Look at me.  Please turn around and look at me.  I have spent my entire life waiting for this moment. 

Pulling up to this car of all cars made me realize that life isn’t a series of random events.  It is not a web of chance, but a carefully spun web of purposeful happening upon happening upon happening.  And it all leads up to one moment of truth.

And here was my truth.  Right in front of me.

Perhaps it was the speed at which I followed him.  Or perhaps it was my insistence on capturing the moment on film.  Or could it have been my screaming out the window as I drove?

Either way, I learned one very important thing today.  Destiny can drive faster than me.  Much, much faster.

I sometimes wonder who creates receipt abbreviations.  Imagine the power.  You have the license to be creative in a format that most won’t read.  The world is your abbreviated oyster.

The writer of this particular abbreviation now holds my utmost respect.  One can only guess what was happening the day this abbreviation was created.  And even better, one can only guess what this item actually is!

Other than fescue and worms, I am really not sure what it could be that hurts ass.

Honestly, internetz.  What in the world was this item?!

For two weeks, I have seen this truck driving through our area.  But I’ve never been near enough to take a picture.  I see him ahead and he turns.  He closes in behind me and stops at a light.  Indeed, this mystery reindeer truck is harder to photograph than Big Foot!

Until yesterday.

Just as before, my daughter and I saw it ahead in traffic.  “Mom! Mom!  The Reindeer Truck!  Get your camera!”  However, by the time we neared the sighting area it was gone.  Then it happened.  My daughter turned her head and yelled, “THERE!”

Sure enough, the truck was right next to us in the left turn lane.  Just WAITING for a picture.  I reached for the camera.  I dropped it and it slid down the van.  I stretched and grabbed it.  Then I hit the wrong app.  No!  Not Words With Friends!  NOT NOW!

“MOM!  Hurry!  Hurry!”

And then I got it.  I got THE PICTURE.  I have the Reindeer Truck image captured for all eternity.  Little does the driver know just how much I have worked for this one very thing.

Now, I am waiting for the day he actually turns on the LIGHTS.  For that picture, I will CHASE HIM DOWN.

I, however, cannot pull it off.  I am just not the F-Word kind of girl.  If I even tried to use it, I would probably do it all wrong.  You wouldn’t think a good deal of my family lives in New York, right?  (My mother is going to be mad at me for that.)

So imagine my teen boys’ great surprise when last week, I, Katherine, dropped the dreaded F-Bomb.

Indeed, while cooking dinner I innocently walked over to the refrigerator and opened it.  As I did, my leg hit the bottom door shelf, causing all of its contents to shoot towards the kitchen floor.  One of these items happened to be a full liter bottle of soda.

Soda is heavy.  As a matter of fact, it is so heavy that when it slammed directly on to my foot, I dropped the F-Bomb.  And then I froze.  There was total silence behind me.  I slowly turned my head, holding my breath.  Did they hear me?  Are they in the den?  Am I safe?

“BWAH HA HA HA!  Mom!!!  You DROPPED THE F-BOMB!”  “Michael, Mom dropped the F-BOMB!”  And Mom, you didn’t even say it right!  You went ‘FEK!’  Ha ha!  ‘FEK!’  ‘FEK!’”  “MOM DROPPED THE F-BOMB!”

“Well, you would say it too if you had a giant bottle of soda hit your bare foot!”

“FEK!”

“Shut up!”

“FEK!”  “FEK!”  “FEK!”

Ugh.  Teenagers.  Thank heavens my daughter wasn’t there.

The next day, my oldest son reminded my middle son that Mom dropped the F-Bomb.  “FEK!”  While lifting my foot on to the couch for my middle son to see, I replied, “You would have TOO if you had a huge bottle of soda land on your foot!”  I pointed to the growing black bruise on the top of my foot.

And then my middle son began to laugh.  And laugh and laugh and laugh.  “MOM!  You have MUCH worse problems then THAT! LOOK AT YOUR LITTLE TOE!  It is HORRIBLE!  OH MY GOSH!  Look at that!  It is DISGUSTING!  HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH THAT!?”

Sigh.  Indeed… I have a wonky little toe.  I can’t help it.  I was born that way.  Wonky.

So what do I do?  Take a picture of it for the blog.  What happens next?  My daughter looks over at the picture on my screen, points to my big toenail and exclaims, “MOM!  It looks like JESUS!”

A FACE?

Squinting, I moved my face closer to the screen. Sure enough, there is somebody on my big toe.  I don’t think it is Jesus.  If you squint a bit, I think it actually looks like one of the Bee Gees.  Come to think of it, the Bee Gees all kind of looked like Jesus anyway, right?

Either way, I hope NONE of them heard me drop the F-Bomb!

Funny thing about feedback?  Sometimes the person giving it thinks twice and decides to soften the blow just a tiny bit.  This was apparently the case, as noted by the additions I later found on the glass:

Indeed, I am so glad I am not a “Weird Mom,” but rather a “Weird <heart-smiley face> Mom.”  What a relief.

Oh wait, that says FACTS.  Never mind.

Funny thing… I received this text message from a co-worker just a few mornings ago:

“Check out this parking job.. Probably female driver…..”

Oh goody!  He attached a picture along with the text message.  Don’t you just love a good fail picture?

I eagerly scrolled down and… ummmmm…

Dash it all.  It’s my car.

In my defense, I swear those first three spots have crooked lines.  And it was 6:30 in the morning when I maneuvered that baby in.

You can only imagine my great joy when I pulled in to the gym parking lot only to see a kindred spirit.

Park on baby.  Park on!

Honestly.  It was almost 100 degrees outside when this gentleman set up his signs.  Obviously, he felt very strongly about his message.

That got me thinking.  If I put out signs myself, what would they say?

I am dying to know… what would your own sign say!?