WHO NEEDS A CAR WITH WHEELS LIKE THESE?
Public transportation is not a strong point of High Point. I think there are two buses in town that you never see running after dark. Everything shuts down early except the few bars in town. The humid nights seem to swallow everything in its path that dares to venture to one of the many fast food restaurants that invade this tiny city.
In fact, it is my belief that the town is not welcome to people in general. Most of the buildings in "downtown" sit empty less the two times a year that International Furniture Market takes over High Point and gives the impression that there is indeed life here. It's like driving your car through Universal Studios with its mock storefronts and an occasional oddball running across the street barefoot. There are times I'm tempted to go tear out the few flowers you might see planted along Main Street, just to prove that they're not plastic.
There are few sidewalks encouraging pedestrian traffic. Crosswalks are more rare. I believe this is ploy by the City to off "unwelcomes". I can see them sitting in their city council meetings saying, "Well if we minimize the number of sidewalks and only put in four crosswalks, the likelihood of pedestrians being hit increases. And who walks? Anyone worth having in our mock town should be driving a car!" This comment is then followed by the evil, twanged laughter as they rub their buttery hands together.
But little did they anticipate the backlash they would encounter by removing modes of pedestrian traffic. When the City apparently didn't act, the folk of High Point got creative.
There was the man driving to the convenience store on his ride-on lawn mower that I previously wrote about. He drove this on the road, and I laughed as I flashed back to my first drive with my ex-husband through Sun City where golf carts are street legal. I will never forget pulling up to a stoplight and looking to my husband's left and seeing the shiny, red golf cart waiting in the neighboring lane. I remember thinking how insane that was, but it didn't hold an ounce of craziness next to a ride-on lawn mower, which I'm sure is not street legal, but according to my sister, is not that rare around these parts.
This was odd enough in itself, but then came my first encounter with a motorized wheelchair. It was many months ago and I was making my evening drive home from work down Main Street. Everything as normal as normal can be, when a SUV two vehicles in front of me swerved erratically into the left-hand lane. What the? Then the car in front of me repeated the same maneuver. As that car swerved I saw the problem. Not that far in front of me was a man in a motorized wheelchair driving in my lane against traffic!
"Shiiiitttttt!" I screamed as I quickly glanced over my left shoulder and swerved into the other lane. The man didn't flinch at all. He seemed to be in a haze of alcohol, medication, or sadness. He just continued to drive his wheelchair in the road against traffic. I watched in my rearview mirror as the cars behind me repeated the same dance of "Avoid vehicular manslaughter." I grew angry as I continued my drive home, not with the man, but with this town because there were no sidewalks in that area for him to drive on. Unless the man wanted to go braffing in the grass, he had miles without a sidewalk to access.
This anger was revisited a few months ago when sitting at a stop light, I watched as a motorized wheelchair had to cross the street with no crosswalk, light OR sidewalk. He waited until the light was red for his street and began, but the eager beavers in their cars tried to outrun him as they made their left onto the road he was crossing. I watched in horror as he weaved around cars unwilling to stop. The plot of the City to off the non-drivers was closer to being reality. I was waiting to see someone hit one of these wheelchairs that had no other option but to be one with the cars. I can just see the first dazed man muttering, "It's got wheels so fuck 'em!"
Yesterday came a new sight. I was once again driving home down Main Street when a car a ways ahead of me in the right lane, swerved into mine. I knew this swerve. I know what this is. Sure enough there was a motorized wheelchair. Different man, and this time he drove down the ramp from the porn store into the road. Thing is, there was a sidewalk in this part of town. Alas, it apparently didn't hold the thrills for him that the open road did. He drove in the right-hand land with traffic, as cars swerved and beeped at him. As I passed him, I saw he was smiling. Was it from the adventure and risk he was taking by driving his wheelchair? Then I remembered where he'd just come from and laughed. No. I was quite sure it was what was in his bag.
