Well I feel sheepish...

As I was driving around the neighborhood today, I noticed a little girl that I hadn't seen before running around alone.  When I say little, I mean under 2.  I slowed down to see if there were any adults around.  There were none in sight.  As I slowed down, she ran across the street and directly behind my car.  I couldn't see her anymore, so I put my car in park and got out.  When she saw me, she ran back to the house across the street and behind some bushes. 

I went up to the front door and could hear the vacuum running inside.  I figured the little cutie had pulled a fast one and escaped when she knew Mom couldn't hear her open the door.  Just as I knocked on the door, the mom flung it open and yelled, "LACY!"  It startled me and I startled her. 

I told the mom what had happened and that I was just worried about the kid.  The mom was apologizing profusely, saying this never happens, she had just checked on her two seconds ago, she was just in the kitchen...yada yada yada.  I assured her I completely understood, having four children of my own.  It happens, just wanted to make sure the little cutie was safe.
More apologies from her...
more reassurances from me that it could happen to anyone...
and then as if on cue, my own three year old opened the van door, bolted blindly across the street
and ran up to me...naked.

I scooped her up, smiled sheepishly and slunk back to my own house to study up on the proper care of children.

Cop Out

The Friday of Memorial Day weekend I drove into Corvallis to spend the afternoon with my friend.  I stayed longer than I planned (but actually expected) and started driving home around 11 pm.  Knowing full well that the cops are on the prowl more vigilantly this weekend than most others, I decided to drive back on a more rural highway hoping to avoid any interactions. 

Now this highway is not as busy as it's parallel counterpart to the north because it is far more windy.  (Why are windy-very curvy, and windy-blustery spelled the same?  This is very confusing.  Highway 34 is far more curvy than Highway 20, although it could also be more blustery as well...)  When you turn onto the road, there is about a four mile stretch that is straight before you hit the switchback turns.  There was one car in front of me with Washington plates, driving 5 under the speed limit.  I figured, if he's driving like this when the road is straight, he'll be crawling through the curves.  I needed to get home, I was scheduled for a ten hour shift the next day!

This was my one and only opportunity to pass before Washington doubled my drive time.  I went for it.  Two seconds later another car passed him as well.  Two seconds after that, red and blue lights were flashing in my rear view mirror.  I pulled over, cursing silently, and rolled down my window.  The officer came up to the window and forcefully spewed out, "You were swerving all over the road!  What's the rush?  Why did you pass the car in front of you when they were going exactly the speed limit?"  I was a little taken aback and responded with a "deer in the headlights" stare.  Then he asked for my license and registration.  Let me insert here that we still don't have license plates on our car (yes it's been two months since we bought it) and I had just been grocery shopping so I had bags all over the front seat.  I couldn't find my wallet.  I didn't know how to open the glove box.  Twenty minutes later, (it felt like it with a mean man and a flashlight staring down my back)  I handed him my license and registration.  He handed me back the registration with a dead pan, "This expired in 2010."  Rrrrright.  I dug a little deeper and found the correct registration...still in a sealed envelope.

He took them and went back to his car.  10 seconds later he was back at my window.  He handed me back my documents and said, "I thought you were drunk.  Don't swerve and don't speed.  Have a nice night."  Deer-in-the-headlight stare again.  He walked away.  I put my stuff away and pulled back onto the highway.  He followed.  I purposely drove 5 under the speed limit.  He followed.  After twenty minutes I pulled over again and pretended to look for something so he would pass me.  He did, finally.  I drove like the idiot from Washington the rest of the way home.