Spring Cleaning

With the warmer weather coming and the seasonal changeover, Spring just begs as a time for cleaning. And while my intentions are always good at this time of year — I will clean out those closets, remove cobwebs and let the sunshine in! — sometimes I get sidetracked and spring cleaning ends up being more a closer to summer chore.

During Spring Break, since we didn’t have much in the way of plans for the week, it would have been a good time as any to get the mess out. But I didn’t.

However, this morning while cleaning myself in the shower, I was thinking about the mountainous chore ahead of me. It’s a bit overwhelming. There are so many bags of clothes in my daughter’s closet to go through. I need my son to try on his spring clothes too and once we start throwing things out, well then there is room to clean.

And that got me thinking about ways to clean. Normally I use conventional cleaners, but I have been known to dabble in the homemade ones as well. There are many tried and true natural cleaners sitting around here waiting to be used and thinking about them will help me procrastinate having to do my own daunting chores.

So, in an effort to not do what I have to, let me share some cleaners, remedies and just plain fun stuff so I don’t  have to go clean.

White vinegar and baking soda. Yes, folks, it’s not just for science fair volcanoes! This bubbling concoction works wonders in my kitchen sink drain. Sprinkle a bit of the baking soda, pour in a cup or so of vinegar and watch the magic. After the bubbling show, wash it all down with some boiling water and a sparkling clean drain awaits you. I do the same for plastic garbage bins and recycling bins as well. Alka Seltzer tablets work similarly if you drop one in your toilet. They are supposed to get all the muck under the water. And while that works, I still have to clean the rest of the bowl with something else. But, I had one lying around and I tried it.

Lemons. What can you not do with lemons? I used to sniff them when I was suffering from morning sickness and would instantly feel better. Just having them around makes me cheery. But they also work wonders as a natural bleaching agent.
(Did Jan Brady NOT try to bleach her freckles away with this?) There is truth to it. My dark hair changed to copper with some extra lemon juice applied at the beach when I was a teen unhappy with my own brunetteness. Not something I recommend, unless you are going for the copper penny look. Anyway, add some lemon juice to your whites in the laundry. They will be fresher and brighter. There is a reason there are so many lemony smelling cleaners out there. But aside from the scent, lemons are synonymous with clean in my book.

Crest Toothpaste. I just recently unearthed a pair of tarnished silver candle sticks we got for our wedding. I wasn’t sure if they were sterling, but my mom once told me that something in Crest acts like a silver polishing agent. And sure enough, after applying a coating of Crest to these Pottery Barn candle sticks, I wiped it off and found gleaming and very shiny silver underneath the tarnish. Plus they smelled minty fresh. I could smile at my dinner guests and say “It’s not my breath, it’s my candle sticks.” Good stuff.

Liquid Castile Soap. Now, if you are not a soap maker per se, you may not know from Castile Soap. I am not such a crafty one, but my sister is, and she told me about it. And someone else had recommended it to clean marble surfaces and glass. So I went and bought a lavender scented bottle of it to clean my cultured marble vanity and I love it.
Not only does it deep clean and not leave a residue on the marble, but the lavender scent serves as aromatherapy while I clean. So I am actually happy to clean. OK, not really, but it is a calming and lovely scent none the less so maybe I do not feel like I am doing said chore. Lavender is one I my favorites. It comes in other scents, too or you could a little drop of aromatherapy scent you like. Just make sure the scent is one that will not cause damage. I think you are not supposed to use lemons on marble. Castile soap cleans up the soap scum from my glass shower door. This chore I do while I am cleaning myself. It’s not everyday you can clean your shower with a natural product you could use on yourself.

Apple Cider Vinegar. My mother-in-law once gave me a book filled with hundreds of ways apple cider vinegar worked around the house and while I enjoyed the book, my all time favorite has nothing to do with household cleaning. Mix a tablespoon of this with some baking soda and put it on your hair and you can kiss summer chlorine and salt residue goodbye. I tried this last summer because my hair was dull from so much lake, pool and beach and afterward, well let me just say my own stylist was amazed at my hair. Maybe because I am brunette, but the vinegar made my hair so shiny like I just used a salon gloss.

