It’s part of my job, you see; talking with kids whose lives are so horrific it would make a sane person curl up into a fetal position.

They say I have the touch. Kids seem to open up to me. They talk about inane things; their pets, their toys, friends at school. Not so much that last. Abused kids don’t tend to make too many friends. They can’t take friends home when they know there’ll be trouble if they do.

They say I’m good at my job. What “they” don’t know is that I’m a frightened kid at heart, too.
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Written for the 100 Word Challenge – word of the week is frightened.
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No, not autobiographical. I do work in the domestic violence field, but not directly with children.

Now, it’s YOUR turn . . . what’s your take on the word? Write away . . . .

41 years ago today . . . my first baby girl entered my life.

Lessa, you have been a constant source of joy, fun, and surprises in our world.

We have “grown up” together and see the world through similar eyes . . . although . . . you do surprise me still.

🙂

I hope your day is special in every way.

love, your mama
(more…)

Headed off to men’s group last night – pulled onto the side road behind a pick-em-up hauling a snowmachine trailer – big enough to hold 4 machines. We both stopped at the light before going onto the highway.

And then . . . .

He backed up – I started honking my horn and yelling – neither of which he apparently heard as he continued backing up and into my little plastic bodied saturn.

And then . . .

the light changed – and he pulled forward and through the intersection. I had unhooked my seatbelt and was getting ready to get out of the car to see what damage might have been done – thinking he was going to get out and check out the damage himself.

Instead he drove off toward town – with me in hot pursuit – still honking the horn and yelling. He pulled into the middle lane – I pulled into the outer lane next to him and finally came even with the front of his truck – the young woman in the passenger seat looked at me and I yelled YOU HIT ME – PULL OVER!

They did – at the entrance to the nearby wally-world. I pulled in behind, got out with notepad in hand and asked his name – as I pointed to the front of the car and repeated – this time where he could hear me – you backed into me at the light – and then you drove away.

He gave me name and number and asked me what I wanted to do – checked the damage and said “I’ll fix it and give you some money, too.”

Sigh – yes, he has that kind of money and money talks – but I am deaf. I did call the police to make a report – they asked us to stay where we were and came out – one officer to write the report – then another with a new office along for the ride – and the learning experience. She took several pictures and wrote in her log book before leaving.

The officer in charge took our documents, called us in with license check, gave us the paperwork we needed to send in for proof of insurance, checked with me to make sure I really didn’t want to see the guy cited, then sent me on my way. I arrived at class only a few minutes late.

I snapped some pictures today – the main damage is confined to scratches on the bumper where the trailer came up and over, then scraped as it pulled away . . . and the license plate holder which was popped out of the bumper.

The other driver talked with hubbymoose today and will come over Sunday (after he gets home from snowmachining with those machines in the trailer) to get the car and “fix it.” We’ll see.

The adrenaline has gone now – and I can even smile about it. After all, I live in Alaska – I make my own fun.

Oh, great! My leg is shaking!

Marta’s Bug was stopped at a 4-way.

I hate hills, I hate hills, I hate hills. The thoughts bounced in tempo with her foot.

Breathe, Marta, breathe. You can do this. Remember what Dad said. “Release the clutch slowly and give it some gas. When the clutch engages, give it more gas and you won’t stall on hills.”

Easy for YOU to say, Dad, Marta argued in her mind. You don’t have a line of cars behind you waiting for you to move.

Well, it won’t move itself, Marta. Shifting gears, she eased forward.
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This week’s 100 Word Challenge from Velvet Verbosity is ENGAGES. Hubby moose taught me to drive a stick shift when we were dating – long, long ago. I can still remember how my legs shook with nerves every time we stopped on a hill or at a light. But, he told me that if I learned to drive a stick, I’d be able to drive anything. So – hats off to every teen learning to drive – you can do it! Ease the clutch and give ‘er some gas and go!

The title is in honor of my soon to be 7 year old youngest grandson. Isaiah loves to play Yellow Car when we are driving. I think Marta’s Bug should be yellow to give me a head start.