So
It never stopped drizzling since I wrote that last blog. It never actually RAINED, mind you. But it has not stopped drizzling. And it is cold, and so UN-California-like. And I don't like it. So I'm crying UNCLE to the cosmos, and asking for mercy.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Friday, December 7, 2007
Rain, rain
It never rains in California.
Actually, I remember two rains in my childhood. Once, when I was in first grade, it rained and the gutters backed up and the streets flooded. My mom remembers a neighbor coming down the street in a skiff, but I think that must be a memory from her childhhood, not mine. And then once when I was a teenager, it rained. And actually thundered and lighteninged. Wow. THAT was something to behold. We sat out on the porch and watched it. And someone dragged one of my sisters through the mud in the front yard.
What it does do in California is what you or I might call a steady drizzle. The drops hit the windshield and spread to all of a quarter of an inch, or so. And its hard to decide whether to set the wipers at the fastest intermittent and put up with a few seconds of blur between wipes, or set them at the slowest steady and put up with the squeaking as they drag across an almost-too-dry windshield.
It has been drizzling all day. When I picked up the children at homeschool co-op, Carlson's teacher said he had "gotten soaked" at lunch. Wouldn't come in out of the rain. I expected him to be wrapped in a blanket or somebody's coat, with his clothes in a plastic bag. But he was fully dressed in the garments I had put him in this morning, and when I hugged him hello, I could not detect that he had been wet at all, let alone soaked two hours earlier. "Soaked" must be a relative term, as "rain" is a relative term.
It has been doing what passes for raining here, as I said, all day. When I left the house to pick up the kids, the spot under the car was dry. This on a sloped driveway after four hours of steady rain. I laughed out loud.
The first time I ever saw it really rain was in Texas. I called it a storm and the locals laughed out loud. Right in front of me. That spring I experienced a storm, and spent part of it under the bed. (The radio had said, "Tornado Watch" which I later came to realize means "It's raining pretty hard and there's some thunder and lightening, but go about your business and if tornado conditions develop, we'll let you know.")
But where it REALLY rains is Oklahoma. I kid you not. I know you grew up with stories of the dust bowl, and you think of Oklahoma as that forsaken stretch of I-40 that connects Texas to Arkansas. But I tell you what, it rains in Oklahoma. If we had a day like today in Eastern Oklahoma, people would be saying, "I wish it would go ahead and rain if its gonna, and quit threatenin' about it." We'd be trying to decide whether or not to go cut firewood in this drizzle. And we certainly would not be worried about the kids getting soaked.
On a visit to Oklahoma, before we moved there, I saw it rain. My then-husband and I were out in the woods, looking for a likely place to build a house. I felt something hit my head and thought I had been shat upon by a rather large bird. The whole top of my head was wet. Turns out it was a raindrop. One raindrop. I heard it hit my head. PLOP. Then I saw some hit the ground. The footprint from one of those buggers was a good two inches in diameter. By the time we made it the fifty feet or so to the car, we were soaked. Honest to goodness soaked to the skin. No standing in front of the fireplace to warm up; we had to change our clothes. I was taking a poetry class at the time and we were doing a unit on Haiku. I got back to Texas and wrote:
liquid crystal balls
dive-bombing forest, field, stone
Oklahoma rain
Right now, I can hear the rain hitting the ground outside my window. People here would say, "It's raining hard." They would have their wipers on low steady. They would be unable to fathom having them on high, and still not being able to see to drive. Pulling over on the interstate and waiting it out for an hour, because its impossible to procceed in almost-zero visibility would be unheard of. For fog, sure, but rain? That's a hurricane. (The distinction between a hurricane and a tornado is lost in the translation. Don't try.)
