I am a person who never goes looking for adventure. I don’t bungee jump, hang glide, or strap on a parachute and hurl myself out of airplanes. I just drift through life doing what I have to do when I have to do it, all cool, calm, and collected. Whether I like it or not, adventure finds me. I am always oblivious, and adventure usually sneaks up and grabs me right in the a$$ taking me by surprise.
When I was a college freshmen at Belmont University, I decided on the spur of the moment that I wanted to go home. Let’s forget the fact that home happened to be an 8 hour drive away. Even though I had told my mom that I intended to spend the weekend on campus, as soon as my last class was over I was overcome with the need, determination, and insanity to drive home.
I threw some clothes and books into the back of my car, cranked the radio’s volume to full blast and pointed my car north. I was 18, had the world by the a$$, and wanted to go home, so away I went. I checked no weather reports because the sun was shining. I notified no one that I was on my way. I just got in my car and moved it right along.
Somewhere along the way the sun retreated behind the clouds. The threatening skies made little difference to me. I had my tunes cranked and at that moment I was singing along to Bon Jovi. I had my mojo working, my head was banging to the beat, and I was really getting into the music when all of a sudden a newscaster broke into the middle of the song. “If you are in Brown County, take shelter immediately! A tornado has touched down near I-65 and is traveling north. Repeat, if you are in the path of this storm, take cover NOW!” It took me a minute for this piece of information to register. “Oh hells bells, I am on I-65!” I then passed a sign welcoming me to Brown County. Brown County!! I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and looked around. I looked over to my left and just about $hit my pants. There was a huge tornado blowing up a barn right alongside of me!! I freaked out. I didn’t know whether to cuss or pray so I did a little bit of both.
Instead of pulling off to the side of the road and taking cover, I slammed my foot to the gas pedal and floored it. All the other vehicles around me had the same reaction because everyone seemed to move in a pack like a bat out of hell. Rain poured down in sheets. I couldn’t see where I was going. All I could see was the tail lights of the semi truck in front of me. I knew if that semi truck went off the road, I would follow it. If the tornado changed course, it would hit me. Either way I sliced it, I was probably going to be having tea and cakes with Je$u$ in short order. So I buried the gas pedal, said a prayer, and hauled a$$ all the way to Indianapolis.
By the time I reached Indianapolis, I had to pee BAD. Honestly it is a wonder I didn’t pee myself on the way. My brain was frazzled and if I wasn’t three sandwiches short of a picnic before, I was definitely a little closer to needing a straight jacket by the time I guided my Dodge Shelby Charger through the construction barricades that surrounded the gas station.
Evidently I drove through the wrong barriers because the next thing I knew my car was nose down in a deep ditch. I lost it with a capital L. I managed to climb out of my car and rushed up to the station to demand they get my car out of their little moat NOW. I was going to pee, use the phone, and then I wanted to head on down the highway. It didn’t matter if it was my fault for having my head up my a$$ and driving through the wrong barriers. It was their barriers, their moat, and their job to get it un-f***** immediately before I completely lost my mind right there in their lovely establishment. Before long I was back on the road with only a scratch on the spoiler.
I finally did make it home and lived to tell the tale. I never go looking for adventure, but I always manage to find it no matter how much I try to avoid it until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
I love all the seasons! Any day with the sun shining is a perfect day in my book. It would be a day that isn’t to hot or to cold but just right with a pleasant temperature between 70-80 degrees. The skies would be brilliantly blue filled with white fluffy clouds. A slight breeze perfumed with the smell of flowers and freshly mowed grass would fill the air.
On such a lovely day, no matter whether spring, summer, or fall, I would head outdoors to play track ball with my kids, take a walk, or lose myself in a good book while my kids played on the swing set or ran about playing one of their many games. I would plan a picnic or a day to explore a park or a zoo.
If it was summer and a tad warmer, I might rush to the beach to laze away the day watching the tide roll in and out as my kids built sand castles and buried their toes in the sand. More likely I would take a swim in the backyard pool, and then relax in a lawn chair, catching rays, watching my kids play as I bury myself within the pages of a great book.
If it was fall I would venture outdoors armed with my handy dandy leaf blower and attack the mountains of leaves drifting down. Then I would enjoy watching them burn as the sun set and turned into a beautiful night with the moon watching over me and stars twinkling from the sky.
In the winter I would delight in the cotton ball sized snow falling from the sky and how the world was magically transformed into a world blanketed in white. Then I would rush outside and attempt to catch a few snowflakes on my tongue, make snow angels, and build the best snowman ever with my kids. As long as the sun peeked out eventually to say hello, I would be happy.
