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.

Hmmm

I only realized this week that it had been 2 weeks since I last posted. Time kind of spun out of control for me.

Pooh was in the hospital last week. It's nothing serious and he's fine now, but that ate my week and I didn't even realize that the week had passed.

So I owe some new posts. Or something. But I'm just not feeling up to it right now. So I may be back. Or I may not. But I just wanted to let you all know that I am still alive.

Passive-Aggressive Much?

In honor of wordless Wednesday (and because I have little to say but I want my last post to fall off...) here are some fabulous PANs (and their translations) from Warsaw.

This one hangs on the wall of our favorite pizza place:



It reads "True Italian pizza is eaten without added sauce." Meaning, "Hell no! We will not give you ketchup for your pizza!"

This one takes a little more backstory. This car:


has been sitting at the end of my street for several years now. We use it as a landmark to tell people where to turn. Several complaints have been lodged with the homeowner's association, yet they always claim that the person who has parked this car here has a legal right to park it here and refuses to move it.

Someone (not us, I swear!) left this note taped to the window:


It reads

"THIS IS NOT A LANDFILL!
PLEASE MOVE THIS PIECE OF TRASH!
-THE PEOPLE THAT LIVE HERE"

The sign was removed the next day. And then someone busted out the window.

The Road (Rage) Goes on Forever

Many expats who live in or have visited Poland will tell you that Poles are some of the most obnoxious drivers ever. I hesitate to say 'bad' because in reality they are some of the best drivers I have seen. They are always expecting someone to do something stupid.

Yesterday, I was leaving my neighborhood to go collect my children from school. At the intersection of the exit from my neighborhood and the main road, there is a traffic light and 3 traffic lanes. One is for the people coming into the neighborhood, one is for turning right, and the one in the middle is for turning left. All clearly marked.

I was turning right, so I pulled way up and waited for the traffic to clear enough for me to go when, just at the point where I was clear, another car came up behind me, whipped around me in the left lane and turned right. I almost hit him.

I honked my horn, sped up, pulled up beside him, honked again, and flipped him off.

He swung in behind me and tailed me all the way to the next "town".

In hindsight, I may have overreacted.

I should have hit him.

Yeah. They Did.

Like many schools, my kids' school publishes a yearbook.

And, like many schools, my kids' school has the word 'school' in its name.


Unfortunately, the publisher never went to school.