Years ago, in Oklahoma, we spent a night in and out of the hall closet when a tornado actually did touch down about 30 miles from our home and was headed our way. We had a closet, about four by four, which was the only "room" in the house that didn't have an outside wall. There were seven of us in there because we were keeping a friend whose mother had gone on her honeymoon. The radio was blaring at us to "Take cover! If you are in the coverage area of this radio station you must take cover immediately. This is not a drill. This is not a warning! You are in danger. You must take cover." We listened as they named town after town as having been hit. We were right in its trajectory. Eventually, we HAD to open the closet door, or suffocate. My little three year-old (now eighteen) crawled out as soon as she had the chance. I told her she had to come back in to the closet. It wasn't safe out there. She said, "I have to get my Binken." I said, "Oh. OK. We can get your blanket if that will help you feel better." She said, "No... we have to get my Binken because the rain monsters are coming and the man said we have to take covers." The tornado passed about half a mile from us. It picked up a trailer house and set back down. On its roof. Killing the occupant.
It never rains in California.
Actually, I remember two rains in my childhood. Once, when I was in first grade, it rained and the gutters backed up and the streets flooded. My mom remembers a neighbor coming down the street in a skiff, but I think that must be a memory from her childhhood, not mine. And then once when I was a teenager, it rained. And actually thundered and lighteninged. Wow. THAT was something to behold. We sat out on the porch and watched it. And someone dragged one of my sisters through the mud in the front yard.
What it does do in California is what you or I might call a steady drizzle. The drops hit the windshield and spread to all of a quarter of an inch, or so. And its hard to decide whether to set the wipers at the fastest intermittent and put up with a few seconds of blur between wipes, or set them at the slowest steady and put up with the squeaking as they drag across an almost-too-dry windshield.
It has been drizzling all day. When I picked up the children at homeschool co-op, Carlson's teacher said he had "gotten soaked" at lunch. Wouldn't come in out of the rain. I expected him to be wrapped in a blanket or somebody's coat, with his clothes in a plastic bag. But he was fully dressed in the garments I had put him in this morning, and when I hugged him hello, I could not detect that he had been wet at all, let alone soaked two hours earlier. "Soaked" must be a relative term, as "rain" is a relative term.
It has been doing what passes for raining here, as I said, all day. When I left the house to pick up the kids, the spot under the car was dry. This on a sloped driveway after four hours of steady rain. I laughed out loud.
The first time I ever saw it really rain was in Texas. I called it a storm and the locals laughed out loud. Right in front of me. That spring I experienced a storm, and spent part of it under the bed. (The radio had said, "Tornado Watch" which I later came to realize means "It's raining pretty hard and there's some thunder and lightening, but go about your business and if tornado conditions develop, we'll let you know.")
But where it REALLY rains is Oklahoma. I kid you not. I know you grew up with stories of the dust bowl, and you think of Oklahoma as that forsaken stretch of I-40 that connects Texas to Arkansas. But I tell you what, it rains in Oklahoma. If we had a day like today in Eastern Oklahoma, people would be saying, "I wish it would go ahead and rain if its gonna, and quit threatenin' about it." We'd be trying to decide whether or not to go cut firewood in this drizzle. And we certainly would not be worried about the kids getting soaked.
On a visit to Oklahoma, before we moved there, I saw it rain. My then-husband and I were out in the woods, looking for a likely place to build a house. I felt something hit my head and thought I had been shat upon by a rather large bird. The whole top of my head was wet. Turns out it was a raindrop. One raindrop. I heard it hit my head. PLOP. Then I saw some hit the ground. The footprint from one of those buggers was a good two inches in diameter. By the time we made it the fifty feet or so to the car, we were soaked. Honest to goodness soaked to the skin. No standing in front of the fireplace to warm up; we had to change our clothes. I was taking a poetry class at the time and we were doing a unit on Haiku. I got back to Texas and wrote:
liquid crystal balls
dive-bombing forest, field, stone
Oklahoma rain
Right now, I can hear the rain hitting the ground outside my window. People here would say, "It's raining hard." They would have their wipers on low steady. They would be unable to fathom having them on high, and still not being able to see to drive. Pulling over on the interstate and waiting it out for an hour, because its impossible to procceed in almost-zero visibility would be unheard of. For fog, sure, but rain? That's a hurricane. (The distinction between a hurricane and a tornado is lost in the translation. Don't try.)