Speaking of hair again, I remember a long time ago when I was in elementary school, a new girl came to town. She had long blonde hair and one day, she came to school with her hair a greasy mess. Not just greasy hair, I mean something was actually in it greasing it up. Everyone asked what she had done and she answered : mayonnaise. Wha? Well, this girl, her name was Penny, was obviously beyond her years in hair knowledge. The next day she came to school, her hair was beautiful, silky and bouncy and shiny. Not bad for a 6th grader. Now I would not go so far as to promote using mayo on your head, but I do think it had to be the vinegar and soybean oil in Hellman’s that did it. Just sayin’.

So more vinegar stuff. I have also used a mixture of apple cider vinegar and water to gargle a sore throat away. It does work if you catch it as soon as your throat starts to tickle.

Another trick with this is to make your own bug repellent by using apple cider vinegar, witch hazel and citronella essential oil and putting it into a spray bottle.

Baking soda. I have scrubbed away hard water and magnesium stains from my porcelain sinks by just using a damp sponge and baking soda. I also use this one to clean and freshen my stainless steel sink. It does leave a residue on that, so rinsing well is recommended.

So, with these and many more ways to clean my house, hair and even my throat, I suppose I should stop procrastinating and get to it.

Any secret family remedies or solutions you want to share? Have at it! They would be appreciated!

Happy Spring Cleaning.


The Best Vacation Ever

Spring Break for many was Florida or someplace warm and full of tropical drinks, swimming and relaxing. For us, well, we decided to play it by ear and take some day trips, maybe spend the night in Boston and just do whatever.

The weather certainly did not cooperate for a non-Florida trip, but we made do with no plans, no schedules and just a fly by the seat of our pants kind of week. In a few days we were able to cover a lot of ground at our own pace and just enjoy that fact that we did not have to spend a ton of money to entertain the kids for a week.

In the first part of the week, we decided a little culture was in order.

If you have never had the pleasure of strolling through the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC, I highly recommend it. And if you can do this with an impressionable nine-year-old boy and his five-year-old sister, it is downright hysterical.

We trained into Manhattan and jumped a subway to the Met. I have never been there before — at least as far as I can remember — and it was by far one of the coolest places on Earth.  With so many things to see, we knew we wouldn’t be able to do it all, so we chose a few places.

We began in the Greek and Roman Art wing. From the moment we walked in, my son had a grin from ear to ear and could not contain his giggles as he stood in front of hundreds of naked Greek and Roman statues of various shapes and sizes. As we passed each statue and looked at it, he tried to contain his nine-year-old juvenile giggles but found it nearly impossible. Especially when the male stone statues were missing the most important of their guy parts.

So the downward spiral into bathroom humor began and this very immature mom and dad jumped right in. We ignored the fact the forms were thousands of years old and were sculpted by famous artists and made up stories about them instead.

Like that one guy who had no head, but his male part was intact. Obviously he couldn’t see where he was peeing. Or the other guy who could pee just fine as his unit was in tact, but since he had no feet, he couldn’t run away. Probably losing in its translation for sure, but my husband, son and I silently and not so silently laughed our way through. Such good role models we are for him, I know.

Then we came upon a statue of Hercules. My five-year-old daughter stood there flabbergasted at his height and girth. She declared he was the biggest man she ever saw. It really is a huge statue. The she peeked around back to see if he had a butt. And he did. And it was the biggest butt I have ever seen. We now have the butt to compare all other butts to.

Seriously, I think we probably are the reason for the name Ugly Americans. People from all over the world come to the Met to appreciate art. And we stand there and laugh at missing guy parts and the size of Hercules’ butt. I am so ashamed. OK, just maybe a little. It was funny, okay?

After we left the naked people of ancient Greece and Rome, we hit Egypt and were mesmerized by a giant Sphinx. Not thinking clearly, when my son asked if he could touch it I was like “Yes, sure.” So he reached out and immediately a museum guard said “Don’t touch.” Poor thing. I unintentionally threw him under the bus. I felt like an idiot. Of course you can’t touch a thing in a museum that is like 4,000 years old!

The American Wing and architecture area was really awesome. Fully furnished rooms by Frank Lloyd Wright and a Tiffany area as well. I wish we could have spent more time in the Medieval Art area where hundreds of different religious statues and paintings of Jesus and Mary were exhibited. At that point, the hard concrete floor had taken its toll on our feet.

On the way home we talked about the museum and we asked the kids what their favorite thing was. My son was torn between the Swords and Armor and the Japanese Samurai costumes. My daughter felt differently. For her, it was — hands down — the naked people. “Especially the big butt.”