In fact, it is my belief that the town is not welcome to people in general. Most of the buildings in "downtown" sit empty less the two times a year that International Furniture Market takes over High Point and gives the impression that there is indeed life here. It's like driving your car through Universal Studios with its mock storefronts and an occasional oddball running across the street barefoot. There are times I'm tempted to go tear out the few flowers you might see planted along Main Street, just to prove that they're not plastic.
There are few sidewalks encouraging pedestrian traffic. Crosswalks are more rare. I believe this is ploy by the City to off "unwelcomes". I can see them sitting in their city council meetings saying, "Well if we minimize the number of sidewalks and only put in four crosswalks, the likelihood of pedestrians being hit increases. And who walks? Anyone worth having in our mock town should be driving a car!" This comment is then followed by the evil, twanged laughter as they rub their buttery hands together.
But little did they anticipate the backlash they would encounter by removing modes of pedestrian traffic. When the City apparently didn't act, the folk of High Point got creative.
There was the man driving to the convenience store on his ride-on lawn mower that I previously wrote about. He drove this on the road, and I laughed as I flashed back to my first drive with my ex-husband through Sun City where golf carts are street legal. I will never forget pulling up to a stoplight and looking to my husband's left and seeing the shiny, red golf cart waiting in the neighboring lane. I remember thinking how insane that was, but it didn't hold an ounce of craziness next to a ride-on lawn mower, which I'm sure is not street legal, but according to my sister, is not that rare around these parts.
This was odd enough in itself, but then came my first encounter with a motorized wheelchair. It was many months ago and I was making my evening drive home from work down Main Street. Everything as normal as normal can be, when a SUV two vehicles in front of me swerved erratically into the left-hand lane. What the? Then the car in front of me repeated the same maneuver. As that car swerved I saw the problem. Not that far in front of me was a man in a motorized wheelchair driving in my lane against traffic!
"Shiiiitttttt!" I screamed as I quickly glanced over my left shoulder and swerved into the other lane. The man didn't flinch at all. He seemed to be in a haze of alcohol, medication, or sadness. He just continued to drive his wheelchair in the road against traffic. I watched in my rearview mirror as the cars behind me repeated the same dance of "Avoid vehicular manslaughter." I grew angry as I continued my drive home, not with the man, but with this town because there were no sidewalks in that area for him to drive on. Unless the man wanted to go braffing in the grass, he had miles without a sidewalk to access.
This anger was revisited a few months ago when sitting at a stop light, I watched as a motorized wheelchair had to cross the street with no crosswalk, light OR sidewalk. He waited until the light was red for his street and began, but the eager beavers in their cars tried to outrun him as they made their left onto the road he was crossing. I watched in horror as he weaved around cars unwilling to stop. The plot of the City to off the non-drivers was closer to being reality. I was waiting to see someone hit one of these wheelchairs that had no other option but to be one with the cars. I can just see the first dazed man muttering, "It's got wheels so fuck 'em!"
Yesterday came a new sight. I was once again driving home down Main Street when a car a ways ahead of me in the right lane, swerved into mine. I knew this swerve. I know what this is. Sure enough there was a motorized wheelchair. Different man, and this time he drove down the ramp from the porn store into the road. Thing is, there was a sidewalk in this part of town. Alas, it apparently didn't hold the thrills for him that the open road did. He drove in the right-hand land with traffic, as cars swerved and beeped at him. As I passed him, I saw he was smiling. Was it from the adventure and risk he was taking by driving his wheelchair? Then I remembered where he'd just come from and laughed. No. I was quite sure it was what was in his bag.
IT LOOKS LIKE MY MOMMY'S
My family is famous amongst my friends that I met through my brother. I can't even count the number of times I've heard, "Those Duffins!" after another story recounted by one of them. They will recall tales of my Dad calling to my brother (in a perfect impersonation) in the basement and my brother flipping out; my sister coming after the boys with a saw; my mom saying something competely hsyterical and inappropriate; and me vomiting in the sink when Sean pulled a spaghetti noodle out of his nose.