Years ago, in Oklahoma, we spent a night in and out of the hall closet when a tornado actually did touch down about 30 miles from our home and was headed our way. We had a closet, about four by four, which was the only "room" in the house that didn't have an outside wall. There were seven of us in there because we were keeping a friend whose mother had gone on her honeymoon. The radio was blaring at us to "Take cover! If you are in the coverage area of this radio station you must take cover immediately. This is not a drill. This is not a warning! You are in danger. You must take cover." We listened as they named town after town as having been hit. We were right in its trajectory. Eventually, we HAD to open the closet door, or suffocate. My little three year-old (now eighteen) crawled out as soon as she had the chance. I told her she had to come back in to the closet. It wasn't safe out there. She said, "I have to get my Binken." I said, "Oh. OK. We can get your blanket if that will help you feel better." She said, "No... we have to get my Binken because the rain monsters are coming and the man said we have to take covers." The tornado passed about half a mile from us. It picked up a trailer house and set back down. On its roof. Killing the occupant.
It never rains in California.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
she sang
Seems the fat lady sang way back in late Sept/Early Oct. My attorney told me this week that I was officially divorced by the judge's summary of findings, even though the final decree has STILL not been filed by "his" attorney. (And we still have all the financial wrangling to do.)
So, as my sister said, "You mean you coulda been hitting the bars all this time?!"
LOL! I think I may just go contra dancing tonight, though.
So, as my sister said, "You mean you coulda been hitting the bars all this time?!"
LOL! I think I may just go contra dancing tonight, though.
Monday, November 19, 2007
River Walk
One of the blessings of living in California is the natural setting. The weather was lovely today, so we took a walk near the river. We dropped by to pick up cousin Leah and meandered all over the river parkway (which backs up to Leah's house).
The grass is very green, after being scorched brown all summer, and many of the trees stay green, too. A few, like a big poplar along the bike trail, turn yellow and drop most of their leaves. This big poplar had a few dozen leaves still clinging to its branches, and the wind was blowing so that they swayed like multiple pendulums on some artsy representation of a grandfather clock.
First stop was to check out "the hobo's place" to make sure it was still uninhabited. This summer there was quite a nice little refuge set up in the shelter of a huge oak whose branches touch the ground. We never saw anyone there, but it was obviously currently in use. One day there was a 'Notice to Vacate" tacked up, and the next time we checked it out it had been obeyed. We wandered through "the forbidden forest" (forbidden because they kids are not allowed to go there without an adult), and the children decided that we must picnic there on Thanksgiving Day. It really was a beautiful setting, with large carpets of green grass under a canopy of big twisted oakish trees (but with green leaves...). Leah changed the name from "the forbidden forest" to "fablehaven."
We also visited a big rock pit. Its probably about the size of the lot my mother's house sits on. The sides are steeply sloped banks of rounded river rocks. They all clambored around on it while I watched from under a tree.
Back out on the path Carlson asked if I would carry him. I told him no because I was probably going to have to carry him all the way back. Unless he wanted to turn back now, he'd have to walk. He said that, no, he did not want to turn back, but one of his feet was getting tired. I asked, "One of your feet?" and he extended his right leg and pointed down at his foot saying, "Yep. This one," then ran to catch up with his siblings and cousin.
The kids found another bunch of old bones, this time obviously a deer. (Still haven't found anyone to identify the human-looking-enough-to-raise-eyebrows vertebra and humerus & ulna they found during the summer. Leah's mother is going to take them to an anatomy professor at the college she attends (he said he could tell her if they were human, but not identify them if they were not), but we keep forgetting to leave them with her.) And we saw a flock of turkeys with a PEACOCK tagging along. I tried to get pictures but only had my phone camera, and couldn't get close enough. Leah says there is a hen peacock as well, but I could not discern one. Amusing sight...this big tom turkey strutting along with a bunch of hens following behind, and a green male peacock craning his neck and struggling to keep up. Funny, as I am typing this I am getting of flashes of Leah leading the big kids around on our walk, and Carlson following after as best he could.
