They Caught me Riding Dirty...

Hmm, not sure if that is a good title for this post, because truthfully, I have no idea what it really means to be riding dirty, therefore if I have in some way offended you with that title, sorry. I am just a five year old masquerading as an adult, forgive me.

Yesterday was an epic day to add to my personal driving record. I am pretty sure when I write a book, it will revolve around the episodes involving my car.

Driving through my neighborhood like any other usual morning, only this one was a bit misty with the spring fog, I come upon the usual useless stop signs. It is 8:00 am. There is no one here, as per the usual routine of a neighborhood housing a total of 25 humans. So I stop, but immediately let my foot of the break to switch back over to the gas and continue on my merry way.

This is what is known as a rolling stop. Now I know some of you may not know that this particular type of driving had a name, mostly because everyone in America stops like this in unpopulated neighborhoods, especially when able to see (yes even me with my squinty, non-seeing eyes) that there is absolutely no one sitting at any of the other stop signs. Unfortunately, this is a violation. So, next time you see every car in America do what is known as a rolling stop, going 2 miles an hour, you have been warned not to follow their example.

Back to the story. As I roll ever so slightly through this insignificant stop sign, I look to my right and see, as per usual on any given day in my slightly over protected neighborhood, a jolly little copper sitting in his car waiting for this exact moment to take place. Side note: there are two cross streets in my neighborhood. Yup, count 'em two. Everyday this fellow is sitting on one of them, waiting like a crouching tiger to pounce upon those of us flouting the law with our deadly rolling stops.

I have a slight moment of panic, but then dismiss it thinking "surely, yes, surely a 2 mile an hour rolling stop is not enough to get pulled over".

Surely indeed. 2 minutes later I sit sobbing (yes, the most embarrassing thing ever to do in front of a cop) explaining why I have an Ohio registration, Kentucky plates, and an Indiana license. Embarrassing? Why, yes. Yes it was. Thank you for asking.

What is the result of this lovely little parable, you may ask? Well, be warned, when a city or "town" as my neighborhood is lovingly known as, needs money, forget about rolling stops. They will issue you an ordinance fine, for the same price as a ticket, only guess who gets to keep the money? Yup, you guessed it. That inconsequential little town you live in. Instead of just asking you to volunteer at bingo, or make a donation to a fund, they will pull you over and fine you. Desperation has its limits, even for the nice towns.

Yesterday, I was a victim of that desperation. "They see me rollin, they hatin...."

Dear America, what is wrong with you?

I posted earlier and deleted it because I thought it was mean. Now, I don't feel like it is mean at all. So I am going to retype it.

I am always a supporter of the underdog. Ask anyone. If you are the worst football team in America, chances are I have hardcore rooted for you at one time. If you have ever been made fun of, I would most likely be the one standing in front of you telling everyone else off. But there comes a time when we all must pause and examine, then admit that the underdog is probably the underdog for a reason. At some point, we must let them stand alone.

Case in point, Tim Urban. I wish everyone would stop calling him the come back kid, unless it is his family telling him to come back home. Seriously America, get a grip. My ears are bleeding, and I can't make it stop without your help. Who the heck is voting for this kid? I am sure the dreamy factor makes everyone pick up their phones and use their little texting fingers to put him through every night, but for the love of all things (including my sanity) please stop. Put your phones down, close your eyes, clean out your ears with a name brand q-tip and give it another listen. Because if you do this, I can personally guaruntee your ears will develop a mouth that begins screaming in protest every time Tim Urban enters the stage.

I am sure he is a nice kid, from a great family, and he is such a super dreamy teeny-bop heart throb, but let me tell you a secret. Voting for him will not make him go out with you. It will however cause massive ear trauma to the rest of America who knows what music sounds like. Just let him leave on a high note and be the next star of High School Musical...or some other lame Disney movie. Just get off American Idol. Immediately.

Normal, Normal, Normal, how I've come to LOVE thee...

Maybe it is the hint of spring, but I feel like purging lately. Instead of spring cleaning my house, which is probably in desperate need (lets be honest), I think I will be spring cleaning my life. There are a few things I need to chuck out the window...which in this case would probably mean my ears since its stuff sitting in my brain.

Some life vocabulary has recently taken on new life forms in my scary little brain. Exciting just stopped having the same meaning. What has become exciting is the thought of coming home to my best friend and favorite little furry creature. And for all those who remember my hysterical outburst over the wounded raccoon outside my window last spring, no, it is not him. Or her. Or whatever. Exciting isn't about moving around, changing my life, making all sorts of new decisions or being noticed. So, chuck goes the word exciting, hello normal.

In all my longing to always experience, all I ended up doing was longing, minus the experience part. I wasted my experience, passed it by as I mentally floated onward, deeming the here and now not quite good enough yet. Being unsettled was settling to me, and feeling in any way content was a sign to quickly get on the move. But, alas, my little futuristic shoes are all worn out and my feet are begging me to put on some socks and stay a while.

I just want a simple life. And since I am chucking out some vocab, things are looking a little roomier in that cluttered little mind up here. It is making the things that matter look more and more important, when there is nothing around for them to hide behind. I have a lovely pup, a crazy fantastic best friend/love, and beautiful people who I am lucky to call friend. I breathe clean air, walk around the block, smile often, and can see the sun peeking its glow from behind winter's grey shield. And for all this, I am breathing a little more easy, more content. For all this, I am loving, actually, adoring, the normal that has settled itself on my doorstep.