One great thing about my kids is their ability to so honestly say that whatever they are doing now trumps what they did yesterday. Or even five minutes ago. My son and daughter both declared while on the train home looking out at the passing sights, that this is the “Best Vacation Ever.” Mind you, it was only Tuesday and they had said the same thing yesterday after meeting a ton of friends at the park.

Thursday was also the Best Vacation Ever when we hightailed it to Mystic Seaport to take in some old Connecticut history. We bumped into some of our friends who also happened to be in Mystic. So we bummed around with them, the kids climbed on ships, we had a little dinner in a great dark tavern (where the four kids had their OWN table, folks!) and shared a great memory.

And yesterday, we spent Good Friday hiking in a beautiful wildlife sanctuary here in our neck of the woods. We didn’t get the Best Vacation Ever from the kids, but their happy faces and skipping along the trails said it all. Plus, Checkers got to come too and run and swim in a dirty swamp. He smelled like a wet beaver. Bliss for a silly old dog.

So a Spring Break week with nothing to do resulted in lots accomplished. Good memories. No temper tantrums. Not bad. Not bad at all.

So Long Dirty, Sexy Soaps

What is the world coming to anyway? Both All My Children and One Life to Live have been canceled. Seriously, ABC, what is wrong with you?

Apparently, the “interests” of some of your viewers have changed, but really. Is there nothing you can do to save these iconish television serials?

I am not embarrassed to say this –I do and always have loved Soap Operas. There. You can say it too. Cause you know you do.

Soap operas have been a part of my life since I started watching General Hospital circa Luke and Laura back in the early 1980s. Who among you older female folk can say you did not plop yourself down after school with a giant bowl of ice cream or whatever and lose yourself in Pine Valley and Erica Kane, Llanview and the Buchanan’s or Luke and Laura and Port Charles? Or some other characters on some other network. Same stuff. Different channel.

So go ahead and say what you want about them, but for me and many people I know who dare to admit it, watching soaps was a rite of passage.

Yeah, the story lines were similar and sometimes downright stupid. Acting was so-so at best. But there was always something about soap operas for me. I just got sucked in.

And in my own family, once that TV came into the living room, even my mom got sucked into the soaps. You’d have to actually know her to realize this was a miracle. Mrs. Anti-TV watching Luke and Laura. (She’ll deny it today though.) We would run home from school as fast as we could to catch the second half of GH and on sick days, well, we relished in Pine Valley and Llanview, PA.

I myself grew into a Days of Our Lives/Another World fan on NBC, but regardless, when I was a first time mom, I planted myself on the couch in hopes my son would learn to latch on. It took HOURS for him to eat and AMC and OLTL helped keep me company during those long, tear-filled hours.

Susan Lucci is a damn ICON people. What on earth is she going to do NOW? She grew up on that show. All My Children spawned a lot of actors into other roles, too. Kelli Ripa? Josh Duhamel? Michelle Trachtenberg? Buffy the Vampire aka Sara Michelle Geller? Cameron Mathison?

What I could never figure out is why some people stigmatized the soaps. I was a closet soap fan for a long time because, well, I didn’t want to be labeled. But I got over it and even taped them in my heyday of watching. Out in the open, in front of my roommates. I watched. And eventually they did, too.

 But you know soaps really are no different from some of today’s, and yesterday’s, Prime Time shows.

What were shows like Boston Legal, Ally McBeal, LA Law, even the Waltons if you want to get technical? Does once a week make them less of a soap opera even though they picked up where they left off week after week? 

Do you think LOST was not a serial? Desperate Housewives, too. ER, Grey’s Anatomy? Classic prime time serials in my book. And hospital based-too. And Real Housewives of wherever and Jersey Shore? Train wrecks, yes. And also reality based soap operas.

Just because they go off the air for summer hiatus does not make them different. And just because they are at night versus the day, well shoot, anyone hear of a DVR? Watch them at night and they become Prime Time shows.

I know I am being overly dramatic. After all, it is just tv. But it’s the beginning of an end of an era I think. And what are they replacing them with? A Foodie show and a health show. Isn’t that what the Food Network or Style are for? Honestly. 

People on AMC and OLTL have been on their shows for a long time and they worked their butts off. And when they left and didn’t make it elsewhere in Hollywood, they’d be back by “popular demand” and step in exactly as they had never left.

And for me, and many more, coming back to a soap after a long time and catching up in two minutes made soaps what they are. So it is sad. AMC and OLTL, even though I haven’t seen you in a long time, I for one will miss you.