I love my family. I really do. I have some strains with my father, but most of that is religion-based. Other than that, I wouldn't trade any of them for the world. Dinner usually involved one of us girls talking about poo or how heavy we were bleeding that day, followed by my brother slamming down his utensils and yelling, "I can't EAT with this conversation!" and storming away. My dad would lecture my sister, mom and me about our choice of topic and we'd just laugh and keep up. We're quite the reverse of the stereotype of men and women. The women in my family have a really messed up, sick sense of humor. My dad can be pretty prudish, but has lightened up over the years. My brother is awesome and fun, but would NEVER utter a word about a bowel movement or sex. I've never even heard my brother fart in his near 30 years of life! The women in my family are a bit twisted, but people love hanging out with us.
When we found out my sister was having a girl during her pregnancy, we'd all joke around about watching out because she was going to be like us. When I moved out here, Kylee was two and I felt like I finally had the opportunity to truly get to know her. However, I was warned not to influence her with poo talk or other inappropriate things. I wanted to respect that, but also knew that between my mom and my sister, it wasn't going to happen no matter how hard any of us tried.
It started simply with the book "Everybody Poops." One of my favorites. My brother saw a picture of her reading this and emailed me exclaiming, "YOU bought that for her, didn't you?" I explained they were trying to potty train her, so it was valid.
I've been very careful with not encouraging her about certain things, as to respect my sister's respect that was given from her husband, but sometimes things slip out. Kylee had to go pee a few months ago, so I took her to the potty while Heidi changed in the closet next to the bathroom. She peed, then stood up and grabbed one of the wet wipe toilet paper pieces and stuck it on her head.
"Kylee, don't put that on your head. You use it to wipe your cooter!" I explained.
"HEATHER!" shouted my sister. "Do NOT call it that!"
"What am I supposed to call it then? Her vagina?"
Heidi gasped, "NO! Call it something else. Call it her Lulu."
I started to laugh. "Lulu is better than cooter? I'm more offended by Lulu."
Heidi shook her head and left it at that.
I laugh now when I think of this incident because I realize that I can never really influence Kylee THAT much because my sister and Mom are doing it all themselves. Kylee asked my mom the other night if she had diarrhea? I've never said "diarrhea" in front of her. And I knew she got this from my sister or Mom who always seem to be running from some room shouting, "Oh Lord! I got diarrhea!" Or "Damnit ____! You gave me diarrhea!"
I was at Heidi's last night doing laundry while her and Fletcher met with an alarm systerm guy. I had to pee and went to the bathroom and shut the door. A moment later, Kylee pounded on the door. "Auntie Hethaaaaaaaa! Let me in!" I leaned forward and opened the door. She marched right in, closed the door and stood on her potty.
"Whatca doin' Auntie Hetha? Are you going poo-poo?"
"Nope. Just pee."
"Oh. Otay."
I finished my business, pulled up my pants and went to flush. Kylee was staring in the toilet. "You DID poo-poo!"
I looked in the toilet, and there dried to the side of the bowl was a piece of splatter rock. I started laughing and explained that was not my poo-poo, but that it as left over from somebody else. Kylee stuck her head in the bowl a bit and squinted.
"Yeah, that definitely looks like my Mommy's poo-poo!" And she walked out with me roaring behind her.
The girl is a Duffin, lord help her.
I love my family. I really do. I have some strains with my father, but most of that is religion-based. Other than that, I wouldn't trade any of them for the world. Dinner usually involved one of us girls talking about poo or how heavy we were bleeding that day, followed by my brother slamming down his utensils and yelling, "I can't EAT with this conversation!" and storming away. My dad would lecture my sister, mom and me about our choice of topic and we'd just laugh and keep up. We're quite the reverse of the stereotype of men and women. The women in my family have a really messed up, sick sense of humor. My dad can be pretty prudish, but has lightened up over the years. My brother is awesome and fun, but would NEVER utter a word about a bowel movement or sex. I've never even heard my brother fart in his near 30 years of life! The women in my family are a bit twisted, but people love hanging out with us.
