Differences

So, just a few minutes ago, a couple hours after Opie and I had gone to bed, someone rang the doorbell.

Twice.

The dogs, of course, went insane. 

I also went insane because we just don't know that many people here in Oklahoma and the people we do know don't "drop by for a visit" unannounced in the middle of the night.

Opie went down to see what was going on and I crept after him, hovering 

around the back door, 9 and 1 already dialed, fully prepared to flee the the house and run for help.

It is interesting to note that while this dog might look big and brave:

he stayed back with me.  He says he was trying to protect me but I suspect he was also ready to flee for help.  However in his defense, he did provide the occasional frightening bark.

Opie then engaged in a brief discussion with our nocturnal visitor about some chick named Trudy and why she wasn't here and when she had moved etc. "I don't know!" Opie kept saying through the closed door.  "Never heard of her!" and basically shut the door in her face. "I could hardly understand a word she was saying," he told me. "I think she was drunk. That or totally high."

After all this, did the woman leave?

No.

She left her car parked on our driveway then walked up the street, clearly in the middle of a life or death substance induced Trudy recon mission. Which I know because I stood peering out the window like a modern day Mrs. Kravtiz (and if you don't know who Mrs. Kravitz is, please keep that info to your self or Google her or something...my looming birthday is making me feel old enough without other reminders from young whippersnappers about my outdated cultural references)

In any case, after rousing another set of neighbors the woman has, I'm pleased to report, returned for the car and driven out of the neighborhood. And Opie and I have returned to bed (but not until we, at my insistence, turned on the lights in the backyard and made sure there was no one lurking in the darkness).

But that's where Opie and my fundamental difference comes in. "That  was weird," he said and immediately went back to sleep--as I type this, he is snoring away next to me like the very soul of snoring snorapotamus.

I, on the other hand, am replaying the entire plot of The Strangers in my head, have locked us all in the bedroom, am jumping at every sound and  and am waiting for the home invading to begin.

So, here's the question: which one of us is acting irrationally?

Silent Sunday

The Oklahoma Department of Transportation Might Be Evil

Ok, let's just get the hard part out of the way right up front:

Opie was right.

 ­

And, yes, that's painful to say. Not because Opie is never right--he's frequently right. He's a smart guy and he makes good decisions (like marrying me!). However, when I have to specifically acknowledge that he was right about something, that usually means that I was wrong about something.

And I really, really hate to be wrong...almost as much as I hate to admit I was wrong.

Here's what happened:

As you may know, I'm a liberal.  Opie is not a liberal. He says that he's basically a Libertarian but the truth of the matter is that I’m pretty sure he's a government hating anarchist.

I base this on the fact that any time a political discussion comes up, he spends a long time ranting about government should keep out of peoples’ business and how politicians are thieves and idiots and all out to screw somebody else.

This is bad enough when it comes to health care, smoking bans, and seat belt laws—all of which are clear examples of nefarious government forces exerting their vicious control over the populace—but don’t even get him started on the Oklahoma Department of Transportation and the numerous toll roads across our fair state. 

Opie maintains of these toll roads are a total scam designed to screw the common man out of his money and line the pockets of politicians.

I, on the other hand, have always been a fan of toll roads, maintaining that the people who use the roads are the ones who pay for them and that's a great and fair thing.

And then I plug my ears as Opie screams things like, “Thieves! The government is full of thieves! Those toll roads were supposed to be paid for in  few years but they're STILL CHARGING TOLLS. Why? To improve all the roads in Oklahoma and have they? NO! All that’s happened is a bunch of rich people got richer and the roads stayed crappy because the government is full of THIEVES!”

I’m not going to lie, it’s a little frightening

But after last Thursday, I might be a bit more on his side.

I was using a toll road as I was driving to my night class in a small town north of Tulsa and as I pulled off I hit a pothole that was roughly the size of the Grand Canyon.