I feel for them and can only hope perhaps another network can pick them up, dust them off and realize that soaps are an American institution. Soaps are like a friend. Always there when you need them. They are closing the proverbial book on two long-running faves. What will we do when they are ALL gone?

The Mold

If you have ever had kids, or have been around kids, you know that your own vanity pretty much gets tossed out the window.

Kids, well, they can slay your ego in one fell swoop. Not intentionally of course, as they are cherubs, really. They just haven’t learned to work that censoring mechanism that usually comes with maturity.

(And I say “usually” cause I know an adult or two who have yet to find how that censor works.)

In any case, kids, especially mine, say what comes to mind. And that is why we love them. And also why their comments can be fodder for this mom blogger to share. 

It is very humbling to look at yourself or others even through the eyes of your young child.

I’ll never forget the time my son and I were looking at a book about teeth. His were the little pearly white baby teeth at that point. Not the awkward buckish things apparent in his mouth now.

Anyway, this book showed a nice smiling lady who  informed kids about how teeth need to be taken care of properly and they are supposed be white.

My son looked at me squarely and asked. “Well how come your’s are yellow, Mommy?”

OUCH. This, after I brought him into the world after five drug-free hours or labor.

Then he added that it was okay because they are “Not green like Nana’s teeth.” And on he went to the next page.

I remember the story of one of my older sisters embarrassing the heck out of our mom. Apparently a well-intentioned woman came over to the stroller where my sister sat and said, “Oh what a cute little boy.” Well my sister, with her little pixie haircut — of which she never forgave my mom for doing — stared back at this woman and said from all of her four-year-old wisdom, “Yeah, and you’re fat.”

And that was that. She was fat as the story goes and my sister, well, she was just telling it like it is.

Kids will do this. They point out what they see. If you look different, they want to know why. Why is he fat? Why so tall? Wearing an ugly shirt? They’ll let you know. Whisker? They reach out and touch it. If you dare have bad breath, look out. No Mercy.

Take my daughter for instance. There is not a lot I can do that she is not there with me. She is my little shadow, so there’s no privacy. Once when I was changing my clothes, she noticed a little birth mark I have. (I won’t tell you where, that’d be TMI.) But she asked what it was. So I told her.

“It’s a Beauty Mark.” (I am not sure why they call them that. They are clearly NOT beautiful, even on Cindy Crawford’s model face, and I think it can only be the fact that such an ugly thing to appear on one’s body would otherwise traumatize such a person if it was not labeled “a mark of beauty.”)

Then I thought I’d better come clean with her. “It’s called a mole.”

She went to touch it and see what it was all about. It didn’t seem to faze her then.

But the next time she saw it, that was when she uttered in sheer disgust:

“Blech, that is the ugliest mold I ever saw. Daddy! Mommy has a really ugg-a-ly mold!”

The "Mold"

And she left me there to wallow in my ugly “mold.” I don’t dare correct her. It’s too damn funny.

That’s life.

And vanity — well clearly there is no place for it here.


Nine years ago, like any new parents, we scrambled around our house trying to child proof everything in sight. Knives were removed from the counter, cabinets secured with baby proofing gadgets, knick knacks removed. Gates on the stairs. Cleaning chemicals put away.

This was all before our son could even hold his head up because one day he would hold his head up, then crawl, then walk and then probably grab a shiny sharp knife off the counter or try to play in the Soft Scrub, so, well, we were just being safe.

More safety measures included securing the door to the basement with a hook-eye fastener so that it couldn’t be opened by a short person. I’d have to stand on my tip toes, usually with laundry basket in hand, to make my way down to the damp unfinished basement. And I usually reserved that chore early on for when a child was napping to doubly ensure no falls down those rickety stairs to that hard, cold, concrete floor.

And nine years and two kids later, there were a few items of our child proofing stuff that remained in tact. So, just a few weeks ago, I took the last few cabinet and drawer safety gadgets off and tossed them in the trash. Now, the only evidence that we ever did baby proof our house was a few remaining outlet covers and the hook-eye on the basement.

In those nine years, luckily there had been no falls down the basement steps.

But last night, I threw a load in the washer, climbed the stairs and left the door open a jar as I headed to my daughter’s bedroom to gather more laundry for the load.

And that is when I heard the most awful sound. It was the sound of a body hitting several rickety old wooden basement steps. And then silence.