There were a couple of pair of deer meandering casually around in one meadow. They did not seem very concerned about us, but we kept a respectable distance.
When we finally made it to the river there was a white bird--maybe an egret, but kinda smallish--skimming along the river just six inches or so from the water. Beautiful. The kids threw rocks in the river, and I picked up a big partial-dome chunk of white quartz. (I just finished reading "The Day Kennedy was Shot" and could not help thinking,"This is about the size and shape of the piece of his head that was shot off." Sorry. Maybe that's TMI, but its my blog.)
The moon had risen early, and the sun was just dipping behind the trees along the river when we set out for home. Carlson said, "Look! There's half the moon and (turning around) there is half the sun!" I carried him on my shoulders part of the way...the stones he'd put in his jacket pockets making an odd sound as they rubbed together so close to my ears. The big cousins stayed just far enough ahead of us that I could see them most of the time. I grieved--am still grieving a little--that our world is too dangerous a place for them to be free to run around this kids' paradise unattended. What a great childhood memory it would have been for them to spend this time (and many, many times like it) with their cousin, making up games and planning where to build their "houses" without mom/aunt tagging along at a safe distance.
The grass is very green, after being scorched brown all summer, and many of the trees stay green, too. A few, like a big poplar along the bike trail, turn yellow and drop most of their leaves. This big poplar had a few dozen leaves still clinging to its branches, and the wind was blowing so that they swayed like multiple pendulums on some artsy representation of a grandfather clock.
First stop was to check out "the hobo's place" to make sure it was still uninhabited. This summer there was quite a nice little refuge set up in the shelter of a huge oak whose branches touch the ground. We never saw anyone there, but it was obviously currently in use. One day there was a 'Notice to Vacate" tacked up, and the next time we checked it out it had been obeyed. We wandered through "the forbidden forest" (forbidden because they kids are not allowed to go there without an adult), and the children decided that we must picnic there on Thanksgiving Day. It really was a beautiful setting, with large carpets of green grass under a canopy of big twisted oakish trees (but with green leaves...). Leah changed the name from "the forbidden forest" to "fablehaven."
We also visited a big rock pit. Its probably about the size of the lot my mother's house sits on. The sides are steeply sloped banks of rounded river rocks. They all clambored around on it while I watched from under a tree.
Back out on the path Carlson asked if I would carry him. I told him no because I was probably going to have to carry him all the way back. Unless he wanted to turn back now, he'd have to walk. He said that, no, he did not want to turn back, but one of his feet was getting tired. I asked, "One of your feet?" and he extended his right leg and pointed down at his foot saying, "Yep. This one," then ran to catch up with his siblings and cousin.
The kids found another bunch of old bones, this time obviously a deer. (Still haven't found anyone to identify the human-looking-enough-to-raise-eyebrows vertebra and humerus & ulna they found during the summer. Leah's mother is going to take them to an anatomy professor at the college she attends (he said he could tell her if they were human, but not identify them if they were not), but we keep forgetting to leave them with her.) And we saw a flock of turkeys with a PEACOCK tagging along. I tried to get pictures but only had my phone camera, and couldn't get close enough. Leah says there is a hen peacock as well, but I could not discern one. Amusing sight...this big tom turkey strutting along with a bunch of hens following behind, and a green male peacock craning his neck and struggling to keep up. Funny, as I am typing this I am getting of flashes of Leah leading the big kids around on our walk, and Carlson following after as best he could.
There were a couple of pair of deer meandering casually around in one meadow. They did not seem very concerned about us, but we kept a respectable distance.
