Where are the cameras and producers?

Because, I am totally sure I am being Punk’d. For real, sometimes I think my life is a really sad version of a very comical reality TV show; this is all one bad joke and they’re going to clue me in on it any second now. It has to be reality tv, because no one could make this crap up for a comedy or dramatic series.

So, here’s your laughs today. Because y’all I have to let you laugh with me because crying gives me a terrible headache and makes my face get even more red and my rosacea will flare up for days. Karma has a funny little way of sending me life lessons. A few years ago when park assist on vehicles became all the rage I not so secretly made fun of the idea. I mean really, we need cars with cameras and beepers and lines, and shakers to tell us how to get in a parking spot. I don’t know about you, but my parents taught me to parallel park in a freaking Dodge Intrepid that was 600 feet long. Nobody needs park assist on their car. Well, in 2014 I bought a new car, actually a red bus. But, anyway, they didn’t sell the car I wanted without park assist. You know I was never going to use that mess. Because, if I can’t parallel park this bad boy Downtown Franklin next to Starbucks or Mercantile Deli, I ain’t got no business driving it. Well, that was before traffic went crazy and there were no longer parking spots on the street or in the parking garage, and you had to pretty much park in a field in Spring Hill and walk to Franklin. But, I digress…. But, after driving it a couple years, I kinda got used to my backup camera, and my car telling me when I was kinda close, then too damn close to things around me. And, I fell victim to yet another technology and let it start controlling my life. And, wouldn’t you know just as soon as I become BFF’s with my park assist, it went out. Not even kidding. About six or seven weeks ago a little message popped up on my dash “Service park assist”. That was on a Friday. I had crap to do. I mean lots of crap. I was just recovering from my carpal tunnel surgery and really back in the swing of things, and I just pushed the button to make it go away. Because, you know I can parallel park a bus. The very next freaking day, it was raining, I had to be at Father Ryan for a Dance Showcase, my car was loaded with squealing girls, and dance bags, and props, and I was just praying to make it through 2 shows alive. I wanted to figure out what door we needed to go in, where I should park so I didn’t have to carry things so far, yada yada yada. And, I was parking in a freaking normal parking spot. Did I mention it was raining, because it was. And I decided to change parking spots, so I backed out of the one I was in, and BACKED MY BUS INTO A FREAKING CONCRETE LIGHT POLE. Not a small little thing, a freaking 4′ square base, 30′ tall light pole! Who does that? I mean, did I not see it? And, of course this was totally Jeff’s fault for not telepathically knowing that my Park Assist was not working and he totally should have stopped what he was doing that Friday afternoon to get it fixed, and I obviously wouldn’t have backed into a pole if my little sensors had told me to watch myself.

That was mid-February and I still haven’t had my park assist fixed. Because, well, honestly, I’m kinda mad at myself for doing something so terribly stupid. And, I ain’t got time for my car to be in the shop, and I’m not driving a freaking golf cart while they fix my bus. Fast forward to today. I was in a hurry, went to Sonic to grab food, and was backing out of the car hop spot like a bat outta the hot lands. And, guess what! I backed my car right into a concrete wall. I’m not even kidding. Thankfully, I was going like 2 miles an hour, hit it straight on, and it did no more damage than the concrete light pole had already done. Who does these things? Seriously, I think I should turn in my driver’s license. I have obviously forgot all manner of caution my parents taught me 20+ years ago. So, if you see me and the red bus backing up; in your own best interest get out of the freaking way. I am probably not going to see you, and I will probably back right into you. But, I promise to get my park assist fix soon….

So, if you follow my personal Facebook page, you know from the little blips that I’ve been posting the last couple weeks that Gran has been on the hot mess express. She’s been real bad. Like, super mean bad. Sunday, we had our Bible Study group at our house for dinner and a project, so I took Gran to Belvedere for the day. She doesn’t like me setting up for parties, and she really doesn’t like a house full of people. So, she just had to go. She doesn’t ever really misbehave at Belvedere, but Sunday was special. In the midst of my party, they called me to come get her. She has a little fr-enemy we’ll call Miss G that drives her crazy. It makes me laugh alot, because Ms. G does all the things to Gran that Gran does to us that drives us crazy. Like asking the same question over and over, getting in your face when she wants something, taking food off your plate, pooping in her pants and not cleaning it up, and singing all the time. It is annoying, I get it. Trust me, there are times I want to send Gran to the moon for doing these things. Well, apparently Miss G was acting extra special Sunday, and Gran had enough, and Gran decided to send Miss G into next week. The staff was trying to clean up dinner and get the ladies ready for bed, so Gran had to go to the Principal’s office and got sent home. I’m glad she has dementia and can’t remember that little trick. Because, I can’t be picking her up early every day.

Yesterday, Gran was super mean to me at home. I almost ran away. For real, Jeff was worried when I went outside. He followed me to make sure I wasn’t leaving forever. This morning, when I dropped Gran off at Belvedere, I told the nurse I had $300 cash to ensure she didn’t call me today. I mean, call the ambulance, call the sheriff, call the undertaker, call the dog catcher. Call whoever you need to call if there is a problem, but do not call me. And, I’ll be rolling up in here at 7:00pm and not a minute before…… As I was dropping LK off at dance, Belvedere was calling. Thank you Caller ID for protecting me from that trap, but I ain’t answering. I went to Canada, they don’t have service here, see you next week. If she’s being bad, I don’t want to know. I pay good money for you to just handle it. So, I check my VM. “Ms. Woodford, this is P & J from Belvedere. We heard Ms. Roberts was in the hospital and we just wanted to check and see how you all were doing.” WTF? I thought Gran was there. Oh No! Nurse B took me seriously and didn’t call to tell me they sent her to the hospital. I love you B, but I guess I should call and figure this out. So, I call Belvedere to see what the scoop was and tell them I wasn’t aware she was at the hospital….. Totally wrong person. Gran is alive, and kicking, doing just fine on the hall. And, can I just confess a little something without you thinking I am scum of the earth? I was actually sad that she wasn’t at the hospital. Because, for about 5 minutes I thought we were going to have a peaceful night at home and I was going to get to sleep in my bed all night without a cane beating it down hollering my name……

I told you, I can’t make this stuff up. I feel like I am being Punk’d on a daily basis. I have another funny story, but I gotta run. Thank you all for loving and supporting our family well through this journey. We laugh and we cry, but we make it through.

One thought on “Where are the cameras and producers?

  1. Monica

    OMG!! Just wow!! Thanks for sharing your journey for your sanity and our entertainment. Laughter is the best medicine. Readers Digest had that right!


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