The Problem with Yellow Cars

When I was young, I remember witnessing an odd conversation between my cousin and my uncle. As I remember things, my cousin said she wanted a yellow car of some type when she grew up. Yellow cars are very cool, after all. I know many people think red cars are the coolest, but red is too obvious. A red car wants everyone to know that it is better than everything else. A yellow car THINKS it's cooler than everything else, but can't be bothered to care if you agree or not. (Yes, yellow cars are all jerks!)

"Hey, check out how awesome I am!!"

"Oh. I see you're here. Whatever..."

Anyway, my uncle, overhearing my cousin's car preferences, said "Why would you want to get a yellow car? You'd never be able to drive it." My cousin chuckled and rolled her eyes a little, as if this made total sense to her. I, however, had no idea what they were talking about. So my cousin kindly explained my uncle's theory about yellow cars, which is as follows: if you think about it, you really never see two yellow cars driving on the same road at the same time. This is because there is a rule against it. There can never be more than one yellow car driving on any given street at any given time. This rule is explained to all yellow car owners at the time they purchase said yellow car. So, basically, you have to work out a system or schedule of some kind with all of the other yellow car owners to make sure you do not violate the yellow car limit.

Once I understood the background, I chuckled right along with my cousin at how funny her father could be sometimes. How silly it would be if that were true. What a kidder! But, over the years, I was often reminded of my uncle's theory because I could never disprove it! Every time I saw a yellow car I would instantly begin scanning every other car in sight, searching for another. But there never was one.

It's almost as if... *gasp*... they all agreed to stay home! It's true!!!!!

So, eventually, I went off to college. One day, while driving around with my roommates, I shared my uncle's theory with them. They immediately started trying to prove it false, just as I had been doing for years. But, over time, it somehow evolved into a contest between me and them. Their job was to find two yellow cars. If they did, my job was to explain the reason that those two yellow cars didn't count and, thus, reinforce my uncle's theory. Common examples for these reasons included things like, "No, only one of the cars was moving. The other one was stopped at that light because he knew he needed to wait for the other car to leave before he could start driving again." Or, "Actually, a divided highway is considered two separate roads and those cars were headed different directions, which means they weren't on the same road." Or, when my roommate texted me a picture of two yellow cars she saw while riding with someone else, "This is a still picture. I see no evidence that either one, let alone BOTH, of those cars were actually moving." As a result of these and other excuses that I used in our fun new game, some rules began to emerge:

• Both cars must be in motion at the same time.
• The cars must both be driving on the same road, not just both visible at the same time.
• The cars can be going opposite directions, but both directions must be connected parts of the same road. A divided highway is considered two separate roads.
• Taxis do not count.
• Neither do any other vehicles where the color is part of a business or service. (Such as a DHL delivery vehicle or something.) The vehicle must be intended for private, not business, use and the yellow color must be a purely cosmetic decision.

No one was ever able to produce an example of yellow car concurrence that fit the rules. There was always some reason why one or both of the cars didn't "count". The excuses didn't even have to get silly or outlandish. There was always a reasonable way to disqualify each example that was given.

And I think we can all agree that the taxi rule just makes sense. I mean, come on!

My husband and I met in college and he experienced my roommates and I playing our game. He, naturally, joined the resistance and also began looking for and pointing out yellow cars. One day, some time after we were married, we were driving along together when my husband said he could see two yellow cars driving on the same road. I began my usual checklist: they were both moving. We were on a divided highway, but they were both heading the opposite direction from us, meaning they were on the same road. I strained to see over the cement walls between us, while still paying attention to my own driving. As they passed us, I informed Brent of the sorry news: it didn't count because one of the cars was a taxi and everyone knows taxis don't count. He tried to argue with me, insisting that neither car was a taxi, but by this point they were out of sight and so he couldn't confirm his claim. We argued playfully about it for a while and then moved on to other things.

 "It was a taxi." "No, it wasn't." "It had a thing on top. Ya know. Like a taxi." "No, it didn't. It was a regular car." "You're wrong." "You're wrong." "What do you want for lunch?" "Pizza."

