Big Ol' Hoopty

Today after a tear-filled graduation ceremony (with me shedding most of the tears), Kelsey Rogstad and I took six kids to a celebratory dinner at Johnny Carino's. After many laughs with the kids and our extremely attractive waiter to whom the kids tried to give my phone number, we headed out to pile into my car and go to Wednesday night services. As luck or the hot weather (which is apparently a thorn in my car's flesh) would have it, my vehicle would not start.

As Kelsey could not fit all seven of us along with herself into the "golden nugget," I hatched a scheme. Since my car usually starts right up after it has had a chance to cool off (in two or three hours), I thought it might help if WE could assist in the cooling off process. I decided to slap it into neutral and let the kids, with Kelsey's guidance, push my car into the carwash next door. I expected that the cool water would expedite the cooling process and we could be on our merry way to Wilshire.

Just imagine the sight of those kids in their graduation clothes - girls in high heels with glittered faces and nails, boys in their Sunday best. We were quite a spectacle. With much effort and a lot of laughs they managed to get my car around the corner. Kelsey quickly put the five dollars in the machine and coached the kids on how to push the car in a manner where they would not get their dress clothes wet. After failing to get my car up the hill and into the wash once, we backed it down the hill and re-pushed it back up in an attempt to get enough momentum to put it into the proper place. Unfortunately there is a timer on the car wash. If your car hasn't pulled in by a certain time, the wash shuts off. By the time we got the car in the correct place, the time had expired.

Another five dollars later the sign lit up with the words "move forward." We decided that it would continue to say "move forward" until the censor was triggered at the entrance of the tunnel. Since my car was resting on the bump in the middle from the last five dollar effort, Kelsey decided to jump on the censor. The only problem with this idea was that when the entrance censor is triggered, water shoots up to wash the undercarriage of the car. This time however, it gave Kelsey her own personal crotch wash while at the same time spraying the kids who were standing behind her.

Let's recap. I am sitting in the car in the carwash tunnel. Kelsey looks as though she's wet her pants after jumping on the censor. The kids have been lightly showered with a car wash mist in the dressiest clothes they own. AND my car still isn't any closer to starting. At this point I gave up starting the car at any point in the near future. We pushed the car out of the tunnel, parked it in front of the gas station, and called Bill Rice (our hero for the evening) to come pick us up in the Rice minivan.

Fortunately, we got to services right after 7:00. All six kids went to the middle school class and thoroughly enjoyed it from what I can tell. After class was over they came running and screaming out of the classroom door telling me how they had attempted to get their teacher (who was married) to go out with me. When he informed them he was married, they asked him if he could "have two wives." In their little minds I'm stuck in this weird parallel universe between being a kid and a grown up because I'm not married and/or I don't have kids of my own. It is so funny to talk to them about it.

All in all, despite my frustration with my car which the kids have lovingly named "Big Ol' Hoopty," I had another million dollar moment tonight. If my future holds more evenings of cars not starting, I hope they are half as much fun as this one was.

Million Dollar Moments

There are a few moments in life that I wouldn't trade for a million dollars. I might just create another blog someday where I post only about those million dollar moments. However, in the meantime, I will post one right here.

For those of you who know, even slightly, the students I work with every day, picture in your mind the one place on earth they would least likely belong. I'll give you a moment to think about it.




























If you guessed a farm, you would more than likely be correct. However, there are three boys in my class this year that refer to themselves as "The Cowboy Triplets." They are in constant conversation about horses and cowboys.

Tonight I took those three boys and went with Miss Rogstad and a fifth grade boy to a farm out in Spencer. We rode horses, looked at pigs, chickens, goats, and even a turkey, and ate some BBQ when we came back into town.

It was funny to hear them talking about how gross "boo boo" is while avoiding stepping in the horse excrement. It was even funnier when they actually saw the horse expelling the waste. I thought I was going to have to carry one of them back across the field to the car because he was so disturbed that "horses go to the bathroom." After the initial shock of seeing fecal matter all over the ground wore off the riding began. Words can’t describe the magic in the eyes of the kids when they were on the horses. They were really in their element!

When we got back into town for dinner we were nothing less than a spectacle. One of the kindergarten boys was adorned in the cowboy hat I purchased years ago as a joke; another was sporting the boots I thought were so cool in the 9th grade. I'm so glad now that I threw neither of those away over the years. We were a sight to see! The transcending of cultural boundaries seems to delight not only those of us involved, but the individuals around us wherever we go. One such delighted (and patient) individual was the young cashier who helped us at Kansas City Blues BBQ. He was quite patient the whole time, even when one of the boys followed him into the back of the kitchen to get the "4 go boxes."

How not to embezzle

Take a lesson from my sister’s stupid golf coach. If you are going to embezzle don’t do it in front of your starving players and their parents while neglecting a seriously ill player.

This week my little sister is at the Junior College Girls’ Golfing National Championship in Daytona Beach, Florida. Before she and the other players left, the AD’s secretary explained to them that they should spare no expense for their meals. They were to eat and eat well on the college while at Nationals. Steak houses were to be the standard. In addition to the good food, they were to stay two players per room in their hotel.

Their coach brought along his wife’s extended family and put three to a room to accommodate her relatives. In addition to that, he stuck one of his aunts in a room with some of the golf girls. Now, hotel accommodations are not a very big deal, I must admit. However, when you feed your players the free breakfast at the hotel (which I also have no problem with as an isolated event), give them a 99 cent bag of cookies and a twenty ounce bottle of water for lunch, and ask them not to select an item worth more than $6 from the supper menu, you begin to wonder where all the money went (especially with multiple contributions including a $10,000 contribution from the Pepsi Co. to help pay the girls’ expenses while at Nationals).

On top of all that, I would think it generally not a good idea to charge the rental van for the team to one of the team member’s parents’ credit cards. If you had indeed done so though, would it not be logical to disallow your eighteen year old nephew (who is staying in a room that was supposed to be for the golf team and is being paid for by the school) to drive the van? I would think this to be especially true when one of your players needs medical attention because she has most likely had, at the very least, a small heat stroke (because you didn’t give her any water when she was out on the sweltering course while you were doing who knows what). However, if you see fit to let your eighteen year old nephew drive the team van two hours down the road in Florida to pick up some more extended family – yes, who are also staying in a room that is supposed to be for the players – don’t be shocked when there are serious ramifications. If there is a sick young New Zealander sitting in her overly populated hotel room puking her guts out, you may want to offer her some medical attention, or at the very least, allow team members to do something for her.

Now, if you are a wise person, methinks it not an intelligent move to do all of this in front of the parents, some of whom have contributed to the girls’ Nationals’ fund. I also think it unwise to have these parent donors drive your golf team around while your uninsured family members are using the team van. It is a wonder how some people have the doggedness to actually attempt these feats in front of an audience. I think instead of worrying about whether or not he has a job when he gets home, he ought to focus his fret on whether or not he will go to prison.