I fought the law…

Well, I haven’t fought them yet, and when all is said and done I probably won’t be able to. I’m asking for advice/help though.

On my way back from Arkansas, about an hour after I had departed, I saw what no motorist wants to see in their rear view mirror…flashing blue and red lights (ugly colors to match up if you ask me). Anyway, I pulled over a little hoping, hoping that the smokey would pass me by in hot pursuit of the bandit who was really doing something wrong. Why ever in the world would the lights be for me?

The police car didn’t race by me, it thought I was the perp and pulled up right behind me. “Crap,” I thought, “I pulled over on a hill right in a curve. The cop’s going to cite me for wreckless endangerment to his life on top of what I’m being pulled over for.” As I’m rolling the window down *she* walks up and without any nicities says the reason she pulled me over was for speeding. All I could say was “Really?” kind of stunned like. She then tells me she got me doing 55 in a 40 (which didn’t set off alarm bells then and there but now I know better). “Oh…we’re on our way back to Alabama…” was all I could choke out. I’m sure an I’m sorry came out too. Later she handed me the ticket and I broke down in front of her. She tried to calm me down by telling me it was just a speeding ticket and to calm down before I started driving again. It didn’t work.

The reason I was speechless is because the last time I got pulled over was over seven years ago. I make it a habit to follow the speed limit and have gotten good driving right at it. It was a fluke that I was going that fast and I just happened to get caught. Totally not fair.

However unfair life is, I *was* speeding and deserve the ticket. However, what I’ve just learned from an apparently reliable source is that since it’s 15 miles over the limit and not 14 or less I’m going to get points on my license (thought that was only in the military) and my insurance company is going to find out about it.

What I’ve also learned from other sources is that officers and judges make it a habit of lowering tickets and even putting you on probation instead of charging you what you were actually speeding. All my sources either knew someone who knew someone or were able to show up in court. My case is different though because I know none of the 12 people that live in that town and it’s in Arkansas. There’s no way I can make it back for the court date to plead my case.

I’m not looking to totally get out of the ticket, although that would be a nice blessing. If there was a lesson about speeding I didn’t already know about then I’ve learned it. I’ve been punished enough just for feeling like a dirtbag who doesn’t care about laws (first-born characteristic–the rule follower). And I don’t think it’s realistic to expect them to go easy on me since this is the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression (which isn’t true, it’s the worst since Carter left and Reagan took over). Anyway.

So, what should be my plan of action? Do any of you have any experience at being big ol’ rule breakers and somehow managed to sway the police or a judge? Were you successful in doing this long distance? How would I even know who to contact to plead my case–even if it’s dropping it to 14 miles over instead of 15? I’m not wanting to get off Scot free, I just want what’s normal for people to get if/when they plead their case.

A big ol’ thanks and an air kiss or two. Oh, and I may just rename my blog featuring you if your suggestion works. Not really but I am kind of desperate. Maybe I’ll donate some money to the Flippin City Council in your honor.

Arkansas, it ain’t that bad

I am from the middle Georgia area. I had never been to Arkansas before my dad and step mom retired to northern Arkansas. At first I could not understand what the draw was. That was until the first time I came out to visit them. It’s absolutely beautiful. There are hills (the Ozarks), pastures, streams, waterfalls, wildlife, lakes, entertainment, and neighbor stories to last a whole winter. Apart from my desire to retire east of the Mississippi I’d settle here, somewhere close to civilization.

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Bull Shoals Lake
Christmas at Silver Dollar City in Branson
Christmas at Silver Dollar City in Branson
Table Rock Lake
Table Rock Lake
Eureka Springs
Eureka Springs

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Buffalo River
Buffalo River

Good times

I can’t write as long of a post as I would have liked because there is no Internet access for my computer. Reagan and I are staying the night in Branson with some good friends from where we used to live in Missouri. Amy and Beth were kind enough to make the drive down here so we could visit one more time.

We used to live two doors away from them and Reagan and Beth were the best of friends. They were at each other’s house all the time. It was in Missouri that Reagan became old enough to understand friendship. When we left she understood what it meant to leave Beth behind and she still talks about her all the time.

So we were so excited when Amy and Beth said that they would be able to meet us. I found a great deal on a condo in Branson and we began planning.

Today we met for lunch and shopped. I have finally found someone other than my mother and Heather who has the same shopping stamina as I do. And I’ve found someone with my same appetite. I didn’t know this when we actually lived near each other because our town was so small there was nowhere to shop. And between the two of us there were six kids so we didn’t go out to eat together.

So now it’s 2:00 in the a.m. and we’re still up talking. Lots to catch up on. I’m signing off now to talk some more and maybe actually get to sleep before check out time.

One more thing, if you’re ever in Branson you must eat at The Pasta Cafe. We were starving because it was 7:45 and the girls were about to mutiny if we looked at another pair of shoes. We walked in at ten till eight (they closed at eight) and asked if they’d seat us. They did. We ate some seriously good Italian food and they were more than accomodating for us. We knew we had chosen the right restaurant when we heard contemporary Christian music playing in the background. Anyway, when you come to get your geriatric entertainment fix you must eat there.