Some time later, we were disagreeing about something. During the conversation I said something like, "You're wrong. Just like you were wrong about the taxi." The disagreement was forgotten and the Taxi War began anew. On another occasion, Brent tried something like, "Who are we going to believe? Me, or someone who can't even tell the difference between a taxi and a regular car?" And again we dived right in. This became a pattern that continued... and continued... for several years! In the midst of a disagreement, one of us would try to use our position on the taxi as proof of our rightness, bringing on the debate again. We even began betting on it. When one of us was REALLY sure we were right, we would try to make a deal where we would research the point in question and whichever one of us was wrong about that would have to concede defeat on the taxi issue as well. Phrases like "I'll bet you the taxi that I'm right," and "How sure are you? Taxi sure?" were commonly used, and usually resulted in the other person backing down because neither of us wanted to take that bet. The stakes were just too high.

Well, not long ago, Brent and I were having another little disagreement. At one point, I pulled out one of the classics like, "I was right about the taxi and I'm right about this." Then, Brent did the unthinkable! He said, "You know, it's been so long I don't even remember who's right anymore. I have no idea if it was a taxi or not." "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" I yelled. "How could you?! I've been lying to you about this for five years and now you go and just ruin everything! You monster!!" The shock on his face and the shouts of, "Are you kidding me?!" were terribly satisfying! So I told him the truth. When we saw the cars all those years ago, I saw that there was no way to disqualify them. So, I used the first excuse I could think of. I figured I would tell him after a while, but then it became a thing. And I was having a lot of fun with my new thing.

After I let Brent in on my secret, we both had a good laugh. Because, while some people might think it's awful that I would lie to him for so many years, he had the good sense to realize how epically hilarious it was. But I was also a little/a lot sad. Because now I've lost my favorite mind game. Anyone have a good suggestion for a new one?

Life Lesson Learned: Sometimes, lying is fun.

Letters to People I Don't Actually Know

To everyone who lives within a 3 block radius of my house,

I was an elementary school teacher. One of my duties was supervising the students at recess. In order to get the attention of that many kids spread that far apart on a playground, you have to have a good whistle. And in this case, good means loud. So, when I cleaned out my classroom, my whistle made it's way to my home in one of the boxes.

I have a 5-year-old son. I kept telling him this summer to find something fun to do so he isn't just watching TV all day. Well, the other day, he did.

So, to answer some of your questions:

• That whistling sound is coming from my yard.
• Yes, I realize just how annoying it is.
• No, I won't have him come inside so it doesn't bother you as much, because then it would bother me more.
• Yes, I know exactly how selfish that is. And I'm good with it.

Sincerely,

Me

To the person in my neighborhood who owns a cat,

Your cat pooped in my backyard at some point. I mowed my lawn today.

 I hate you.

Sincerely,

Me

To the lady I had never met before, who stopped me in the store to ask me what school my son would be going to, and who then said to me, a public school teacher, "Do you want to know a better option than this public school crap?" and who, despite my comment that I am proudly a public school teacher so be careful what you say ha ha, then proceeded to tell me everything that has ever gone wrong in her autistic son's education and how much better it has been since discovering some online academy that has just been wonderful,

It was nice interesting talking to you.

Sincerely,
Me



To Costco,

Chocolate Sea Salt Caramel Pretzels.

Sincerely,
Mrwfl (Sorry, my mouth was full) Me

To whoever left these 6 shopping carts spread across these 3 parking spaces,

You are all awful. It was, what, another 6 feet to put them in the little cart return thing? You really couldn't handle that? And I know most of you are probably thinking, "Well, there was/were already between 1 and 5 carts there. I didn't start it. Is it really my fault if I'm just following what everyone else does all the time?" Yes, yes it is. If anything, you're worse. You looked at the effects of one person's lazy disregard for others and thought, "Yeah, I like the way this guy thinks." I mean, I'd like to give you the benefit of the doubt that maybe you had an emergency or some other sort of extenuating circumstance that would explain your inability to fulfill the minimum requirement of human decency. But I think we all know that probably isn't the case. If it is, consider yourself exempt from my disdain. If it isn't, oh who am I kidding? If you cared at all about my disdain, or the feelings of anyone else around you, you wouldn't have left the cart there in the first place. 