When we found out my sister was having a girl during her pregnancy, we'd all joke around about watching out because she was going to be like us. When I moved out here, Kylee was two and I felt like I finally had the opportunity to truly get to know her. However, I was warned not to influence her with poo talk or other inappropriate things. I wanted to respect that, but also knew that between my mom and my sister, it wasn't going to happen no matter how hard any of us tried.
It started simply with the book "Everybody Poops." One of my favorites. My brother saw a picture of her reading this and emailed me exclaiming, "YOU bought that for her, didn't you?" I explained they were trying to potty train her, so it was valid.
I've been very careful with not encouraging her about certain things, as to respect my sister's respect that was given from her husband, but sometimes things slip out. Kylee had to go pee a few months ago, so I took her to the potty while Heidi changed in the closet next to the bathroom. She peed, then stood up and grabbed one of the wet wipe toilet paper pieces and stuck it on her head.
"Kylee, don't put that on your head. You use it to wipe your cooter!" I explained.
"HEATHER!" shouted my sister. "Do NOT call it that!"
"What am I supposed to call it then? Her vagina?"
Heidi gasped, "NO! Call it something else. Call it her Lulu."
I started to laugh. "Lulu is better than cooter? I'm more offended by Lulu."
Heidi shook her head and left it at that.
I laugh now when I think of this incident because I realize that I can never really influence Kylee THAT much because my sister and Mom are doing it all themselves. Kylee asked my mom the other night if she had diarrhea? I've never said "diarrhea" in front of her. And I knew she got this from my sister or Mom who always seem to be running from some room shouting, "Oh Lord! I got diarrhea!" Or "Damnit ____! You gave me diarrhea!"
I was at Heidi's last night doing laundry while her and Fletcher met with an alarm systerm guy. I had to pee and went to the bathroom and shut the door. A moment later, Kylee pounded on the door. "Auntie Hethaaaaaaaa! Let me in!" I leaned forward and opened the door. She marched right in, closed the door and stood on her potty.
"Whatca doin' Auntie Hetha? Are you going poo-poo?"
"Nope. Just pee."
"Oh. Otay."
I finished my business, pulled up my pants and went to flush. Kylee was staring in the toilet. "You DID poo-poo!"
I looked in the toilet, and there dried to the side of the bowl was a piece of splatter rock. I started laughing and explained that was not my poo-poo, but that it as left over from somebody else. Kylee stuck her head in the bowl a bit and squinted.
"Yeah, that definitely looks like my Mommy's poo-poo!" And she walked out with me roaring behind her.
The girl is a Duffin, lord help her.
THE TOUR D'TRASH
I was just sitting outside reading when I noticed the three boys, around ten, on their bikes in the parking lot below me. A little girl of about 7 sat on the curb listening to them. One of the boys who seemed a bit older was trash talking to the other two, calling them idiots and cussing up a storm.
"Okay, now we're going to race, you idiots! I don't want you pulling any of that shit again, okay?" he asked one of the two other boys.
"Shut up!" responded one of the two.
"Screw you!" shouted the trash talker. "We're going to ride to the other side of the lot and back. First one back wins!" I always wondered why someone has to input "the first one back wins." Isn't that always the case? When does the last one back win?
The little girl gets up and takes her place by the three boys on their bikes. "On your mark....get set...GO!"
The boys take off, the trash talker cussing at the other two as he flies way past them, disappears out of my sight for a bit, then comes back. I hate when the shitheads win. The other two come back looking sad and breathing heavy. The mean boy starts laughing at them, telling them they suck. I'm ready to throw my book at the little fucker when it happens.
