Skills of Observation

I was recently introduced to the show Monk just in time to watch its season finale.  In the few episodes I enjoyed before the show ended forever, I had time to develop sympathy for Monk and his idiosyncrasies.  I was talking to my brother about this saying,
"I loved Mr. Monk.  I identified with him.  In fact, I'm kind of thinking I would make a good detective because I'm super uptight and I notice everything.  And I'm even afraid of germs."
The next day I was hanging out with my family when I came across a picture of my brother-in-law.  I looked closer and noticed he was sporting a beard.  I said, "When did he grow this?"
They replied, "Jenny, he's had a beard ever since we've known him."
I said, "Oh,"  and decided not to become a detective.

I Looked out the Window...

So I'm happily driving down the road, belting out my favorite primary song (having to do with popcorn and apricot trees) when Andrew interrupts me with a question:
"Mom, what are all those signs for on the side of the road?"
Me: "Oh they're all for different reasons, but some have numbers on them to tell you how fast you should be going. On that sign we just passed, the number says '50'. So I should be going that speed".
I look at my speedometer: 60.
Oops.
Before I can slow down, I notice I'm passing a cop who immediately follows me with lights flashing.
"See, Andrew, now mommy is getting pulled over by a cop. This is what happens when we don't follow the signs on the side of the road."
When the officer comes to my window he asks one of the inane questions cops are so fond of:
Cop: "Is there a legal reason for you to be speeding?"
A legal reason for speeding? I couldn't quite remember covering that unit in driver's ed. (Ummm...I'm having a baby right now?......I'm a cop too, I just forgot my car with flashing lights?...I work for UDOT as a certified speed-tester...in my unmarked car...with a small child...)

At least I didn't take the cop seriously like I did once when I was 18 (when I must have been a bit more blonde). I was rushing to work and when I got pulled over I was baffled by the cop's question. 
Cop: "Where's the fire young lady?"
Me: "Ummm....I don't know where the fire is. Don't you know? Maybe you can find out on your radio?"
Surprisingly enough I didn't get a ticket after the dumb blonde scenario, but I unfortunately did get one today.

Oh well, I guess I can just chalk this one up as an important lesson for Andrew where he learned
a) What those signs are really for on the side of the road
b) You should never sing primary songs while driving (especially when they require hand gestures)
c) Even though cops ask silly questions, they expect you to keep a straight face when answering

Christmas Puddles

The other day Megan and I were invited to a mother/daughter cookie exchange. Since I have no homemaking abilities I begged Alicia, the resident guru of goodies, to help Megan make no-bake cookies.
The girls had just finished scooping the last pile of oatmeal goodness onto the tray when it was time to go. As we rushed out the door, I noticed that the cookies were so hot, they were melting into flat little brown puddles. In desperation, I opened the car window and held the pan out in the cold air while we drove in order to dam up the puddling. It didn't work.
I tried to hide our sorry contribution as we walked into the multi-million dollar house where the exchange was being held. We were shown into the breakfast nook, surrounded by more windows than we have in our whole house. The table was filled with cutesy plates piled with stacks of fudge, sprinkled cookies, and fancy desserts. We pushed them to the side so there would be room for our wax-papered cookie sheets spotted with watery piles of oatmeal. Then we hurriedly left the evidence behind and joined the group as if nothing were amiss.
The time for exchanging was announced and, with a pounding heart and red face, I asked for a spatula to scoop our soggy piles. The girls circled the table helping themselves to the the stacks of tasty treats then they waited while I slopped three brown puddles onto the tissue paper at the bottoms of their cookie boxes.

2 Musicals and 1 Tricksy Green Coat

We were walking through the streets of Jackson Hole when one of the kids saw a sign about a re-showing of Oklahoma and Singin' in the Rain. I started on a rampage about musicals:
"I hate Oklahoma! I love Singin' in the Rain. It's really cute, but..."
My husband suddenly stopped at a store window, so I stood right by him and kept talking.
"...but Oklahoma is just not that great. I mean it gets downright creepy in parts and the ballet scene is like two lifetimes long, and..."
Rex turned to look at me (mid rampage) and I saw that he wasn't Rex. In fact, he was someone else altogether. (What was he doing with the same green coat, brown hair, and build as Rex?) I mumbled apologies as we hurried in our separate directions.
I'm sure he wondered why this lady was so insistent upon explaining her views to him about musicals. While I, on the other hand, would like to know why someone would walk around posing as my husband!

Hypochondria

Every night I snuggle under my covers and then do a little light reading from a book full of disease descriptions. I discover a few new terminal illnesses I might be plagued with, and then go to bed satisfied.
One suggestion this book gave for some ailment was to get a hair analysis done to test past exposure to lead. That's the sort of thing that really perks up a hypochondriac so at my next doctor's appointment, I asked for one.

Me: While I'm here could I get a hair analysis to check for lead poisoning?

Dr: I have never ordered a hair analysis.

Me: Do you want to be adventurous and try it today?

Dr: Why do you want one?

Me: Because I'm a hypochondriac.

Dr: This kind of thing needs to be handled by your primary care physician.

Me: I don't have a primary care physician

Dr: You mean, you're a hypochondriac without a primary care physician?

Me: Yes.

Dr: That's not good.

Me: I know. I prefer to just sit at home and worry.

Dr: Oh I see. Well, hair samples are actually only done in autopsies.

Me: Oh.

Dr: But, I promise to have one requested after you're dead.

Me: thanks