Sincerely,

Me on my 4th pass through the parking lot, still looking for a place to park

Basketball and Embarrassment

I am not amazing at sports. I'm probably best at soccer, but I was never as good as I should have been, given how long I played. At my athletic best, I'm decent and at my worst, well... let's just say you don't want to play Frisbee with me unless you are part Labrador and love a good game of fetch.

Okay, I got it. Would you please not throw it halfway to Hawaii this time?

One sport where my talentlessness always really shined was basketball. Oh, I could dribble up and down the court in a no-nonsense, by-the-book kind of way. And I could pass pretty well, as long as I paid attention to who I was passing to so I didn't accidentally pass to the other team (which I think I only did once). And I never forgot a rule once I learned it, but I seemed to only learn one at a time as I was being informed that I was breaking it.

What's that? I can't do that? Wow. Who knew. Oh, EVERYONE else knew that? Huh.

My weakest skill was one of the most important: shooting. I had/have terrible aim. And even if, due to some mystical aligning of the planets, I managed to make a basket, it was generally just a fluke. I could never duplicate it. All of this led me to the only logical conclusion: muscle memory is a myth! Yeah, they say that if you do something a bunch of times, your body will learn to do it without you having to think about it. Nope. Doesn't work. Must be one of those things people tell you to justify making you do some kind of drills. In fact, if Einstein really did say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, it was probably after watching me try to make a free throw.

Can you believe this girl?

So, I was never on a school team (because I may have been bad, but at least I was aware of it). But, I did play on a church team. Not exactly the NBA, I know, but I tried. And then came that bleak Monday in February. (All of our games were on Saturdays and I have no idea what month it was, but Mondays and February are both so bad that I've rescheduled this memory to allow for an appropriate setting.) Anyway, that Monday the ball was under the other team's basket. I was staying back at about half court, looking for a way to be useful, when suddenly the ball shot out of the crowd of players under the basket and found me quite alone. I caught it and dribbled quickly and purposefully to our basket.

As you imagine this scene, you are probably thinking how lucky I was to find myself with such an easy lay-up opportunity. Oh, you. So cute. So full of misplaced optimism. A lay-up was not exactly in my wheelhouse. But I was totally alone, so I felt like even I could probably just stop and take a calm shot from right under the basket. So I did. The ball sailed up past the rim... and then came right back down into my still up-stretched hands. Embarrassing, yes, but I glanced at the two teams worth of teenage girls bearing down on me from the other end of the court and judged that I still had time. I made a slight adjustment and shot again. Does Einstein have anything to say about doing DIFFERENT things but ending up with the SAME result? Because I couldn't have copied that first shot better if I'd been trying to. (Because if I'd been trying, I wouldn't have been able to.) Up it went, and down it came. The attacking herd was closing in. Just enough time for one more shot. Again, a perfect reenactment. Up and down. At this point, having missed three times from a foot away, I decided to accept the inevitable, and just found a teammate to pass to.

I have thought about this experience over the years and I have come to another conclusion: muscle memory isn't a myth. I just have something akin to muscle Alzheimer's. My arms don't make new memories. They do something once, and then they forget it ever happened. Even just moments later, they can't seem to rustle up even an inkling of what they have just done, let alone recreate it. However, every once in a while, they have a surprisingly clear, and frustratingly persistent, moment of memory. It's kind of the equivalent of your senile great grandfather suddenly and repeatedly telling a story about something that happened when you were 12. But, in the case of MY muscles, the story is never one of the good ones. It's usually something weird and vaguely inappropriate that you wish he had forgotten. He can't remember that you won a Nobel Prize, but he keeps telling the story about the time you wet your pants at the family reunion. And I couldn't hit a ball with a bat if my life depended on it, but you just watch me drop the same piece of bread on the floor four times in a row. Oh, yeah. I'm impressive.

Now, that basketball game happened about 20 years ago. It wasn't really a major life event or anything, so why do I bring it up now? Because that's exactly what my brain does to me. At random times and in random situations, it will suddenly present me with a memory of something that happened a long time ago. And as bad as my physical muscle memory is, my emotional muscle memory seems nearly eidetic. So I don't just have some vague recollection of what happened. I remember it all in perfect detail, including just how stupid I felt. And I can't just stop at REMEMBERING how dumb I felt. My brain decides I need to feel just as stupid all over again. And so I stand there in the middle of the pasta aisle, feeling like an idiot because I called my fourth grade teacher "Mom" that one time.

