Two more weeks …

Knowing that I will be broke and unemployed in two weeks has made me the happiest woman alive. I am not sure why I did not do this sooner.

What is the best way to celebrate unemployment?

As I sat on the beach Saturday … wind slapping me in the face … sand ripping at my flesh … I made a decision.  

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I remember watching my grandmother pluck hairs from her chin when I was a young girl. I was horrified. Would this happen to me? Would I turn into a man? My grandmother laughed and shrugged, “it’s just part of getting old.”

It’s official. I am old.

I got my first chinny chin hair the other day. I am not sure how long it was there before I noticed. I do not usually stare at my chin looking for new growth (I might start now).

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The September nights have faded, but the speeding ticket that was handed to me on that horrible Monday still lingers. It is amazing how much of my life has been determined by a stupid piece of paper.

On the right path?

Until recently, “careful” and “cautious” were two words that never fit in my vocabulary. I was reckless, daring and quite frankly … stupid.

With my foot always on the pedal, I missed many turns in life and continued to take the fast route to the finish line. I did not know it at the time, but life is not about who finishes first or who gets there last, it is about all the experiences in between.

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I am temporarily distracted as I drive down the highway of life. I crash through a road block. I fail to notice the many signs with “Wrong Way” written in big, bold letters.

Do you ever wonder if you made a wrong turn in life?

Maybe you went left when you were supposed to go right. It may be a simple change in your route, but what if it completely alters the rest of your drive? Instead of driving the easy and breezy scenic route, you are now on the fast track to arrive at your destination before you were meant to be there. What if the new route leads you to a completely different destination?

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The day that Daisy died …

I will never forget. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was on my way back from delivering a pizza during my days at Domino’s. As I crossed over into a busy intersection with my beloved Daisy, a newly licensed teen slammed into me after running a red light.

Without even looking up, I knew the answer. Daisy was dead. I loved Daisy. She was a beautiful light silvery blue Toyota Corolla. She was my baby.

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I hate Mondays! If this particular day could be wiped off of the calendar, I think life would be much better for everyone.

But, as luck would have it, Monday still exists …

I turned out of my apartment complex onto a road that intersects two school zones. I was barely in the school zone in front of a high school when I noticed a cop standing outside of his car with a radar gun.

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In a world that continues to evolve, I often long for a moment I can control. This moment is mine each time I get behind the wheel of my car.

The smell of cheap plastic …

More than a decade ago, the ticket to freedom was handed to me by a clerk in the driver’s license bureau in Huntsville. I did not realize it at the time, but this woman was equipping me with a beautiful gift. Instead, I saw it as a right of passage. I did not want to drive.

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Every car should have a name. If your car does not have a name, you are showing your car disrespect.

Getting a new car is like having a baby! This car is going to be with you for a very long time and you should make your car feel special by giving her a name that is fitting of her personality.

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