I would like to point out two things before continuing: One, my tires are almost brand-new; we got four new tires for my car less than a year ago.

Two, I was not going excessively fast because I never go excessively fast. I hate to drive and thus I tend to drive like a 90-year-old woman on Valium. I firmly maintain that 70 mph is the speed limit, the limit you understand, you certainly don't have to drive that fast.

And yet, that pothole flattened not ONE but TWO of my tires.

And of course I only had one spare

Which, to be fair, didn't really matter that much as I am almost as likely to disarm a nuclear weapon as I am to change my own tire.

Needless to say, I called Opie and dropped the problem hysterically yet squarely in his lap.

We called AAA,  they came to tow the car; however, because it's a small town in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma and it was after six, the local tire shop had already closed for the night.  So, we had it towed there but we had to leave it overnight and Opie had to drive out to get me.

When we went back to retrieve it the next day we realized that not only did I have two flat tires but one rim was damaged beyond repair and we had to order a new one in from California. Therefore, the shop could only put one new tire on it and we had to use the spare while waiting for the rim to come in.

The screaming and cursing that accompanied this revelation is far too horrifying to relate.

Now, you may be telling yourselves this is was really some bad luck but not proof that Opie is right about the pernicious devils in Oklahoma Department of Transportation.

But the thing is, I'm not done with my story.

We still had to get the car home. Which means that one of us had to drive 50 miles on the tiny and wobbly donut spare tire.

And I'm a strong powerful woman of the modern age (even if I can’t change my own tire) so I offered to do it.

“Give me the keys,” Opie said firmly.

So, once again, I was denied my God-given rights by a male-dominated misogynist society! I feel so oppressed.

In any case, Opie drove home on the horrible donut wheel, traveling on the highway at about 45 miles per hour, getting honked and screamed at and being the recipient of many obscene gestures.

And then when he was about 5 miles from home, he also hit a pothole on the Oklahoma toll road and got ANOTHER flat tire and damaged ANOTHER rim beyond repair.

So the long and short of it is that I am now convinced Opie was right. Because there is no way the Oklahoma Department of Transportation is spending all that toll road money on road maintenance.  The roads are obviously not fit for human transportation.

While I probably (hopefully) won’t start screaming about miscreants and thieves, if I hit another pothole I don’t know if I’ll be able to maintain my somewhat tenuous grip on sanity. 

My Favorite Decade

It's Finish The Sentence Friday and today's sentence was "My favorite decade was..."

Easiest blog post ever...so easy that I'm not even going to finish the sentence with words.  One guess what my favorite decade was:

 This was one of my favorite shirts, I wore it all the time.

This was deep in my "visible undergarments phase."

No, I'm not getting married in this one--it was when I was presented

as a candidate for the Arts Society Ball. 

Which sounds slightly more pretentious than it actually was.

I should probably say something like "This is my favorite decade because I have finally married my darling Opie and we are blissfully happy." But we are still early into this decade--I'll say that in 2020.  Besides, this was when I actually met my Opie.

This is Opie circa 1989-what a blondie bear he was!

Besides, what's not to love: Big hair (you should hear about the time I got a perm), I was soooooo skinny (though I thought I was fat, go figure), I had no responsibilities, dance music was fun and not so aggressive (Mike Birbiglia has a hilarious bit about this!), and clothes of questionable taste (wasn't a teacher then so didn't care about inappropriate attire!)




FTSF is brought to you by:

Kate at Can I get Another Bottle of Whine with My Morning Quiet Time

Janine at Confession of a Mommyaholic

Stephanie at Mommy, for Real

Finding Ninee

Read other favorite decade posts here:

The Great Cupcake Search -- The Mad Hatter's

I think it's time to face a bitter truth:

The Great Cupcake Search might be making me a little bit completely insane.

I came to this realization a week or so ago when I took the search on the road. I was in the Ozarks for the weekend and decided to check out a little local place called The Mad Hatter's Cupcakes.

