Cleverly Disguised As A Responsible Adult

Peter drove me to the Promenade last week.

It was a strange feeling.

No, we didn’t use my car. He’s a little too big for it, if you know what I mean. And the whole “cute” thing doesn’t fit his personality. Not that he’s not cute, please don’t misunderstand.

We remind him frequently that he’ll make more money when he can drive. The way Quo Vadis operates, it’s always helpful to have a bright, personable, technican who can easily do onsite work and have personal interaction with clients. Despite the incentive, he doesn’t have overwhelming enthusiasm to get out there and practice… but that could just be his laid back, easygoing nature. I don’t know.

He did pretty well, all things considered. There was one moment when I said casually, “slow down…” and he answered indignantly, “I’m going the speed limit!” …and then we almost hit the car in front of us, which had come to a somewhat sudden stop to make  a left turn off Stallings Road.

I’m pretty cool with the whole learning-to-drive thing. My dad tends to get a little …emphatic with his instructions, while my mother brings knitting along to distract her from other vehicles zipping by as the new driver races recklessly along the road. But as I see it, isn’t getting home alive the most important part of driving? That’s pretty much undisputed. So why not have fun along the way, giving someone a chance to make those first-time faux pas… turns that are a little too sharp, struggling to fit into a parking spot, weaving back and forth on the road, getting lost in your own neighborhood…

Dad the Failure

It was the first really hot day in a long time… approaching 80 degrees in the bright sun. The work day was going quite well. All my tasks getting checked off my do-list… and then the call came in. I was on a conference call so Peter answered. The dreaded flat tire.

As a Father you hope and pray that you’ve prepared your children for the hard knocks of life… like flat tires and muggings. <sigh> Turns out my two eldest daughters are stranded on the side of I-485 with a flat tire. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum can’t find the spare tire! Oy!

There goes the opportunity to finish work early… Time to go through the options in my head.

·         Call a tow truck. You’re such a loser. Are you made of money?

·         Send my wife and son. Now you’re a pathetic loser. Send someone else??

·         I can go. <sigh>

I remembered the last time I had a flat tire. Same kind of weather. No money – and no one to call. Man that was a hot day… Well, the good L-rd brings things like this into my life to be a loser – or prove I’m learning. You’ve got to hope and pray my age that I’ve learned something. I read once that when my kids do something – right or wrong – it’s an opportunity for me to turn it into a teachable moment, or a moment of torture. I’ve got the torture thing down cold… <sigh>

Sweetie, don’t get your purse. My work is almost finished. Peter and I will go. “Really?” she asked. “That would be so wonderful!” That earned me three master-class husband points. We’re doin’ OK so far.

“We need to put a little care package together for the girls. It’s hot out there – and they’ve been stranded. Maybe some nuts or something and some cold water.” She was shocked… and surprised, but she helped me quickly get a little bundle together. Peter got a little cooler and it was time to MOTOR. You don’t drive a MINI… you MOTOR. I grabbed my MINI MOTORING hat and into the Cooper we went.

When you’re in a MINI Cooper, it just doesn’t take any time to get anywhere. We were barely through the first few songs of the Holiday Spirit album from Straight No Chaser when we saw the little yellow bug on the side of the road. We got a great reception from the girls, but they were really surprised when Peter gave them the soft cooler… Bing. Two master-class Dad of the Year points.

Now what’s the most frustrating thing that can happen when changing a tire? Besides not having a spare; getting run over by a milk truck or getting hit in the mouth by the lug wrench… I’ll tell you what’s the most frustrating thing that can happen when changing a tire. Yep. You work your butt off in the hot sun jacking that bad boy up; take the flat off; put the spare on and work that jack again… only to find that the spare is flat. <heavy sigh> Maybe if I yell and scream and throw the lug wrench into the woods I’ll fell better… Nah, I did that when I had the flat tire 30 years ago. Took a ½ hour to find the stupid wrench. Besides… I’ve got three of the neatest people in the world watching me. No pressure.

Let me get this thing jacked back up so we can get that spare off and into my brand new, untarnished, very clean MINI… <grrrrr> so we can fill it with air at the gas station.

Now I’m walking the straight and narrow pretty well so far. No cussin’ and I haven’t even busted my knuckles on a wrench or the pavement yet either. Truth be told Peter’s been doing the heavy lifting anyway… And wouldn’t you know it. The girls were almost to the highway exit, so after we get the air, we’ve got to drive 5 miles away from them and then 5 miles back. I’m gettin’ old.