If my husband was home, the perfect weather would demand golf cart rides around the neighborhood and succulent perfectly grilled meat filling the air with the most mouth watering smells. If the weather is bright and sunny there were would be yard work, gardening, and memories being made filled with laughter and smiles. I will be walking on sunshine until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
When I was growing up my mom must have loved mirrors or at least thought they were a necessary accessory to make a house a home. As I think about it, I believe she had a mirror or reflective surface in every room of the house. Mirrors can be amazing things, not only do they make a small room appear larger but they also show a person’s physical flaws without any forgiveness. They also can hide sinister beings that creep out on you in the night.
When I was growing up I had a full length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. As I look back on it, that was an awful stupid place to put a mirror as my door was always open. I rarely shut that door and hardly ever used the mirror on it. I always applied my makeup in the bathroom while gazing in the mirror over the sink. If I wanted to check out my appearance, I went out to the living room where another large antique mirror hung. Most of the time I even got dressed in the bathroom.
I have worn glasses since the 4th grade. Without my glasses my world is a blurry haze. Because of that fact, even if I have to pee in the night I always grab my glasses for the trip. For some reason, I have always had to see to pee. Even though I am a born klutz, I also have the habit of never turning on lights for these nocturnal journeys to the toilet. I have never been able to stumble to the bathroom without running into a wall as I went. Regardless, then and now, there has always been a night light in the bathroom to light my way.
One night I woke with the need to pee, grabbed my glasses and took off in the dark for the toilet. As I approached the hallway, I saw someone standing there in the darkness. My heart raced. The person was coming toward me. I was half asleep, but my terror of discovering someone in the house that shouldn’t be scared the living be Je$u$ out of me. I rushed back to my bed screaming all the way, grabbed the covers up to my nose, and turned the lamp beside the bed on to discover no one was there. My door was shut and I found my reflection staring back at me looking just as terrified as I felt. In a flash my door flew open and my mom was staring at me with a look of alarm on her face. “Are you all right?” All I could manage as I trembled was that I had to pee. “Well get up and go to the BATHROOM before you pi$$ the bed!!” My mom shook her head, said good night, and went back to bed giving me one of those "wondering why" looks which had the effect of making me feel like a complete a$$. A real a$$ considering I was a teenager at the time and old enough to not be afraid of things that go bump in the night.
Like Tigger in “The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh”, I discovered my bogey man was only a reflection of myself. Things in the mirror are not always as they appear until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
The question from NaBloPoMo today is whether I would rather have it very hot or very cold outside. This is an easy one for me. When given the choice if I would rather freeze my a$$ off or sweat like a pig I will go with freezing my a$$ off every single time.
I have sufferedheat stroke many times in my life. I am just not a person that can handle the heat at all. My first major run in with heat stroke was when I decided to take up using a tanning bed. I worked next door to a tanning store at the time, so it seemed only natural to drift next door and sign up for a package. I bought a tube of Swedish Beauty tanning lotion, lathered up, and prepared to bake in the tanning bed. One night I just became entirely too hot during my tanning session. I rushed home feeling unwell where I proceeded to vomit uncontrollably. My boss at the time had been worried about me and decided to stop by and check up on me after she closed up for the night. She found me deathly sick, burning up, and with a violent case of the chills. She ran me a bath of tepid water and stayed with me until I began to feel better. A doctor later confirmed I had a heat stroke and to be very careful in the future. I gave up tanning beds after that little nightmare.
It is always hotter than the blazes of hell when our county fair is in full swing. Last year I desperately wanted to take my kids for wristband day at the fair. My husband was home and we were going to go as a family. We waited while our kids lined up and rode the rides. All of a sudden I felt unwell and dizzy. I went directly to the medical building at the fairgrounds where I proceeded to vomit uncontrollably until I was given a shot to stop me. I was severely dehydrated and once again suffering from heat stroke.
After that little catastrophe I realize I just don’t handle the heat well. On the flipside of the coin, I love snow and the bitter cold that goes with it. When it is cold outside you can always add another layer of clothing and be moving right along. When it is hotter than the blazes of hell, all you can do is strip down and stay in the air conditioning. Unless you live at the Playboy mansion, walking around naked just isn’t acceptable. Armed with air conditioners and a swimming pool, I am ready to endure the summer heat while continuing to dream of future white Christmas’s until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
By the time I got around to meeting my husband I had more than my fair share of unrequited love. I spent the better share of my time at school drooling or panting after one boy or another. Looking back I realize now that I really didn’t know any of those boys very well. All I knew was that I would lust after this one or that one simply by how hot they looked.
When I was in the 5th grade I had the hots for an older boy in the 6th grade. I would drool at him from afar and follow him around the playground like a pup in heat. He loved to play on the merry go round, so guess what? I loved to play on the merry go round. It made little difference that the faster the merry go round spun the more I wanted to toss my cookies. Whenever he acknowledged my presence, I would get the deer in the headlight look going on, break out in a sweat, and be rendered speechless. The few times I did manage to get a word out I rambled on like a blithering idiot.
