Since it's going to snow again anyway...

allow me to bury you in the crazy, crazy chaos that is my life:

I got a fat lip this week from my youngest son.
I was going in for the morning kiss; he was dodging it with all of his eight years and might.
He kept turning his head back and forth and then BOOM! his head hit my mouth.
I saw stars.   I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry or to punch his lights out.
There's a fine line there.
So I got up and left his room until the pain simmered down.
Serves me right.
When I was turning eight I punched my mother in the face at my birthday party.
I don't think she was trying to kiss me, but I'm pretty sure she didn't deserve it.
(Pay attention posterity:  These things do come back to haunt you.)

Yesterday I paid a visit to my parents.
We had soup together and watched the news.

We talked about the weather.
I complained because when we moved to our town, no one said "Welcome. You now live in the mysterious Massachusetts weather drop-zone known as the purple circle."  It's that dark shaded area that shows up on the weather forecasting maps representing the largest accumulation of snowfall every time we have a snow event.  EVERY TIME.  Bring it.

When I left my parents' house I drove home in a fit of panic, remembering that, just that morning, I had hurried to put a coat of paint on the bathroom window frame.  Then I cleaned the brush in the sink, and left the water running on it while I finished getting ready in the other bathroom.  Did I leave the water running?  Had it been pouring down the drain for the last four hours?  Had it?!?... I was not scheduled to go home, and I had left myself just enough time to drive to the High School to pick up Mesquite for her physical.  BUT. I had no memory of shutting off that darn water.  I had a sinking feeling that my error would prove to be the costliest brush-cleaning in my history.  So I changed my course and ran home to find that the water HAD indeed been turned off.  I was grateful.  And also late getting to the High School.  Grateful canceled out late, until the doctor reminded me how awesome my memory is by chiding me for forgetting to show up to Mesquite's physical appointment the last time we had it scheduled (a month ago).  Humble pie is my new favorite snack.  I eat it a lot.

Which brings me to last night, when I found myself stranded at a remote gas station between here and UMass with no wallet.  THAT was awesome.  I knew the van needed gas, but I kept forgetting to fill it.  I meant to do it... and then didn't remember until I was driving happily on the highway and noticed that my distance-to-empty gauge was reading "0."  My piano student paid me yesterday afternoon, but didn't have the correct change, so I pulled the wallet out of my purse (fatal mistake) to help.  The wallet then stayed next to the piano while I ran to Amherst to see Enrique play in the Symphony Band concert scheduled to begin at 8:00pm.  Thankfully I gave myself about 30 minutes of cushion, which is the gift in this story.  Also a gift is that I still have lifelines.  I used my call-a-friend, and a life-saver showed up with cash in hand so that I could put some gas in  the vehicle and make the drive to Amherst.

The concert was excellent.  Connecting with Enrique was equally good.  Mr. Dub was the lucky recipient of my late-night-drive-home-phone-call.  Because it was late and he knew I was tired, he asked if I brought along a Dr. Pepper.  That was it.  The forgotten Dr. Pepper was the trigger to my tears and the emotional let-down of all that had taken place up to that point.  He hardly knew what hit him. (it was a deluge) But he's good to me and took it all in stride.  Being married to me is even crazier than living in the purple circle.