"And then the kids next to me started laughing! Seriously, Mom, it was the worst day of my ENTIRE life."

So, in the end, it seems like muscle memory, physical or otherwise, is a thing. The more you do something, the more likely you are to do it again. The more you think about something, the more likely you are to think about it again. And it seems, in my case at least, that the more you try to control what you do and what you think about, the more you realize that you can't and that you just seem to be along for the ride and that you're not really sure who's driving. But it's okay, because at least there's a lot of interesting scenery to see along the way.

Hey, look. I think I can see the play where I had to sing a solo dressed as a toy clown from here!

Life Lesson Learned: Ooh, remember the time you got really car sick driving on that really windy road and threw up all down the side of your friend's mom's minivan and felt really awful about it? Well, now you do.

Here It Comes!

So, one of my students informed me the other day that "It's almost Valentine's!!" Now, this was about 3 weeks ago, so I hadn't even begun to think Valentine's thoughts yet because it seemed so far away. (And before anyone gets the wrong idea, to a second grade teacher, "Valentine's thoughts" consist mainly of speculating on how many mugs I'll get this year and identifying new victims on whom I can unload large numbers of dollar store boxes of chocolates.) Then, last week, this same boy again reminded me that "It's almost Valentine's!!!!!" (The increase in exclamation points is a direct representation of the increase in the level of excitement with which he relayed the information.) Again, I was a little dismissive because I still thought I still had plenty of time. But then it dawned on me that it's only a week away. How the heck did that happen?

                     

                                         Oh, Valentine's Day. You sneaky little ninja, you!

I guess the reason I wasn't prepared is that I just don't find Valentine's Day that exciting. But, for some reason kids do! You would think I'd stop being surprised or confused by this, but I never do. I mean, they go absolutely nuts! Even the boy who reminded me about Valentine's Day was surprising. I have some pretty excitable girls, and some boys, in class who I would expect to get worked up about Valentine's because they get worked up about everything! They bounce off the walls at the first sign of something cute or fun. (The sight of a kitten might just be enough cute to put them into a coma.) So hearts and flowers and chocolates and cards are right up their adorable little alleys. But this kid isn't really the type. He's fairly quiet and doesn't show a whole lot of emotion about things. In fact, when I asked some kids if they were excited for Christmas, he actually shrugged at me.

                           

                                                       Yeah, yeah. Presents. Whoopee.

But when he said the word "Valentine's," it was like you could see the explosions of pink and red heart-shaped confetti going off in his head. Why?! What is it that is so exciting? Is it the glitz and glamour of pink construction paper decorations? Is it the cheesy little cards covered in Spongebob, Ironman, and every Disney princess ever? Is it the chalky, disgusting candy hearts that help kids express the deepest emotions of their souls?

     

                       "I wanted her to e-mail me, but I just never knew how to put it into words!"

Whatever it is that they love so much, Valentine's Day is a very special time for children. It's a time when kids give gifts to everybody, not just their closest friends. They spread love and kindness to all people, regardless of who they are. And I should really follow that example. So, if you are walking down the street in the late afternoon on February 14th and a dollar store box of chocolates flies at you from a moving car, just know that it's only me. Spreading love and kindness. You're welcome.

Life Lesson Learned: Love is in the air...or maybe it's something in the water!

Just Around the Corner

So, I've been thinking a lot lately about how stupid most people are. No, no. Don't be offended. I don't just mean all of you OTHER people. I absolutely include myself in that. I am a complete and total idiot. A lot of us are. Let me explain.

We all basically just want to figure out how to be happy in life. A noble goal, sure. But, as we search for the answer that will turn every day into butterflies and rainbows, we often come up with the notion that happiness is waiting for us just around the next bend in the road of life. And so we all get sucked in by the same thought. The same foolish, misguided, and (dare I say) idiotic thought. See if you recognize it. It goes like this: "I can't wait until [insert life event here]. It'll be so awesome!" No, it won't. Think about it.

