Public Transport

Recently (um, yesterday) the young ones and I started taking public transport to school.

At the beginning of the school year, I (read: my husband) switched them to a different school. A school that is about 3 times the amount of driving time as the old school. Of course, Thrifty doesn't have to drive them. It's quite difficult to fit two small children on the back of a motorcycle.

So, after a bout of road rage where I attempted to run down a woman in a mini van who cut me off and then turned left from the right lane (where the children learned more words for their Chris Rock routine the next time they are around English speakers), I decided that for the sake of my sanity and our lives, I should quit driving.

It also makes drinking in the morning much more acceptable alleviates my hippie guilt.

However, there is only one bus line that leaves from where I live. And unfortunately, the route that it should take is under construction, so it's a long, jerky, bumpy ride that way.

So I do what anyone would do. I drive to a nice large grocery store parking lot that's in a better position than I am, park, and walk across the lot with my shopping bag to a better transport line.

And feel only slightly guilty about it.

I'm not sure if the lack of hippie guilt makes up for the "parking lot" guilt.

But it's working at keeping me somewhat sane. I have not yet tried to run over anyone who cut me off on the tram.

Although, it would be awesome to be a tram driver. Maybe I should look into that. Then I could run people down at will.

On second thought, they probably require good Polish skills. And they probably frown upon morning drinking.

Wild Pigs in Clothes

In the past two weeks, I've had an odd experience.

Turns out people don't know I have a daughter.

Yesterday, at my kids' school, I was chatting with a woman I've known for all of two weeks. I complimented her daughter's outfit.

She said, "Oh, you know how you go into a store and go a little crazy and buy everything that matches?"

I said, "Yes, I used to do that with my daughter. That doesn't happen anymore. Now it's 'Mom, buy me skinny jeans.' and 'Isn't this shirt CUTE?' while she throws it over my arm and goes looking for more."

"I'm sorry, did you say 'daughter'?" She says this as though I have just mentioned that I have a wild pig that I used to dress in matching clothes, but now insists that I buy it skinny jeans.

"Yes."

"Daugh - ter?"

"Yes."

"How did I not know you have a daughter?"

"Well, um. She's not usually with me. She's usually in school when I see you." Except for that time when we met at the Hard Rock and I had Tigger and her friend as well as all my boys. But I'm sure you didn't notice her then. She didn't look at all like a wild pig.

"How did I not know you have a daughter?"

"Um, I don't know." But it's not as though we've been married for two years. I met you TWO WEEKS ago.

"Does she go to school here?"

"Yes. Down that hall right there."

"How did I not know you had a daughter?"

I shrugged.

(This was WAY funnier in my head.)

I'm back! (Sort of)

I promised some of my lovely Facebook blogging friends that I would have a post up this week. "Write, Monkey! Write!"

I'm still at a loss for words - not because anything bad has happened, but mostly because I think I just ran out of funny. Of course, practice actually helps to keep the words rolling and I'm well out of practice now.

So, for now, I leave you with this:

Tigger saw this on the shelf at our local grocery store (which remains anonymous - HAHA!)

She said, "What in the heck is this? Carrots and corn in a jar? Who thought this was a good idea?"

Then she turned it around.

"OOh! It's a little surprise! When you turn it around it's not JUST carrots and corn. It's PEAS, carrots and corn! How exciting!"

See, I told you I was all out of funny.