From below me, in the breezeway of my building I hear it. Budda-Budda-Buddda. Out shoots this boy on what can only be described as the love child of a recumbent bike and a Big Wheel. I start giggling as he whips to the left and crashes into the curb, making the three boys jump out of his way.
"You think you're so cool? You think you can beat ME?" announces the mutant Big Wheel boy.
The trash talker tells him that he indeed will "kick his ass" at the race. I sigh. There is no way that faux Big Wheel is going to beat any bike. I feel bad for the kid and continue to watch, waiting for the inevitable. The rude one explains their course and the little girl once again takes her place.
"On your mark....get set...GO!"
They take off, and smack my ass and call me Katie if that mutant Big Wheel didn't shoot out ahead of them as if the kid were outrunning the po-po. Knowing this neighborhood, it's quite possible he has indeed learned to outrun them already. I see the mean kid's jaw drop and he pedals faster. All four disappear out of my view for a moment. I hear the skidding of scraped-up, plastic wheels and then BAM! The Big Wheel thingy reappears, flying through the night with all three boys trailing far behind him.
Holy shit! He won! He won! That completely surprised me, not to mention the sore loser who started cussing at him accusing him of cheating. I burst out laughing, uncontrollable laughter, as I replayed the scene in my mind. I wanted to go hug that Big Wheel kid and thank him for reminding me that looks can be deceiving. Instead, the four boys and one girl all stopped and stared at the crazy lady on her balcony, slapping the arm of her chair laughing. Then I felt stupid. I grabbed my book and hastily came back inside. And once out of my sight again, I fell on the bed laughing once more.
"Okay, now we're going to race, you idiots! I don't want you pulling any of that shit again, okay?" he asked one of the two other boys.
"Shut up!" responded one of the two.
"Screw you!" shouted the trash talker. "We're going to ride to the other side of the lot and back. First one back wins!" I always wondered why someone has to input "the first one back wins." Isn't that always the case? When does the last one back win?
The little girl gets up and takes her place by the three boys on their bikes. "On your mark....get set...GO!"
The boys take off, the trash talker cussing at the other two as he flies way past them, disappears out of my sight for a bit, then comes back. I hate when the shitheads win. The other two come back looking sad and breathing heavy. The mean boy starts laughing at them, telling them they suck. I'm ready to throw my book at the little fucker when it happens.
From below me, in the breezeway of my building I hear it. Budda-Budda-Buddda. Out shoots this boy on what can only be described as the love child of a recumbent bike and a Big Wheel. I start giggling as he whips to the left and crashes into the curb, making the three boys jump out of his way.
"You think you're so cool? You think you can beat ME?" announces the mutant Big Wheel boy.
The trash talker tells him that he indeed will "kick his ass" at the race. I sigh. There is no way that faux Big Wheel is going to beat any bike. I feel bad for the kid and continue to watch, waiting for the inevitable. The rude one explains their course and the little girl once again takes her place.
"On your mark....get set...GO!"
They take off, and smack my ass and call me Katie if that mutant Big Wheel didn't shoot out ahead of them as if the kid were outrunning the po-po. Knowing this neighborhood, it's quite possible he has indeed learned to outrun them already. I see the mean kid's jaw drop and he pedals faster. All four disappear out of my view for a moment. I hear the skidding of scraped-up, plastic wheels and then BAM! The Big Wheel thingy reappears, flying through the night with all three boys trailing far behind him.
Holy shit! He won! He won! That completely surprised me, not to mention the sore loser who started cussing at him accusing him of cheating. I burst out laughing, uncontrollable laughter, as I replayed the scene in my mind. I wanted to go hug that Big Wheel kid and thank him for reminding me that looks can be deceiving. Instead, the four boys and one girl all stopped and stared at the crazy lady on her balcony, slapping the arm of her chair laughing. Then I felt stupid. I grabbed my book and hastily came back inside. And once out of my sight again, I fell on the bed laughing once more.