Anyone who was anyone went to the roller rink for the school’s roller skating parties. I was no different. It made little difference that I could barely skate. I went, fell down, and had a blast trying to get an eye full of Mr. Wonderful. Kids at that age think it is the height of hilarity to broadcast your feelings to the object of your affection. It doesn’t matter how potentially embarrassing it may be. There is no loyalty at that age. My so called friend skated right up to Mr. Wonderful and informed him in no uncertain terms that I was in love with him. Honestly I wanted to die a thousand deaths. I was so mortified. I couldn’t go home because my mom had dropped me off and wouldn’t be returning until it was over, so I was stuck. There was no where to hide except the bathroom and I was dying to know what he said. My friend thought my dilemma was absolutely hilarious. Like any typical 5th grader I probed her for information “What did he say??” “How did he act?” “Was he completely grossed out?” “How could you??” It was like a scene out of “A Diary of a Wimpy Kid” except Greg Peffley wasn’t the star attraction, I was.
Before I knew what hit me, the object of my affection rolled up to me and said “So, you like me, huh?” Once again all I could do was smile like an imbecile and nod. Amused, he smiled and said “Cool” and skated away as quickly as he had come. A while later I remembered to breathe and the DJ announced that everyone line up against the walls for a moonlight couples skate. My friend and I took our place at the wall and to my utter shock Mr. Wonderful glided up to me and offered me his hand asking me to skate. I remember looking around me to see if he could possibly be speaking to someone else when he smiled and grabbed my hand leading me out onto the floor. I don’t remember what song was played. All I can remember is floating around the rink. When the song was over, he thanked me politely and went on his merry way. I watched as he skated with others. It made little difference. I was still starry eyed.
After that year, I never saw him again. I fell in and out of lust many times over the years. When I finally met my husband, he had me at hello. It was love at first sight. I had gone through enough losers to know a good one when he finally arrived. I instinctively knew he was the one for me when I first spoke to him on the phone. That feeling was reinforced when I finally laid eyes on him. My eyes adored him and they adore him still until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
Although you will probably never find me praying for rain or doing a rain dance, I don’t mind rain when it does happen. It is kind of like the $hit in life that a person has no control over, it happens so it is best to deal with it instead of complain about it. If I happen to be at a concert or an outdoor event, it is going to take a lot more than rain to force me to hang it up and go home. However, a little thunder, lightning, and wind gusts strong enough to blow me back to start will send me packing.
I am not one of these people that cart an umbrella everywhere I go in case I get caught in a down pour. If it decides to rain, so be it. I will rush through it. A little rain never hurt anybody. It is only water and most people voluntarily get wet in the shower. They will willingly go swimming or run through the sprinkler. G0d forbid a little rain falls from the heavens. The same people will go into a panic and arm themselves with raingear and umbrellas or seek cover until the rain subsides. It is not acid. It iswater. I have places to go and have no desire to wait around. I am more than willing to get wet and dash through the rain.
Rain is actually rather invigorating. I don’t care how old I get, getting wet makes me laugh. It is fun. If you get the crazy notion to run and become Miss Athletic, a little rain feels really good when you are all hot and sweaty. When I was on the cross country team in high school we would always go out and run miles on end during practice. One time I got stuck miles away from the school in a downpour. You can bet I stepped it up a notch and ran a little faster that day. The fact that I was running along side the road made little difference to the motorists speeding by. They kept right on trucking full speed ahead splashing mud puddles all over me. When I arrived back at the school I looked like a muddy drenched rat. I wasn’t alone. The whole team looked that way. The only difference was the rest of the girls took time in the locker room to primp. Stupid me, I raced headlong into the gym where the girls on the volleyball team were practicing. They all stopped and stared at me like I was an alien from Mars. I suppose I looked like an alien to those prissy girls who were to perfect to even sweat.
Being out in a downpour adds to the adventure in life. Sure you get wet, but that is the beauty of it. Rain makes the flowers and the plants grow. I love how when it rains the house becomes so dark that you can barely find you’re a$$ with both hands. It is perfect weather to sleep in, or simply burrow in with a good book until the rain passes. It often cools the earth after a hot, sultry day. I can honestly say the only thing I really hate about rain is the mud and puddles that are left behind in the aftermath. I hate high stepping over mud puddles. I hate tip toeing through the mud.
Rain is just part of life. If folks are so willing to swim or jump in a lake, then I just don’t get why they have a problem getting wet when it rains. They will dry, and life does go on. Just let it rain until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
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