put the sale of Ramsey on hold...again.
I got used to driving Ramsey again. The girls got used to having the DVD player again. I got used to the heated seats when my lower back was bothering me at the beginning of the school year.
And then one morning, I pushed the button to open the back hatch and it didn't work.
Come on, Ramsey!
Sure enough, something was wrong in the power lift gate and we needed to take it in to the shop to get it fixed.
But Dave was in the shop.
So we would just live with it.
At this point, we have figured out that Dave is probably not worth the money we paid for him and the Ramsey is probably not going to get sold either.
We'll just cut our losses, use the debt snowball to pay Ramsey off soon, and drive them both until they physically die.
Last weekend, the girls had a few friends in Ramsey with us as we drove to a volleyball tournament.
Now that we live on gravel, neither vehicle is ever clean.
I pushed the button to spray windshield washer fluid on the back glass and the two girls in the third row seat started saying, "What is that? Something is dripping! I'm getting wet!"
Sure enough...somehow the windshield wiper fluid was spraying into the backseat.
I made a mental note to have Mr. Farmhouse check that little situation out after church the next day.
Several minutes later, I accidentally hit that button again as we were driving down the road.
But no water this time.
Instead, I heard the familiar click and warning sound that the back hatch was opening.
The windshield wiper fluid button had made the power lift gate unlatch.
I admit, I laughed.
What else do you do?
So it seems Dave and Ramsey will both be in the Newkirk family 'til death do us part.
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