Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Anonymous Karma

Wow, what a weekend.
First softball tournament with, 4am's, rain, cold, wind, my hotel room with four other players because they wanted to stay with us instead of parents (it was a blast, I learned a lot of dirty jokes).
Six games, only lost one.
Loads of future stories.
Many great memories for the girls.

But, there is one that I have to brain barf:
They finally win the last game, I load 2,263,698lbs of wet softball gear, one younger daughter and two toxically smelly softball players into my vehicle and begin to defrost frozen body parts.

"Mom and Mom2, we are RAVENOUS, please fill the gaping maw pronto."
I (I'm Mom & Mom2) oblige and submit to Arbys demands, opposed to many other delicious sit down alternates because of the NEED for FAST and immediate, sustenance plus the whole toxic smelly thing...out of respect for other diners noses.
I satiate the softball beasts with multiple versions of roast beef and curly fries.
I roll very tired softball beasts with curly fry fat bellies out to vehicle for the two hour drive home.
I notice flat tire.

A little back story side bar here.
I tend to be fiercely independent, with a side of feminism. I grew up on a small farm. My dad wanted boys, but got four girls first. Among many other things he was a mechanic and made us learn the basics+.
I can totally change your spark plugs, milk your cow and trim your trees.

Flat tire? I laugh at flat tires! Bring me seized engines, pyracantha, calf scours and I will fix them all with my chainsaw BruHaHah!

Umm, I can't get the spare tire down from under the vehicle.
It's cold.
Lethargic softball chicks crawl under vehic with me.
It's getting dark.
Younger daughter posted as look out so Mom/Mom2 and lethargic softball chicks legs aren't run over.
It's getting colder and darker.
No, lethargic softball chicks, we shan't call the coach or any other team Dad, I can do this! Girl power!
Really cold, dark, rain?
Curse Myself/Mom/Mom2 for not responsibly figuring out newfangled vehic. spare tire thing in advance of need.
I'm not crying out of crazy frustration, it's just the damn rain?
I finally call the husband, and when I convince him that it isn't an April Fool's joke, he calls our roadside service. Yay! Double coverage! One through the lender, one through insurance! This is what we pay for!
One doesn't answer. Other says three hours minimum. It's 8:30 pm, two hours from home, ridiculously cold and the sleep deprivation is getting very rude and demanding.

Man approaches.
Wary, Mom/Mom2 now with severely damaged sense of competency accepts help while the Fry Fat Softball chicks seek warmth in the hand dryers of the Arbys bathroom.

My fractured independence expected chauvinism and misogyny and got nothing even in the ball park (hehe, did you get that lame reference?).

He helped me get the tire down, and we worked together silently until the the spare was on and the flat was stowed.
Then he respectfully suggested I head to the nearest gas station with air, to top off the (Full size YAY= I can still speed home) spare.
I shook his hand, with thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyous, and lamely asked if there was any way I could repay him.
He wouldn't even give me his name.
He just shook my hand and said that he was just another husband helping out another wife in hopes that another husband would do the same for his wife.

I'm truly embarrassed at my stubbornness and preconceived prejudices.

Dear anonymous Pasco Karma Dude,
Thank you.
I have always rejected discrimination based on race, color and nationality, but accepted X vs. Y in some aspect.
My two daughters and my two sons will benefit from this flat tire experience.

Sincerely signed,
Lesson learned/ing.



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