When we finally made it to the river there was a white bird--maybe an egret, but kinda smallish--skimming along the river just six inches or so from the water. Beautiful. The kids threw rocks in the river, and I picked up a big partial-dome chunk of white quartz. (I just finished reading "The Day Kennedy was Shot" and could not help thinking,"This is about the size and shape of the piece of his head that was shot off." Sorry. Maybe that's TMI, but its my blog.)
The moon had risen early, and the sun was just dipping behind the trees along the river when we set out for home. Carlson said, "Look! There's half the moon and (turning around) there is half the sun!" I carried him on my shoulders part of the way...the stones he'd put in his jacket pockets making an odd sound as they rubbed together so close to my ears. The big cousins stayed just far enough ahead of us that I could see them most of the time. I grieved--am still grieving a little--that our world is too dangerous a place for them to be free to run around this kids' paradise unattended. What a great childhood memory it would have been for them to spend this time (and many, many times like it) with their cousin, making up games and planning where to build their "houses" without mom/aunt tagging along at a safe distance.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Two Funnies
I love little kids and the way they think, interpreting things through what they know.
Funny #1
I am teaching poetry to the 2nd-5th graders in our homeschool co op. (2nd gragers rebelled against being in with K and 1st, so came to my class.) The youngest in the class, Leif, is just seven. I taught them about meter, stressed and unstressed syllables, using their names, and their bodies. "An easy wasy to remember it is if you're stressed, you're kinda on your toes, and when you're unstressed, you're pretty relaxed." So we went around the room and said everyone's full name, rising up on our toes when the syllable was stressed, and flopping rag doll-ish when the syllable was unstressed. A couple of weeks later we did the same thing with lines of poetry.
Leif, my little seven year old, really got it. He would raise his hand every time we read a poem and would say, "It went, DAH duh, DAh duh, DAH duh...." or whatever. A couple of weeks ago he raised his hand and said, "It went UPSET, not upset, not upset, UPSET, not upset, not upset....."
Funny #2
The twins are learning keyboard from video at home this semester. A few days ago, Ruby was practicing a new song. It was in a minor key, with lots of diminished chords--kinda saddish. Carlson came up to me and said, "Mom, this song is hurting my feelings."
Funny #1
I am teaching poetry to the 2nd-5th graders in our homeschool co op. (2nd gragers rebelled against being in with K and 1st, so came to my class.) The youngest in the class, Leif, is just seven. I taught them about meter, stressed and unstressed syllables, using their names, and their bodies. "An easy wasy to remember it is if you're stressed, you're kinda on your toes, and when you're unstressed, you're pretty relaxed." So we went around the room and said everyone's full name, rising up on our toes when the syllable was stressed, and flopping rag doll-ish when the syllable was unstressed. A couple of weeks later we did the same thing with lines of poetry.
Leif, my little seven year old, really got it. He would raise his hand every time we read a poem and would say, "It went, DAH duh, DAh duh, DAH duh...." or whatever. A couple of weeks ago he raised his hand and said, "It went UPSET, not upset, not upset, UPSET, not upset, not upset....."
Funny #2
The twins are learning keyboard from video at home this semester. A few days ago, Ruby was practicing a new song. It was in a minor key, with lots of diminished chords--kinda saddish. Carlson came up to me and said, "Mom, this song is hurting my feelings."
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
What next?
Because I was driving and driving and driving on my birthday, and because we want to start getting together as a family every other Sunday...we celebrated my birthday at my sis's house yesterday. We were not there 10 minutes when Carlson needed something out of the car (My mother's car, actually, because my new car (Evelyn's old car) would not start Saturday morning, deadernadoornail...but that's another blog)
ANYway...Carlson needed something out of the car, so I headed out there to help him get it, stepped off my sister's porch and turned my right ankle HARD on the uneven concrete, caught myself with my left foot and turned it, too, then hit my knees and sprawled out on her driveway amid gasps and hisses from the entourage of kids who had followed me out to the car. Leah (my neice) went to get her mom as I lay there saying, "I don't know!!" to the rapidly repeated question, "Are you OK, Mom?"