When we're little everything is about what we'll get to do once we're older. "Why do I have to eat this gross meatloaf? We've got pie. Why can't I have pie?" That's where it starts. "I can't wait until I can eat whatever I want. It'll be so awesome when I'm eating nothing but Pop Tarts, tater tots, and candy." Or there's this one: "These clothes are ugly and stupid. Mom has absolutely no fashion sense at all. I can't wait until I can choose my own clothes. It'll be so awesome because my swimsuit would go great with this tutu, and I just know they would both look incredible with these snow boots and my bicycle helmet." Or "I don't need a nap. I'm perfectly fine. I can't wait until I can stop taking naps. It'll be so awesome when I can stay up forever and run around and go to school and play Candy Land and dig holes and eat pickles and do chores and draw a giraffe and never stop moving EVER!!!" And so we long for the day when we'll finally be "older". That's when it'll get good.

And then we get older and everything is puppydogs and sunshine, right? Wrong. Instead, we realize that we didn't read the fine print. "So, now I have to clean up after myself, too! But, I just spent all day playing with these toys. Haven't I done enough for one day?" "What? You mean I have to go to school ALL DAY, AND follow directions, AND do my work, all without a nap? What are you, insane?!" "I'm too old to watch Dora?! But she's my mejor amiga in the whole wide mundo!!" And as we notice that our lives are still hard, we come to the decision that this must not be the good part yet. Clearly, it's still coming up. So we again look into the future for that magic time when everything will be easy and life will be happy. "I can't wait until I get a car. It'll be so awesome when I can go wherever I want." "I can't wait until I move out. It'll be so awesome when I can get away from my parents and all of their rules." "I can't wait until I'm out of high school. It'll be so awesome when I can finally just study the things I'm interested in." We oh so bravely blaze onward, trudging through all those trials toward that day when it'll all work itself out.

And then we get to college and, finally, the world is our oyster, yes? Nope. Once again, life sneaks up on us and spits in our food when our backs are turned. "Well, now I can finally stop studying all of that useless stuff the school used to make me do. I can just focus on my chosen field, which is... something... that is... going to be... awesome! Crap! What am I going to do with my life? Oh well. I'll just take a few random classes until I figure out what I want to OH MY GOSH COLLEGE IS EXPENSIVE!!! I better make a decision before I waste more money on another semester of fencing and needlepoint." And, as we stand there with nothing to eat but Pop Tarts and tater tots, dreaming of Mom's meatloaf and an afternoon nap, we again decide this can't be what we were waiting for. We must not be there yet. But it's coming. Just you wait and see. It's going to be amazing.

And we never stop. "I can't wait until I get out of school and can finally start really working at this job I've been training for," becomes "I can't wait until I can stop working at this job I've been slaving away at." "I can't wait until I finally have kids," sometimes turns into "It'll be so awesome when my kids are finally old enough to take care of themselves."

Even on a smaller scale, we do the same thing. "I can't wait until this week ends. It'll be so great to be done with work and just rest. Wait, there are dishes and laundry to do? I have to shovel the driveway? We're having friends over and I have to make a dinner? My neighbor needs help hiding a body?" Ok, maybe not that last one. But, the rest is plausible.

Now, this may all seem like I'm saying life will always be terrible. You may have noticed the part at the beginning of this rant where I said life wouldn't ever get awesome. I stand by that, but I don't mean what you might think. I don't mean that awesome things won't ever happen. I'm not saying we shouldn't be excited about the future and look forward to the next big adventure in life. I just mean that every new adventure means new challenges, too. So no matter what awesome thing happens, there will always be some decidedly unawesome stuff happening, too. If we can't see how awesome life is now, we're not going to be able to see it any better in a month or a year or ten years. If we make a habit of focusing on those bad, unpleasant, unawesome things in our lives, we'll just keep seeing them and we'll always be waiting for the good times to finally start. We need to train ourselves instead to see how good we have it now. There are amazing things happening in our lives every day, if we look for them. Like Scrooge learned from the Muppets, "Life is full of sweet surprises. Every day's a gift." So let's all stop being stupid and be awesome instead.