I pulled up in front of the store, got out of the car, saw the closed sign in the window and asked a woman passing by if they were closed for the day or forever,

"Permanently," she said.

And I started to cry.

That's right, actual tears.

Don't judge me! Just keep in mind that emotional triggers are weird. See, the whole reason I wanted to go to The Mad Hatter's was the Alice in Wonderland connection.  I love Lewis Carroll's nonsense poem from the book, Jabberwocky. Especially the opening lines:

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son
   The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
   The frumious Bandersnatch!"

It always makes me think of my late, great Chihuahua, Peek-A-Boo because I used to call him the Frumious Peeker-Snatch.

Seriously, doesn't he LOOK frumious?

So I thought of him, got all weepy remembering what a great little dog he was for our 13 years together and started to cry.

And if you, dear reader, still think that was a little odd, you should have seen the poor woman I was talking to. I get the distinct feeling that not too many people walk around the Ozarks weeping over closed cupcakeries. A situation made infinitely more uncomfortable when I told her "Gone forever! Just like the  poor Peekersnatch!"

The thing is, as soon as those words flew out of my mouth, I knew they sounded weird (and in retrospect, probably a little dirty) so I wanted to explain--and reassure her that I wasn't a dangerous psycho--but I was still upset and not thinking clearly so instead of saying "I'm sorry, I named my dog after Alice in Wonderland." or something normal like that, I chose to sigh and tell her "He was so frumious!"

I think it's safe to say that woman thinks I'm crazy.

Final Verdict:

Cake & Icing: Non existent

Sanity: Questionable

All in all an experience that makes me laugh now but also makes me wonder what in the world that other woman is writing on HER blog.

Stay tuned for future installments--especially those that might include actual cupcakes--or let me know if there's a cupcakery you recommend by clicking here. Or read the post that started it all: The Great Cupcake Search.

Are You Kidding Me?!

Finally participating in Finish the Sentence Friday again but I should probably start this post was saying that I do love my job. I've been a teacher for over 15 years and now that I'm teaching college instead of high school, I actually love it even more.

But it's midterm time and even though I love my job and most of my students there's just something about this time of year when what I really want to scream out loud is "Are you flipping kidding me?”

(Actually, there's another word I'd like to insert for "flipping" but I am an educator, molding young minds, I should at least pretend to be appropriate).

Anyway, the problem is, this is the make or break point—the time of year a few of the kiddos realize that this isn't high school anymore and that there is a really good possibility that, if they don’t start doing some actual work, they will probably fail.

Some of them decide that means it’s time to get it in gear. Some of them decide to drop. And some of them decide that, perhaps, I’m not too bright and they can continue slacking off but somehow convince me they are dedicated students.

One of my favorites of these conversations was with a girl who told me she was going to miss the midterm test with me the following Friday because she was going to have an emergency appendectomy.

“Wow,” I said. “You know you're going to have an emergency appendectomy on Friday? Two days in advance?

“It's been coming and going,” she agreed. “The doctor said we should just wait and see how it goes.”

Which, call me crazy, doesn’t sound like an emergency appendectomy to me.

“I know it's weird,” she said.

“Borderline unbelievable,” I agreed. “And you know what else is weird? The fact that you have a loud voice, just like I do, and before class I could hear you talking to your friend about going to Oklahoma City this weekend for her 21st birthday.”

She didn't even have the good grace to look embarrassed.

“So,” she said after a long pause. “When can I make the midterm up?”

“The day after never,” I told her. Which I thought was kind of funny (she did NOT agree). But, seriously, are you flipping kidding me with that? Could you at least trying to come up with a plausible story? One that doesn't completely insult my intelligence?

Then just I was ready to throw in the towel and declare our future generation beyond saving one of my best students approached me. He doesn’t have the best grade in the class but he does his work, he turns everything in on time, he pays attention in class, and he really seems to want to learn.

Plus—and I’m not proud of this—he laughs at my jokes.

