Saturday, December 4, 2010

Will the TSA Consider my Sharp Tongue a Weapon?

Generally,  I try to be nice, respectful and professional.  At work I aspire to maintain a calm gentleness, consider my words carefully and always offer to revisit processes with co-workers . . .  for the tenth time . . . as if it were the first.   When it’s gossip time for the girls, they tell me I am certain to add the sole compliment “Oh, but she has such beautiful eyes.”  

Boy, do I have them schnuckered! My husband knows ALL ABOUT my “gentle nature.”   Oh, and those “kind words”-  well, we have “cook’n words” around here.  I’ve spent more than one confession discussing my penchant for “cook’n words.”   As a result, the kids have been banned from the kitchen since 1985.  I wish I could say the same.

If anyone read the last post where I discussed my (love/desire/lust) for coffee, well it ended up getting me in some pretty hot water yesterday, no pun intended.   I have a 1999 Desert Tan Jeep Cherokee.  Together we have chalked up 212,000+ miles.  This car is my heart’s desire and its tires were bald.  So, on my vacation day, the use it or lose it kind, I had an appointment when all I really wanted to do was to curl up in my recliner with a warm cuppa joe and harvest my FarmVille crops.  Yeah, I know it’s lame, but I love my virtual farm and all the nice ladies that are my neighbors, even though I have actually never met most of them.

 I’m late- which is very unusual for me.  I’m flying around here trying to get dressed and my hair isn’t cooperating.  I can’t find my tennis shoes and I’m packing the wrong purse.  My husband makes crack about something and I snap back.  (Cook’n word number one).   I didn’t get my coffee quota or breakfast and I’m in no mood.

I am driving behind my husband as we’re on our way to the tire shop.    It’s located just off the highway but about 40 miles from our house.  I don’t typically travel in that area and there has been some major construction so I want to follow him.  This started out great, until he got across the railroad tracks just before all the lights flashed, warning bells sounded and safety gates came down.   Not a problem.  Eighty five trains travel through town daily, I’m used to it and besides, I have a few minutes to spare.  Just as it is almost through the crossing, here comes another train in the opposite direction on the adjacent track.   I am stuck in Train Hell.   And the cook’n words are starting to form. Just.  .  . Remain . . . Calm.   I call my husband, who is waiting on the other side of the tracks, and tell him to go without me, so at least one of us arrives on time but just then, we get the All Clear sign. 

So, we’re dropping off the car a bit early.   My husband’s truck needs tires as well.  This means that we have no spare vehicle to go somewhere while the tires are being replaced.   It’s cold- somewhere in the 30s-- but there is a big box bookstore across the parking lot.   Maybe we can get some coffee, pick up a few gifts and then do something when one of the vehicles is completed.  Right?   Oh, oh.  It doesn’t open for 10 more minutes.  (Cook’n word) it’s cold out here.   “No, I did not wear a heavy coat.” I tell my husband.  “It’s in the car.   I don’t want to carry it while I’m shopping, along with my giant purse (that holds my sunglasses, money, tissues, cell phone and all the other extremely important things that girls can’t live without) plus carry packages.”   In my mind I end with “wallet boy.”   (Sorry, honey). 

After the employees have their daily inspirational meeting, in plain view of the shivering lady pawing at their door, the store finally opens.  We pick up a few things and I decide this was my opportunity to get that cup of warm, sweet brew with just a touch of creamer.  Do you know how much they want for a small cup of coffee?  It was a quarter of the cost of my 34.5 oz tub! Add a doughnut, since I had not eaten for almost 24 hours by this time, and we would have been well over half the cost.  Sorry.  No way.  We decided to pay for our book purchases and go back to the tire shop- they have coffee. 

What?  No coffee?  Why is the thermos empty?   Wait.  Wait.   Hold the Cook’n Words.     You’ll make more?  We’re are spending $1,500 today.  Worth making a cup of coffee?  Thanks. 