In which I admit my crack habit

…because really, I have to be on something to drive twelve hours with two kids. by. my. self. Did I mention there was no other adult? I’m just thanking God right now that Ashlyn isn’t potty training yet. I don’t know why I’m worried about that though, we stopped enough times because of my needs. My bladder is no longer what it used to be. I used to have camel bladder. You know, like Reagan has now: she can wake up in the morning and then not go to the bathroom until lunchtime. Makes you cross your legs thinking about it doesn’t it? Well, that used to be me, sort of. After two babies stretching and pressing my bladder into something akin to a shriveled balloon it no longer works like a camel’s hump. That’s a gross analogy anyway so I’m going to stop right there with it. It’s the crack talking.

Like I said, I was all alone. In the tight confines of an SUV. You’d think by looking at the outsides of those things that they’d be huge and vast on the inside. No. Three little sardines and a hundred pounds of crap luggage and necessities for a week long trip. Why are we not minimalists? And why are earplugs considered “illegal” while driving?

Here are some tidbits as if the first paragraph wasn’t enough for you:

  • We didn’t listen to a single cd. I’m surprised because who would’ve thought there’d actually be something on the radio in northern Alabama, all of Mississippi or all of Arkansas? And I don’t even have satellite radio!
  • Neither girl slept as much as I wanted them to. This means I didn’t get as much Mommy Time as I would have liked. I consider time in a vehicle to be my own personal time where I can tune into my thoughts and tune out the rest of the world, including my offspring. I have been known to say, “Mommy’s going to have quiet time now. You may talk but I’m not going to be listening and I won’t respond.” You know you’ve done it (or you’ve wanted to).
  • Ashlyn only screamed about 10% of the total amount that I thought she would. That right there, my friends, saved my sanity. And for the amount of time she was awake it’s a miracle for which I give all credit to God. Instead of screaming she liked to say, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…Mommy, Mommy…” Maybe I should have preferred the screaming, then I could have tuned it out better…
  • We passed through a town, Ravensomething, Arkansas, that still had all of its Christmas decorations up. Yes they did. Now you know every single person in that town is a redneck for the whole town to still be lit up with candy canes and snowflakes on every telephone pole. I can’t believe I forgot the name of the town.
  • I didn’t get drowsy once. Another miracle. I didn’t ever drive a stretch of road and then realize that I didn’t remember just driving it. I didn’t have to roll down the window or crank up the radio or throw water in my face or sing 99 bottles or drink a kajillion Cokes (or eleventy-two, Rachel).
  • I only drank two Cokes. Wait, three counting the one I bought. And get this: for our morning drive-through meal I ordered sweet tea instead of Coke.
  • I actually enjoyed the trip. I know, it must be the crack talking again. I love traveling and I really do enjoy driving so the actual trip wasn’t bad. It was the vibrate-y, cotton-y feeling that started to envelop me near the end that I didn’t like. I could have pulled over and stopped for the night but in northern Arkansas on my own personal roller coaster there are no hotels you just stop at. And you get uneasy feelings passing through towns like Ravenswhatever that push you to keep on going those last hundred or so miles.

Come back for tomorrow night’s post because I’ll be posting from somewhere different and will have a neat story to tell! No crack whatsoever.

Your Own…Personal…

Roller Coaster (thought I was going to say Jesus didn’t you?).

a.k.a. Get It On, Bang A Gong, Get It On

I had my very own personal three hour roller coaster ride today, which helps to  explain the gong reference. My head and my rear are both vibrating and my brain feels more like cotton than…yeah…I got nothin’. I can’t even finish that thought. I drove for over twelve hours today. There was a break in there somewhere to stop and see a children’s play, but what does my body care once I’ve stuffed it into a vibrating sardine can for half a day? The last three hours of the drive were on twisty, curvy, mountainous, rural road. And it was dark.

That’s pretty much all I can come up with right now. Cotton is not a good conductor of thoughts.

Vicki needs…

a better name obviously.

I decided to play along with a little game going around the blogosphere. I googled “Vicki needs” to see what Google says I need. Try it, except use your own name.  And be prepared to be unimpressed with people who share those letters…

Now, growing up I knew no one else with my name, especially no one who spelled it like I did. It wasn’t until college when I actually came close to another living Vicki and then it took living in Missouri to be good friends with one. Imagine my surprise when my Google search revealed two other bloggers, named Vicki, who had done the exact same thing I was doing. I’m not alone in the world after all…

And after realizing I’m not as unique as I thought I was (moment of self introspection) and feeling sorry for the person named Vicki N33ds on Linked in (hopefully this is her married name) I scrolled down to find out what I indeed need. Here’s a sampling:

Vicki needs…a family that is loving, new tires and some crack
Vicki needs…to go, to get fater (sic), to leave Jeff, to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around her
Vicki needs…a wake up call, work and guidance, you, your prayers
Vicki needs…a makeover inside and out, to make money, to stop being the man in the house
Vicki needs…a loan of 2000 soles, your vibes, more attention love and handling
Vicki needs…to grow up and face the music
Vicki needs…slapped

Yes, someone, please slap me. Who are these people that are ruining the good name that isn’t as rare as I once thought? Why didn’t I find things like:

Vicki needs to tell me how she’s so happy all the time
Vicki needs to teach me how to be a great mom
Vicki needs to travel more
Vicki needs to have more mommy time

Mom, maybe you should have named me “Aimee”. I’m going to go google that.

P.S. I tried “Vicki loves” and came up with:
Vicki loves…dental veneers, travel agents, attention, cheat codes and you. Arrggg…