I ran down stairs as fast as I could and found,surprisingly and thankfully, both of my children sitting in front of the TV, physically intact, but looking concerned about the noise. I screamed “What was that?” as my heart continued to race. “Did you hear that?”

Heading down the hall, that’s when I saw the basement door was opened. I looked down and there I found our 13-year-old Dalmatian standing at the bottom. Thankfully he was standing.

I ran down the stairs and hugged him profusely, checking him for hurt. He seemed okay, I thought and figured at least he was standing.

Checkers suffers from Degenerative Myelopathy, a condition that affects his spinal cord and makes his back legs looks like they are sinking. He doesn’t know he is doing it, as his nerves are not telling his brain what is going on.

Climbing the stairs has become a chore for him these days. And combined with the fact that he is almost deaf, he must have not realized I was upstairs and gone down to look for me. I think he must have tried to get back upstairs but he just couldn’t make it all the way. The problem likely happened when he stopped.

Looking back, that was the noise I heard. His nails scraping the wood and him falling backwards. Ugh. The poor old guy.

I cleaned up some basement dirt off his white body and tried to coax him back up. He wanted no part of that. So I had to grab him by his hind quarters, all 68 pounds of him, and lead him up. Thankfully we made it without incident, save a few back pains on my part. Since my husband is away, I was unsure what I would have done if I couldn’t get him up. But I did and he seems okay.

It’s ironic how I thought we were in the clear. I had always been careful with that basement door. In fact, I think I traumatized the kids about it by putting the fear of God in them if they even came near that open door.

It didn’t occur to me that Checkers would be the one to fall. Thankfully he is okay.

So it’s out of the childproofing years and into the keeping-the-old-dog-safe years.

I’ll have to rethink my daily doings. Knowing my old pal will follow me around, especially when his best friend, my husband, is off on business, I will have to keep that door closed. As it is, we are up many times during the night for Checkers to do his business. And he paces a lot, an old man trying to rest his old bones but not finding that comfortable spot.

I had a hard time sleeping last night. I kept thinking about how time passes so quickly. With pets, well, it goes very quickly.

He has been with us for 12 years. We got him as a mere pup from a rescue and it was love at first sight for he and my husband.

70 pounds of love

It has been only recently that he has begun to show his age. He can’t go on the long trail runs with my husband any more, but every now and again, he shows his puppy side. He’ll grab something and run, shred a package, be his mischeivous self. Even more so since we have added black strap molasses and coconut oil to his diet. (Highly recommended for ahem, “mature” humans, too.)

Checkers is getting on in years, and it makes us all sad to think about. He sleeps a lot more and I find myself looking at him a lot. To make sure everything is still working properly.

This is a new phase we are entering here — one we knew was inevitable — but still a hard one nonetheless.

How can you not love a dog who lets you do this?

Making Whoopie Pies

Let me just say that I could have just made the cupcakes.

But I saw this recipe in Family Circle for an old-fashioned treat, Whoopie Pies, and since I was due to make treats for my son’s classroom birthday celebration and was feeling adventurous, I  thought why not?

A Whoopie Pie is really nothing more than an inside-out cupcake, of sorts. Frosting in the middle saves me from having to pull out a MacGyver trick to transport them safely and carefully from kitchen to school. I am not the owner of that handy-dandy cupcake transporter, you know that cute little Tupperware tray thingy with a place for each cupcake. So, without the need to stress about getting them to school, I thought Hey, these will be cake! (Sorry for the pun. It was too good to pass up.)

Let me say here that there is a reason they give you recipe instructions. If you don’t follow them, they just may not turn out as pretty as they are in the picture.

Photo from Family Circle. Mine did NOT look like this.

So when they say use three baking sheets for 36 rounds of batter, well, you probably should. But since I don’t have three baking sheets, I used two.

And the two inches that you are supposed leave between each rounded tablespoon of batter, well there is also a reason for that too. It’s not one inch. It’s not even 1 3/4 inches. It’s two and since I apparently am not all that adept at “eyeballing it”, my two cookie sheets filled with  little balls of batter became one giant chocolate mess.

They didn’t look like circles either.

Since it was now 7:30 at night and nearing the time where I should be putting at least my five-year old to bed, a mom with better judgment might have stopped right there and hit the grocery store in the morning. Nope. Not me.