I hurt like hell. Both ankles were screaming and I was trying really hard not to. Sis came out and said, "Oh my Gosh! Do you want me to help you up? (I shook my head no.) No. You just want to stay there a minute and recover." She started to retreat, then turned back and said, "Shall I just kick you while you're down?"
Hehehe.
We went on to have a nice time together, with two of my sisters and the one remaining brother-in-law and some of their kids, and a nephew from another sis who came up from college. And, of course, Savage the Wonderdog, my nephew's part Catahula, part unknown origin, amazing puppy.
I spent the afternoon and evening with ice on my right ankle, and when I woke this morning I could not put weight on it. It is not swollen or bruised, though. I just lazed around today alternating ice and heat, and staying off of it as much as possible. (Crawling was not very effective cuz my knees are sore from the fall.) It is a little better this evening, but I'll have to baby it for awhile. (The left ankle is sore, but functional.)
I have a physical therapy appt tomorrow for my right elbow/arm...that I injured in JUNE.
>sigh<
ANYway...Carlson needed something out of the car, so I headed out there to help him get it, stepped off my sister's porch and turned my right ankle HARD on the uneven concrete, caught myself with my left foot and turned it, too, then hit my knees and sprawled out on her driveway amid gasps and hisses from the entourage of kids who had followed me out to the car. Leah (my neice) went to get her mom as I lay there saying, "I don't know!!" to the rapidly repeated question, "Are you OK, Mom?"
I hurt like hell. Both ankles were screaming and I was trying really hard not to. Sis came out and said, "Oh my Gosh! Do you want me to help you up? (I shook my head no.) No. You just want to stay there a minute and recover." She started to retreat, then turned back and said, "Shall I just kick you while you're down?"
Hehehe.
We went on to have a nice time together, with two of my sisters and the one remaining brother-in-law and some of their kids, and a nephew from another sis who came up from college. And, of course, Savage the Wonderdog, my nephew's part Catahula, part unknown origin, amazing puppy.
I spent the afternoon and evening with ice on my right ankle, and when I woke this morning I could not put weight on it. It is not swollen or bruised, though. I just lazed around today alternating ice and heat, and staying off of it as much as possible. (Crawling was not very effective cuz my knees are sore from the fall.) It is a little better this evening, but I'll have to baby it for awhile. (The left ankle is sore, but functional.)
I have a physical therapy appt tomorrow for my right elbow/arm...that I injured in JUNE.
>sigh<
Friday, September 28, 2007
totalled
That is pretty much giving away the punch line, but....
On Labor Day the kids and I spent the morning with my sister and her girls at the river. We left around noon, about the time everyone else started turning up.
We were sitting at my sister's house, visiting, and I heard a noise that sounded like a baseball hitting the side of the house. Just a big "whump." I asked her if she had heard it and she said it might have been her air conditioner coming on, cuz its really loud. (Her house is situated so all the bedrooms and bathrooms are between the living areas and the street.) A few minutes later, a neighbor knocks on the door. I was already up, headed down the hall, so I answered it. He says, "Both your cars are toast." I said, "Pardon me?" He: I guess both those cars out on the road are yours. They're toast." Me: I only have one car out there, but what are you talking about?" He: Your car has been in a wreck." Me: HOW? He: Big truck.
He gestures for me to follow him, which I do.
And there, at the end of the driveway, is my minivan serving as one piece of "toast" for a Ford Explorer sandwich. The other piece of "toast" was a BIG, OLD (80's), chevy silverado pick up. A young man, with his girlfriend as a passenger, was driving the pick up. He was not paying attention to the fact that the road has a curve in it. He never applied the brakes, never knew til it happened that he was heading for a car accident. the police officer asked what he was doing and he mumbled it to her. she raised her eyebrows and said, "You're kidding, right? I hope you learned your lesson."