Well, I had forgotten that we were in a MINI. <grin> There and back… the girls barely had time to miss us. It did make my heart swell a bit when we passed them on the other side of the highway… I honked my cute (but masculine) MINI horn a few times, but evidently so many guys had been honking that they really couldn’t distinguish between passer’s by and Dad passin’ by. But they looked so perfect. Sitting in the grass like perfect ladies. You know, that side sitting, gorgeous look. Big smiles, laughing and talking with one another, sipping on the cool water. They looked great. I was proud.

I had concluded on the lightning fast trip to save them that I could have had them change the tire – and call me if they needed help or had questions. But that would remove one more thing I could teach them – and my great Son… They DID have someone to call. They DID have a protector – a provider… and I didn’t need to ask who it was. It’s me. I hope Peter understood that – so when he’s a husband, he won’t hesitate. I’m sure the girls understood.

Turns out I wasn’t “Dad the Failure” after all… Of course, time may prove that out differently… but right now, for the rest of the afternoon at least, I’m “Dad of the Year”. Hey! Wanna change a tire with me? <grin>

A Tale of Two City-Girls: Day 7

Well, it has come to my attention, that in my extended departure from this blog, certain persons of the female faction have disincluded me from the general group currently residing in the United States. Thereupon, I am determined to write at least one post and request, respectfully, a name change of all antecedent posts, for the “Tale”, as it is so aptly named, has and continues to include the presence of one unmentioned, but not unforgotten, male character.

But putting all our differences apart for the time being, I have been called upon by the powers that be to inform our faithful readers of the events of Day 7, which are as follows:

The day itself was uneventful, relatively speaking, as we had a small gathering with friends, for religious services, refreshments, and relaxation. As the Sabbath came to a close, the more mature sect of the family departed for shopping, dinner, shopping, dinner, shopping, etc. You know – the boring stuff in life.

Meanwhile, the more convivial part of the family began the ultimate in dalliance: blaring a capella music on the way to an undisclosed fast food restaurant, forcing the most penniless, penurious of the party to pay for dinner, and almost getting lost on the way to an important event.

That important event obviously being the highlight of the evening. We drove approximately 69,168 ft. to see a dazzling performance by the ‘Side Street Strutters’, a musical group adept in recreating the authentic ‘New Orleans’ sound. In the words of acclaimed director Michael Krajewski, who happened to have attended the event as well,

Their engaging style and humorous delivery kept the audience entertained throughout the performance. The Side Street Strutters have one of the best symphonic POPS presentations that I have seen.

Our sentiments exactly. With the excessive humor, the wide range of talent, and exceptional arrangements, the ‘Side Street Strutters’ have more than impressed us. We went ahead and bought three of their CDs, one of which we had signed by all seven members, doing our best to compliment through financial support.

As has already been decided, whenever they see it fit to visit our humble city of Charlotte again, we will gladly go again.

After the exhilarating concert, we headed to Starbucks for a quick pick-me-up, then headed home, this time omitting the blaring music.

P.S. – no further updates on the Israel trip.

Under The Tuscan Sun: Day 9

Well, the long week has drawn to a quick and concise close. Our parents definitely seem to be enjoying themselves, as is expressed almost bi-daily on the phone. While they leisurely drove through ‘soft-shaped, serene hills of Chianti’, on the way to one of Tuscany’s oldest wineries, we were up getting gas. Readers should keep in mind the 6 hour time difference and realize the probability of extreme early departure on the American side.

Although many of our closet friends and beloved relatives stressed that conserving the gas was the most prudent decision, we decided to drive to dozens of those same friends and relatives. This may have seemed ludicrous, or even at the least slightly dangerous, but it made our visits that much more special.

We are now anticipating the bittersweet arrival of our parents in just a couple days. And until then: the partying continues!

Under the Tuscan Sun: Day 4

The cats are still away; the mice still play.

The tour continues; the party continues.

The absent parents enjoy an unceasing Tuscan vista; the children invigilate small toddlers with much the same predicament.

Ingenious Pete

Pete invented the word stac a few years ago, and now he has an entire conceptual theory to go along with it:

I guess I will stac. No need not to stac. When stacing becomes tiresome, you have already left the realm of stacing, therefore you are not tired of stacing, but tired of the lack of stacing, in which case you must stac to quench your thirst, ergo stacing is perpetual and cannot be stopped, because the very essence of the thought of stopping would defy the very nature of stacing, thus leaving a void where stacing ought be, and since the nature of stacing is filling darkness with light, evil with good, wretchedness with unwretchedness, the void would be filled by stacing, which in turn would cause a void to be created, thus demanding the void to be filled again.

 

So why not STAC?

 Peter