Life Lesson Learned: Life is awesome, and Jim Henson is my hero!

My Not-So-Special Special Day

So, today was Mother's Day. This was a big day for me because this was my first Mother's Day as an actual mother. And you know what? It felt a lot like other Mother's Days. I didn't really feel much different. Sure, people wished me Happy Mother's Day a lot and they usually don't. But for all the impact it had on me they may as well have been wishing me a Happy Rosh Hashanah.

I thought that once I was a mother, this day would feel more like it was for me. But I've started to wonder if that will ever really happen. Maybe when I have kids old enough that THEY are wishing me Happy Mother's Day it will really sink in. Maybe once I start getting paper flowers and handprint art, maybe then I will feel like this day is for me. But maybe that's not how it works. Maybe this day will just always be one that makes us reflect on our mothers instead of ourselves. And really, I think that is a much more meaningful use of a day. For 364 days of the year, we all get to pretend that we were the perfect children and that it was a privilege for our mothers to be allowed to raise us. But once a year, we are forced to acknowledge how amazing our mothers are/were and that they put up with a lot. Especially as we get older, we look back and recognize that our mothers really did know what they were talking about sometimes and that we probably should have taken their advice more often.

But here's the part where I get to keep my "I was the best child ever" delusion from cracking quite so much. I totally realized what a genius my mom was the whole time. When she gave me advice, I knew it would probably be smart to listen. And even when I didn't see it right away, I figured it out pretty quickly when my choice blew up in my face. So I get to just look back at life and be pretty satisfied with it all because I knew what was up before everyone else. But for the rest of you, don't feel bad. Just be comforted by these two things: 1) you learned a lot from those experiences and you now appreciate your mother even more. 2) I'm almost completely full of it!

In all honesty, I really always have known what a great mother I have and how lucky I am. So on this Mother's Day, let me just say to my own mother, thank you. You were, and still are, my expert on everything. You were always willing to listen whenever I needed to talk (and I had a lot to say, so that's something). You made me feel important, intelligent, funny, and beautiful, even when I didn't really believe I was. (So if I'm a little egotistical now I think I will blame you.) You are the mother I hope I can be one day. Thank you for everything.

Now stop crying.

Life Lesson Learned: I've got a long way to go...

Insomnia

Have you ever had trouble sleeping? The house is quiet, everyone else is asleep, and you're just lying there staring into the dark, thinking about everything you have to do for the next ten years and everything that's ever gone wrong in your life and everything you've ever lost and where it might be and everyone who's ever made you mad and how stupid they are... And so on. Have you? And while you're lying there, have you ever started listening to the person next to you? You hear their even, heavy breathing that borders on snoring and the squeaking of the springs under them as they roll over. Have you? And while you listen, has it ever just started to tick you off? You start thinking about how unfair it is that they can fall asleep in five minutes, no matter where they are or what's going on, even though you take an hour to fall asleep even on a good night. You think about how you're the one that has to get up multiple times in the night to feed your baby while they get to keep snoring soundly and so you need to get all the sleep you can in between because you also have to get up early for work, and yet THEY'RE the one who actually get all of that sleep. Have you? And as you get angrier and angrier at the injustice of it all, have you ever thought that if you can't sleep, they don't deserve to either? And then, have you ever suddenly just kicked them in the leg as hard as you can so they can wake up and see how miserable you are and share some of that misery by being awake, too? Have you? And once they're awake, have you ever suddenly realized what you've done and how unreasonable you're being and felt really bad about it? You realize you're really just mad at your own body and you're taking it out on them when they haven't actually done anything wrong. Have you? And have you ever felt so bad and embarrassed about it that you try to pretend that isn't what just happened? Maybe you pretend you had one of those uncontrollable almost asleep full body spasms and it got out of control. Or perhaps you try to convince them that you didn't touch them at all and they must have dreamed it. Have you? And as they fell back asleep almost immediately and you lay there, still not even close to drifting off, have you suddenly remembered how insufferable they are and wished you'd kicked them as hard as they really deserved? Have you ever done that? Have you? Yeah, me neither...

Life Lesson Learned: He's probably not really trying to sound smug while he snores... Probably.