Just when I thought life couldn't get any better, along comes an email from my adorable youngest daughter, Anna. (Keep in mind she's our newlywed.) The email wasn't very long, and I can't remember much of what was in it except the P. S., which said: We found a ton of candles at Goodwill so we've been keeping the lights off. It's so romantic!!
I'm all for thrift, but this romance stuff makes me think the apartment's in danger of burning down. Let's hope not!
http://www.pinkpeppers.com/. If you haven't seen this blog, co-authored with her four sisters and mother, you MUST get on over there right away. Caitlin's post entitled, "Laura Ingall's Laundry Soap" is a hoot, and who knows? You too might even be inspired to make "the slimy stuff" (her words)!
All kidding aside, I had to save the best for last, so this recent episode in the Ongoing Saga of the Hostetter's takes the cake on frugality. Rahn stomped through the door this evening saying, "Can you believe it? My license has been suspended!" I'm thinking: Yes, I can believe it. I had a feeling this might be coming, after the last speeding ticket late this summer, but I had completely forgotten about it.
That's right, as of tomorrow Rahn will not be a designated driver for 30--count 'em--30 days. Evidently, after receiving the letter suspending him, my always assertive DH immediately marched off to our local DMV to see what they could do to fix it. Here's what they said: "Nothing! You've got five speeding tickets in the last three years!"
"Soooo! That's not so bad," Rahn said, looking all innocence.
"So? Look at these tickets, Mr. Hostetter," the lady said flashing them in his face.
While relating this sad tale of woe to me, Rahn could only remember the details of three of the five tickets, but I did gather he had one ticket where he was doing 52 mph in 45 mph zone (in his words, "his best one"), 67 mph in a 50 mph zone and a failure to yield to a stop light. The last one he confided he remembered well. Evidently, it occurred in Portland where he ran the stop light, wondering why--at the same moment--he saw a flash of light. That mystery was solved when he received the ticket in the mail, along with a picture of himself attached, looking dazed and confused!
Obviously, he lost the battle at DMV and on November 11th he turns into a pumpkin.
"So, long story short, you'll have to take me to work tomorrow," he said, casually.
I responded slowly. In a nano second I blurted out: "NO WAY am I doing that for the next 30 days!"
"Don't worry, I already figured that out."
Apparently, he's enlisted the help of our ranch foreman, Todd, who agreed to take him to and from work--since he knew where my sympathies would lie. After all, how many times had I told him it was a sin to speed? (Not that I ever sped!)
HA! I could see Rahn now slogging uphill through three foot drifts on Elk Mountain Raod trying to get to work, and I said so.
"Okay, well maybe that isn't realistic, but if I had one parked at the office, I could at least run errands around town. I could also see that now--a huge pile of dry cleaning strapped to the back of the bike with a ragged trail of shirts and pants littering the street behind him, clueless as he peddled furiously for our local dry cleaning spot.
In all seriousness, as of this writing, no truly brilliant plan as emerged, but one thing's for sure--in this family you better have a sense of humor and not take yourself too seriously. Because, who knows? Maybe after teasing him so mercilessly, I'll get pay back. In the meantime, if you see Rahn walking around town, have a heart and give him a lift.