Hey, my car is done! Let’s go find something to eat. By this time it is after 11 AM.    I ask my husband to drive because he really is better at getting around that part of town but no, he wants me to see how the car feels.  OK, I’ll drive, but I don’t wanna!  So I go around the parking lot to an exit.  “Wait,” my husband says, “it’s better if you go that way.”   There’s a delivery truck that way, but whatever, that’s the way we’ll go.   I pull back around and start to turn left down the aisle.   “No, go straight” he says.    What? I turn right, oh (cook’n word)  there’s a car.  Why am I going this way?  I thought I was supposed to go the other way.  Well, now that I drove over here, there’s a closer exit onto another road that will meet the one I need to be on.  Cook’n words abound.  Why the (cook’n word) didn’t you drive the (cook’n word) car in the first place, like I asked?  

I’m close to a sugar crash by this time and I just want to get to the restaurant.  It’ll all be OK when I have had something to eat.  We get to the restaurant.  The signature appetizer is fried pickles -  really.  They are wonderful.  They are hamburger sliced dills with a tempura breading, deep fried and served with a sauce which must be a combination of ranch and horseradish, perhaps?   Truly great,  warm and salty.

The waitress comes over to our table to hand us the menus.  She asks my husband if he would like something to drink, took his order and started walking away.   As an afterthought, she turned around to me and said.  “Did you want a drink?” 

Guess what-  she did not have beautiful eyes.  Nope, not a bit.   I’m not saying anything bad about her mind you, (keep the cook’n words to myself).  She came back a bit into the meal and asked my husband if everything was OK with his fish n’ chips.   She smiled when he said it was fine and . . . then . . walked  . .  away.    “Hey lady,” I’m thinking, “ how was my meal ? “  and “Lady, do you know if I need anything more to drink?”   Nope.   Her eyes are getting less beautiful by the minute.

I’m a great tipper, always have been.  Waitresses don’t have it easy.  They work their tails off, keep smiles on their faces regardless of how irritating the customers are, and have to give up some of their money to tip the bartenders and busboys their set percent, regardless of how much  the tip actually was.   I was not such a great tipper yesterday.   When the bill arrived- given to my husband of course, I told him to tip her only 15% and then deduct a buck.   Maybe she noticed, maybe not, but she was terrible. 

Did the day get better now that our vehicles are up and running? Yeah, right.   No, the day did not get better.  I’m used to bald tires, my front end still needs repair and afterward I need an alignment. The car, not me.    Now it shakes and jerks on the highway.  I was scared to death to drive. What did that bad man do to my car?   I called my husband and used every cook’n word in the book plus a few I made up along the way.  He drove it and thinks it’s just peachy.   You know what I think?   (Cook’n words). I hope your day was better.

PS:  I drove the car today- still shakes and jerks. 


Mary Christine said...

thanks for that. I never heard of cook'n words before - but I think I have uttered them -often.

Catawissa Gazetteer said...

Well, Mary Christine, if you've never heard of cookin' words then I'm sure you could never be prepared for tree trimmin' words.

Last night the tree was brought from the attic, preceded by mumblings and imprecations normally associated more with the movement of troops than the celebration of a holy time.

Soon the branches were flying as fast as the ornaments were hung. Curses filled the air like carols from the bowels of hell. Lights were lit and emotions ran high as my parentage was brought into question and Santa and his reindeer were belittled with vile and pestilent prevarication!

And then, to bring the evening to a crescendo, the cookie baking began!

Our granddaughter will be entering into therapy next week.

Kathy Felsted Usher said...

I never questioned your parentage. You know that I love you, Santa and Rudolph very much but I don't know if I can say the same for the cat who decided to throw up on the Christmas tree skirt. There was a small incident when the branch became separated from the artificial tree- for the third time- after the lights and ornaments were already attached. I was also less than delighted when the baking powder fell from the top cabinet shelf and turned the kitchen into a winter wonderland in the midst of baking the cookies for the exchange today. How nice that you are attending the beer exchange portion of the party with the guys. Lukas Liquors did not have individually packaged 12 packs of homemade cookies for the occasion, believe me, I asked. Nevertheless, what would Christmas be without a little drama? Another story to pass on!