My daughter was off playing somewhere and since she wasn’t screaming, I thought OK. I really wanted to see if I could salvage a single Whoopie Pie. So I cooled them, then used my spatula to cut them into something that looked sort of like a rounded squarish abstract thing. Not too bad. Some were huge and others, well, not so big.

So this time, I spooned the rounded tablespoons of batter WAY farther than two inches apart on the cookie sheet. Then I made the frosting — which by the way if you have one around, a box of Trader Joe’s White Frosting is pretty darn good. Way better than the container of pre-made crap.

So after I’d baked the last tray and decided it would be a good idea to count them, I realized I didn’t have enough to make the necessary 18 sandwiched pies. I was literally four cookies short. (Again, back to the eyeballing thing I am not good at.)

After all this effort, I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to at least try to make it work. They would definitely not be uniform, or round for that matter, but my son would have homemade Whoopie Pies dammit!

So I assembled one and it broke sort of on accident. (OK fine, I did it on purpose. I needed to try it.) It was one of the really misshapen ones anyway. And it was really, really good. My daughter at this point smelled chocolate and emerged from what she was doing to try one. (She was doing my makeup bag. She was covered in eyeliner pencil, eyeshadow and body glitter dust and more lipstick than Bobbi Brown could have produced in a year. My fault. I was ignoring.)

She proclaimed they were the best thing ever.

So, there you have it. One mom’s attempt at Whoopies. I improvised and when I sent my son to school today with them, said a little prayer that not everyone in his class would show up or even want one. Some are cut in half. Some are not. Some are big and some are small.

Hopefully if the kids in my son’s class tell their parents about the crazy cupcakes they had in class today, they leave out the part about how ugly they were.

Hey, I tried, right?

Mad on the Road

Have you ever been annoyed at other drivers who are clearly not doing what they are supposed to be doing? Driving too slow, too fast, swerving, etc… I know I have mumbled to myself, maybe even swore out loud a little, on occasion about that dumb jerk who can’t drive.

Not Road Rage per se, just maybe ODA — Other Driver Annoyance. I know we all have experienced this in our driving lives. Especially since many of us have been driving for more than half of them.

As I have gotten older, and with my precious cargo usually on board, these little annoyances definitely seem less important. Sometimes we are going to be late. It is what it is.

And hell, I am not going to risk the safety of my kids in the car for some irresponsible person behind me in a hurry — especially on the highway. I’ll pull to the slower lane, let the jerk pass, mumble a few choice words for him or her, and let them go.

Most times they’ll flick their lights, maybe flip you off and speed away. It’s annoying for sure, but sadly part of the fast-paced lives people lead these days. We are always in a hurry to get somewhere fast and damn you, you slow poke! Get Out Of My Way!


So the other day, I was the recipient of someone else’s ODA.

I was driving the kids to the dentist in the next town and, apparently the 3 miles over the speed limit I was going was not fast enough for the driver behind me.

So she  started flailing her arms and swerving her car into the view of my driver’s side mirror. Since I was not doing anything wrong and there was nowhere to pull over, I just kept going. On my merry way, all the while watching behind me.

I watched her in my mirror, my eyes shielded behind my sun glasses. This mad momma’s arms were all a’ flailing and her lips moving rapidly as I am sure a stream of obscenities left her mouth. She sped up to tail me, fell back, sped up and swerved more. I was thinking, Seriously? What a jerk.

And then I realized — Holy Road Rage! I know her!

She was a mom from my town. Her kids are about the same age as mine. And clearly she didn’t recognize my car in front of her. Since school was out, her kids were more than likely in the car with her.

I then had to laugh.

I wonder what she would do if she knew that she knew me. Would she have continued acting this way? How embarrassed would she be if I told her? I watched from my rear view mirror as this mom, someone I know and have talked to, just got angrier and angrier at the situation because I was going too slow. 38 in a 35 mph zone and I was cramping her style.

I would be mortified if it were me. To literally have someone look through a window to see you acting so incredibly stupid. It sure hit me that I never want to be that person.

Finally, the slower traffic in front of me sped up, so I did, too. And the one lane turned into two and when she could, mad momma flew by me. I wonder if she recognized me when she passed — hopefully that would have been BEFORE she wanted to flip me off.


So a lesson or three was learned that day.

If you are going to get pissed behind the wheel, make sure you know who is in front of you. We see you.

The second one is — slow down. Life is too short to be so angry, especially when you are carrying precious cargo. They hear and mimic everything you do.

One day they will be drivers. Very soon.

And there are already enough angry ones on the road.