| Your Famous Last Words Will Be: |
 "I can pass this guy." |
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Sirens, Lights, Ticket!
Okay, before everyone starts cheering about this because, I, a well known speeder and escaper of tickets, finally got one, let me explain the inhumanity of it all. I'm not one bit repentant. Well, maybe a little. But definitely not a lot. All the other times I've been pulled over, if I HAD received a ticket, I would have nodded acceptance to my obvious guilt and taken it without a single iota of resentment. The police officers, in their graciousness, deemed me to either be
1. a learner from my mistakes
2. a nurse who should know better
3. a really sad, pathetic little girl, who needs to drive away fast before I get really annoyed with her crying
4. an offence worthy of a written warning only OR
5. to have such a good record, it would be a shame to mar it with a ticket.
Yup, I think that's all of them. But this time was different. This time I was not speeding. Technically. In my own opinion.
I was in a 55mph speed zone, I'll admit it. But I could SEE the 65mph speed sign in front of me. So I felt at liberty to increase my speed. And of course, RIGHT before I reach the 65mph sign, a police officer, just waiting for it's speeding prey, pounces like a chimpanzee on a cheeto. There was no pleasant banter, no small talk like I had grown accustomed to. It was all business. This was because he knew it was a cheap trick and wanted to get me out of there as soon as possible because he was so shamefaced. It was written in his every move. Or perhaps he just wanted to get back quickly to his same sneaky position and catch another unsuspecting bug in his venous fly trap.
I have my ticket, and I'll pay my dues, but there is no way I'll feel contrite about this one! Um...but it's made me a safer driver. And better observer for stationary squad cars.
1. a learner from my mistakes
2. a nurse who should know better
3. a really sad, pathetic little girl, who needs to drive away fast before I get really annoyed with her crying
4. an offence worthy of a written warning only OR
5. to have such a good record, it would be a shame to mar it with a ticket.
Yup, I think that's all of them. But this time was different. This time I was not speeding. Technically. In my own opinion.
I was in a 55mph speed zone, I'll admit it. But I could SEE the 65mph speed sign in front of me. So I felt at liberty to increase my speed. And of course, RIGHT before I reach the 65mph sign, a police officer, just waiting for it's speeding prey, pounces like a chimpanzee on a cheeto. There was no pleasant banter, no small talk like I had grown accustomed to. It was all business. This was because he knew it was a cheap trick and wanted to get me out of there as soon as possible because he was so shamefaced. It was written in his every move. Or perhaps he just wanted to get back quickly to his same sneaky position and catch another unsuspecting bug in his venous fly trap.
I have my ticket, and I'll pay my dues, but there is no way I'll feel contrite about this one! Um...but it's made me a safer driver. And better observer for stationary squad cars.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Return
I'm back from Mongolia.
I'm not sure how I feel about that.
People ask me how my time was, and say it must have been so much fun. But that's not how I would describe it. It had its fun moments, but it definitely wasn't fun. It had its exhilarating moments, but I wouldn't fully describe it that way either. There were time-to-go-back-to-America moments, and I-wish-I-could-stay-here-forever moments. Emotionally grueling moments, physically trying moments. God ordained, Holy Spirit filled moments.
I try to explain these things to my family, my friends, my co-workers. It's like trying to describe a sunset to a blind person. You can tell them about all the brilliant shades of colors, but unless you actually see it, unless you are actually there, you will never fully understand the immense experience of it all. But of course, that will never keep me from trying to use all my descriptive ability to impress upon my audience how two weeks can have such a lasting impact on life.
I'm not sure how I feel about that.
People ask me how my time was, and say it must have been so much fun. But that's not how I would describe it. It had its fun moments, but it definitely wasn't fun. It had its exhilarating moments, but I wouldn't fully describe it that way either. There were time-to-go-back-to-America moments, and I-wish-I-could-stay-here-forever moments. Emotionally grueling moments, physically trying moments. God ordained, Holy Spirit filled moments.
I try to explain these things to my family, my friends, my co-workers. It's like trying to describe a sunset to a blind person. You can tell them about all the brilliant shades of colors, but unless you actually see it, unless you are actually there, you will never fully understand the immense experience of it all. But of course, that will never keep me from trying to use all my descriptive ability to impress upon my audience how two weeks can have such a lasting impact on life.
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