Suburban Island

Tales of the Common Suburban Parking Lot

Back from St. Louis last week, I settled back into the landscape of home sweet home. Catching up on chores on a rainy Friday was a must but it didn’t mean I needed to get wet. I pulled up at the top of a row of parked cars while my daughter went into the bank. Where I am parked looks like it should be a space but for some reason it’s not. Everyone likes to make it a space anyway. It’s a common practice and I’m just going to be sitting there in my car for a few minutes. What could happen?

The problem is that a lot can happen in a few minutes. For instance, a crazy old guy in a van with a handicapped tag can start to back towards your car like you and your car are not there. When you honk, he can pull up a little bit like maybe he heard you or saw the handicapped spot sitting empty right in front of him. That’s not what’s he has in mind however.

Not at all.

Crazy old guy starts backing up again instead. Uh oh.

I am honking. He is backing up. I keep honking. It's getting good now. A real battle of wills or a real example of stubborn stupidity. It's hard to tell in the moment. Now the other people sitting in their cars while they wait for their companions to run into the drug store or bank – like the group of teenagers sitting in the fire lane – are getting interested. And why shouldn’t they be? It's the best show in the parking lot.

The big van keeps rolling back. I know he sees me. I know he must see his car can’t fit in the fake parking space too. Consequently, I stay there like a sitting duck until I start to realize that this guy is going to keep backing up until he actually hits my car.

And then he hits my car.

I am laying on the horn but it's a little too little too late. I do kick it into reverse at this point because I am not sure if Mr. Crazy Van is going to stop or just keep on going. Aahh. There you go. He edges in the rest of the way, stops his car, and gets out casual as you please. Life is good when you are Mr. Crazy Van.

I get out of my car too. I am not so foot loose and fancy free.

Hey – I say – you hit my car.

He is wearing Bermuda shorts with the requisite socks. His outfit reflects his carefree attitude towards driving and parking. He says – I know.

I said – You hit my car. You can’t just back up into people’s cars.

He said – You shouldn’t be parked there anyway.

A strange statement considering that he was parking there now as well. In fact, he was now parked there so completely that the rear end of my car was sticking halfway out of the space that I shouldn’t be parking in. Somehow, however, it was all okay for him. Explain the logic there? I can't. I didn't try. I took the forthright approach in stated my perception of the situation.

I said – That’s crazy talk. Backing into someone’s car because you want the parking space – that’s crazy stuff.

Mr. Bermuda Shorts with an Attitude walked into the bank as if he had just gotten free valet parking. He didn't care that I thought he was crazy. He got his parking space. I looked over at the empty handicap parking space. What just happened here?

The kids in the fire lane got it right. Me, trying to pull over and not sit in the fire lane – I got it wrong. I got into my car and finished backing out of the space that is not a space. I drive around the parking lot. I pull up and wait in the fire lane like everyone else.

My daughter came out of the bank. The rain stopped. We stopped at McDonalds. The french fries helped.

I drove home a little more wary of the suburban parking lot and old guys wearing bermuda shorts and white socks.

Summer in Suburbia

My intent is always to post regularly here on Suburban Island but lately I have been so busy with work and travel, family and household, that there has been very little time for me to keep up with my good intentions. In May, I traveled to LA and in June, to Baltimore. In July, I will travel to St. Louis. I love to travel but there were a million things to do for work and home in between. At the end of the day I am worn out. I find that when I am tired my muse goes to sleep even when I stay awake. The writing muse is a quite a diva and refused to be turned on and off like a spigot even though that would be very convenient.

The saving grace for me this year was the end of the school year – something I look forward to with as much anticipation as any school kid. School is really over – has been for more than a week - and it feels heavenly. The schedule at home and work is arduous but this lightens the load because my teenagers are not worried about school schedules and projects but working and friends and getting some relaxation. The reduction in their daily cares impacts me in a positive way. My maternal load is lightened. I have no kids to make sure get up by 6:30 AM for school so I can concentrate on sleeping in a little bit most mornings. I have no kids in school so there are no surprise projects or assistance needed with pesky papers and such. Yes, we are in a sweet spot – the summer break.

Now that it is truly summertime, I have actually found a moment – right here and right now – where I can take a few minutes to write. It’s exciting and these days it's a bit novel. I feel the words clamoring to get out through my fingers via the busy tapping on my keyboard and right into a genuine Suburban Island entry. The days have been nice and long – although seriously rainy – and in spite of the rain, I am in an energized and cheerful mood. I feel a Suburban Island moment coming on and it’s about time.

First, I will note a few misadventures that have taken me by surprise lately in the way many misadventures tend to do:

Misadventure One – I Cannot Thrive Without My Drive

The hard drive on my personal laptop gave up the ghost one evening earlier this month. The hard drive failure on my personal laptop occurred as I was just about to go off to a conference in Baltimore. The hard drive trauma deprived me of a couple weeks of online time. When it came back from the repair shop, it came back pretty bare. Almost all of my programs were gone. I could thank the Toshiba Tech, Sebastian, endlessly for saving all my desktop items, my pictures, my documents and most of my music. I know it was a pain. He is my hero.

Misadventure Two – No More Pencils, No More Books, No More Teachers Dirty Looks

(I apologize ahead of time to my teacher pals for whining about this misadventure.)

My son’s English teacher decided that she would give him a D+ for the year. He was 1.02% away from a C for the whole year. He had earned a C each quarter except the second quarter in which he got a D. He’s not an English scholar but I don’t see how this all adds up to a D. Moreover, I don’t understand why she didn’t talk to him about how to he might work to bring up his grade by this small percentage – especially because she said that it was no more “than a pencil check or a homework assignment”. I did some arguing about this but you know how it goes. It’s really too late to effect a change in the grade now. The frustrating thing is that all year long he told me he was having trouble with this teacher and I told him to just try to do his best to deal with her. I requested that he not be in this teacher’s class next year. As for the kid, it never hurts to fine tune your classroom performance. Live and learn.

Misadventure Three – The House That Would Not Keep Itself

I have a house. I have a husband. I have kids. I have chaos. Work and family trump household chores in this home every time. The result is a house that needs help or a mom that needs help or perhaps both. Know any house elves that need a good home to oversee?

Misadventure Four – The Car Crazy Kid

I have another car that is cool but needs work parked in front of our house. It needs a new transmission. It is a needy car. Why is it here? It’s a turbo. It was cheap. I let people talk me into things.

Misadventure Five - The Missing Reports

Have you ever worked so hard and been so busy that you thought you had done some things that you hadn't actually gotten around to at all? I had lots of work reports that I thought I had submitted for the month of May but when I went back and looked for them, they were gone... It's not because somebody stole them. It's because I never actually did them at all. They are vapor works and they are hell to catch up on. I got them all done this week but it wasn't very pretty. They say a stitch in time saves nine. I hate it when they are right. However, it's true. Doing back reports is much worse than keeping up with them in the first place. Unfortunately, June's are a bit behind (29 days) as well. At least I know I'm behind. Maybe I'll do better with this in July.

This is what is going on here on Suburban Island. What’s the story on your island?

Springtime on Suburban Island

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Recently my son drove me around Suburban Island in his latest project car to enjoy the spring day together. Hop in and join us. Enjoy the spring flowers, green lawns, and sunshine.