Not in a suck up, “you’re so hysterical, you’re the funniest woman I've ever heard” way but in a “I totally got that and we have the same sense of humor” way.

If there any students reading this, trust me when I tell you laugh at your teacher’s jokes. It won’t get you an A but it will make her feel better.

In any case, we frequently talk after class because English is his second language and that’s always a struggle in a writing class. Today he stopped and asked me if, even though it wasn't in the scope of our class, would I be kind enough to give him my wise advisements (yes, he actually used those words ‘wise advisements.’) about a scholarship opportunity he'd been sent.

And thank goodness he did because it had scam written all over it.  “You shouldn’t have to pay $8,000 to get scholarship information,” I assured him. “Most of the information is out there, free of charge.  These people are trying to steal your money.”

Then I showed him how to research it on the Internet and check the Better Business Bureau (this group got an F rating, by the way) and so on.

“My father and I worried over this,” he said gratefully. “And he told me to ask a teacher because they would give me the wise advisements.”

And just like that I love my job again.

For other scream out loud posts, please click below:

The Great Cupcake Search -- Cupcakes By Lu

Opie and I are still trying to lose weight.

Which, once again, means that Opie is still losing weight and wandering around the house saying things like "Hey, these pants fit again!"

Meanwhile I am pretending to be happy and supportive but am secretly seething with resentment and muttering profanities under my breath.

Which may sound like a reason to eschew The Great Cupcake Search.

As a matter of fact, Opie even suggested this radical course of action. Which is, of course, complete insanity.  I mean, why don’t we just give up red wine and move into the woods and live like savages??!!

As Patrick Henry's wife would have said (if, of course, Patrick Henry's wife had been a chubby chocolate fiend) "Give me cupcakes or give me death!"

It has, however, added a new criterion to the judging process. Now, in addition to evaluating taste and texture and other culinary details, I also have to decide if the cupcake’s caloric value is worth the extra time on the medieval torture machine that Opie bought to help us on our weight loss journey.

If you’re a fan of late-night infomercials, you may be familiar with the exercise equipment known as the Bowflex Treadclimber. If you haven't, no worries, just picture the most exhausting, ridiculously hard, exercise machine ever created.

It's supposed to burn 700 calories an hour. And it might, but right now I'm on that thing five minutes and I'm pretty sure my heart is going to explode.

So it was with all of this in mind that I went into our newest cupcakery find: Cupcakes by Lu.

And the thing is I really, really wanted to like them. The shop is convenient, I met the owner—Lu herself—and not only is she sweet and adorable, she has an economy-sized bottle of hand-sanitizer on the counter and used it twice when I was in the shop. Clearly, a fellow germaphobe!

And, best of all, they have a punch card—once you buy 12 cupcakes, you get one free.

Is interesting to note that Opie thinks the punch card thing is kind of silly.  He's all "You're basically spending 30 dollars to get 1 free cupcake!" Whereas I think "Hey, the more cupcakes I buy, the more cupcakes I get!"

So, I started my punch card with a cake that I assumed would be a sure winner: M&M Fun—chocolate with buttercream frosting and garnished with M&Ms.

Anyway, as I said, I really wanted to like them...But I didn't.

The cake itself was fine. Light, fluffy, chocolatey.

But the frosting was also light and fluffy. Too light and fluffy—a whipped buttercream that was too heavy on the butter and too light on the sugar.  When I eat a cupcake, I like it to be smothered in a frosting that smacks you in the face with sweetness.

Don't get me wrong, they weren't awful--I certainly didn't spit them out like I did with the black anise cupcakes of death that prompted this whole search--but they were only ok...

Final verdict:

Size: Average

Price: Average ($2.50)

Cake: Good

Frosting: Not sweet enough.

Overall, I'd eat them in a cupcake related emergency but they're not good enough to spend an extra 15 minutes on the treadclimber...though I'll probably give them a second chance down the road because, after all, PUNCH CARD!