He plowed into the Explorer almost head-on and pushed it around, so he was crunched into the drivers side, and the passengers side was pushed sideways into my car. The owners of the Explorer (next door neighbors) were gone and couldn't be reached on their cell phones. They came home after the big truck had been towed away, to find their car turned 180 degrees from where they parked it(neighbors pushed it to get the back end out from where it was blocking the street), and crunched on three sides in the front. All she could do was stare and say, "What...? What...? What...?"
My sis lives right on the river parkway, and the fluids from all three cars were running down the street drain that has a tile sign imbedded in the cement saying, "Goes to river; Do not dump." Crazy stuff. My minivan is totalled, with a new engine that has less than 3000 miles on it. So I bought Evelyn's car from her while I was out in Memphis, and she bought Louise's car that has been sitting out at some good friends' place trying to be sold.
Quite the ride, this life. We feel fortunate that it happened while we were safely inside. i had said just a few minutes before, "get your stuff together so we can go home" and sis had said. "Aw you don't have to leave just yet..." Dodged a bullet, I guess.
Buddanyway I did another bat-out-of-hell drive from Oklahoma to mom's house. About 1800 miles in 36 hours. And it was okay! Lots more tollerable in a little compact than in a Penske truck!!
On Labor Day the kids and I spent the morning with my sister and her girls at the river. We left around noon, about the time everyone else started turning up.
We were sitting at my sister's house, visiting, and I heard a noise that sounded like a baseball hitting the side of the house. Just a big "whump." I asked her if she had heard it and she said it might have been her air conditioner coming on, cuz its really loud. (Her house is situated so all the bedrooms and bathrooms are between the living areas and the street.) A few minutes later, a neighbor knocks on the door. I was already up, headed down the hall, so I answered it. He says, "Both your cars are toast." I said, "Pardon me?" He: I guess both those cars out on the road are yours. They're toast." Me: I only have one car out there, but what are you talking about?" He: Your car has been in a wreck." Me: HOW? He: Big truck.
He gestures for me to follow him, which I do.
And there, at the end of the driveway, is my minivan serving as one piece of "toast" for a Ford Explorer sandwich. The other piece of "toast" was a BIG, OLD (80's), chevy silverado pick up. A young man, with his girlfriend as a passenger, was driving the pick up. He was not paying attention to the fact that the road has a curve in it. He never applied the brakes, never knew til it happened that he was heading for a car accident. the police officer asked what he was doing and he mumbled it to her. she raised her eyebrows and said, "You're kidding, right? I hope you learned your lesson."
He plowed into the Explorer almost head-on and pushed it around, so he was crunched into the drivers side, and the passengers side was pushed sideways into my car. The owners of the Explorer (next door neighbors) were gone and couldn't be reached on their cell phones. They came home after the big truck had been towed away, to find their car turned 180 degrees from where they parked it(neighbors pushed it to get the back end out from where it was blocking the street), and crunched on three sides in the front. All she could do was stare and say, "What...? What...? What...?"
My sis lives right on the river parkway, and the fluids from all three cars were running down the street drain that has a tile sign imbedded in the cement saying, "Goes to river; Do not dump." Crazy stuff. My minivan is totalled, with a new engine that has less than 3000 miles on it. So I bought Evelyn's car from her while I was out in Memphis, and she bought Louise's car that has been sitting out at some good friends' place trying to be sold.
Quite the ride, this life. We feel fortunate that it happened while we were safely inside. i had said just a few minutes before, "get your stuff together so we can go home" and sis had said. "Aw you don't have to leave just yet..." Dodged a bullet, I guess.
Buddanyway I did another bat-out-of-hell drive from Oklahoma to mom's house. About 1800 miles in 36 hours. And it was okay! Lots more tollerable in a little compact than in a Penske truck!!
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