We were riding our bikes to the library, trying to get there by 11:00 when teen volunteer orientation started. (Tim said that you can't call it volunteering if you are forced to go. There is another word for that...Community Service!)
We took the path that connects our subdivision to the library. Well, it almost does. The path runs in between some houses and then leads into a field of grass that you have to go across to get to the library sidewalk. This is sort of my doing. Back when the sub was transitioning from the developer to the homeowner's association, I was on the board of directors. I wanted the developer to finish all the items on the master plan, which included this path. I called the Parks and Recreation director to find out if they would be connecting our path to the library. He said they probably would but it depended on how they used that land. But they never did.
I was following Timmy onto the grassy part when I heard Jeffrey, who was riding close behind me, call out: "Watch out for the giant hole!"
At this point I entered this out-of-body slow motion state of uber-awareness. Kind of like back at work when I would study slow motion films of crash tests, analyzing the movements that took place in each millisecond frame. Have you ever experienced this?
Here are the thoughts that ran through my mind:
My bike is sinking Oh no I hit the hole That is a huge hole I am airborne What is going to happen? I hear Jeffrey screaming "MOMMY!" He sounds so scared Poor thing has to watch his mommy fly through the air like this He has such a cute little voice Nice of him to care, I love that little guy The handlebars just smacked into my leg I am now separate from the bike I should have tightened the straps on my helmet I hope my head doesn't hit I'm flying Now I'm going towards the ground I wonder what will happen when I hit the ground I'm hitting the ground I feel my skin ripping off my legs I don't think my head hit I feel grass on my face The bike is on my feet So this is what happens
I laid there stunned until I heard Jeffrey asking if I was ok. I looked up to see my children looking worriedly down at me. I sat up and after a couple seconds told them to go on to the library and sign up for their activities. They did!
I went home and cleaned up my wounds. Ugly red scrapes and huge purple/black bruises now decorate my legs. Other than a general banged-up feeling, I am ok.
We're going to go over and do something about that hole.
When I was born my parents had that unfortunate idea to name me Melinda and call me Mindy. Since the nickname isn't as obvious as, say, Joe-for-Joseph, as a child I was stuck with the yearly explanation to my teachers about what to call me, and some general confusion whenever a sub came in and took attendance. And then of course there was my own decision early in my career to go by the more professional sounding (I hoped) "Melinda" on the job. I'm not sure how well that worked, and it again added name confusion as colleagues became friends and there were people mixing all around saying different names.
And then there was that TV show. Here I was with this somewhat uncommon name, and then out comes this goofy show with Mindy right there in the title. Of course it was wildly popular at the time, and at first I thought I might glean some coolness from the thing, such as people saying na-no na-no or shazbut to me. (I was in Junior High at that time and coolness was a priority.) But that's not how it went. For decades to come, upon learning of my name people would ask "Where's Mork?" with that "aren't I clever betcha you never heard that one before" smirk on their faces. Even this would all be fine but I never did come up with an appropriate retort. I have been left blinking stupidly after many an introduction because I just didn't have a good answer to that question.
Until now: This weekend my sister Becky presented me with my very own Mork from Ork doll. Is it cute or what? As I have mentioned before, Becky likes to go to vintage doll shows and you never know what she will come up with. One time I went with her and was able to purchase Brady Bunch paper dolls and and a Little Kiddle scented locket as her birthday gifts. Usually these items are purely nostalgic retro fun. This time, however, it is more than that. Now when someone asks me "Where's Mork" I can pull him out of my purse. Right here! ar, ar, ar!
Who would have guessed that at my age I would finally gain some new skills which most people get when they are teenagers.
The Band Boosters for the high school take turns running the concession stand at the local baseball park and since Tim will be in HS next year we were invited to sign up. The profits for the season are divided up according to how many hours you worked, and the money goes into an account for the student's future band expenses such as trips and band camp.
Even since he was very little Timmy has wanted to work at a store so he was eager for this opportunity. I liked the idea of us running our own little business together (for the night.) Timmy did really well taking orders, making change and organizing the inventory. I grilled the hot dogs, scrubbed the counters, and made sure the popcorn tasted just right by sampling it often.
It was fun to spend time doing this with my son and to see all the little kids coming to us to make their purchases. Also Jeffrey was playing in a game at an adjacent field and I could run out and watch when he was up to bat or pitching.
We're scheduled to do this again on July 10 and August 14 so if you are around Seymour Lake Park stop by and get a snack!