QUOTE OF THE DAY (OR MORE): "No, no. You don't understand. This is an '89 Calico. I'm pretty sure that exceeds the Kelly Blue Book value. The cat's totaled." --A comedian whose name I forget talking about a vet who presents a $3,000 bill for a 12-year-old cat

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Tardiness and Bleachers

Today I have, up for discussion, two completely unrelated items. Let's begin.

1. I don't know why it's taken me 22 years to figure this out (current age - 16 = # of years driving), but I'm a genius. Folks, ever been in your car on the way to a destination, and you're late? When you're late, you hit EVERY RED LIGHT, n'est-ce pas? Of course this has happened to you!

Now... same setting. In your car. But not late. Wanting to reply to an email on your iPhone or Blackberry or need some lipstick at the next red light. Can't get a red light to save your life, can you?

Duh... what a simple solution! The next time you're running late in your car and getting stopped frequently at red lights, simply start fumbling through your purse for a tube of lipstick to apply or start typing a reply to an email or text message during the red light. voila! No more red light. God I'm smart. Problem solved.

2. Yesterday I went to the 13-year-old's final soccer game (which they won, making their record for the year 8-0!). The game was an away game, which meant I had to schlep across town 45 minutes to an unfamiliar school's campus. I've brought Sophie to all of the home and away soccer games, because (a) generally there is an abundance of open space and grass at suburban middle school soccer fields (b) it's good for her to be social - she's extremely friendly and all the kids love her and (c) if I leave her home she eats the house. yeah. chews on the moulding. Not a good thing when one is trying to sell one's house, or really at any other time. Makes for a grumpy husband, to say the least. We now leave her in her crate if we can't take her with us during the day, and I hate to think of her cooped up for hours in a crate.

Anyway, when I arrived at the away game middle school, I noticed a distinct dearth of open space and greenery. This school had really impressive, high-rising metal bleachers towering over the soccer field instead. Sophie has no problem with stairs, so I toted her along and sat down with her in the bleachers among my fellow soccer moms and dads (of whom there was an increased presence because of its having been the last game).

Now - the above picture is not Sophie, which is fairly obvious because the owner of the pictured dog had the common sense to have the dog on a leash, while Sophie's mom does not, often.

Like the perfect dog she is (except for eating the house), Sophie snoozed on the floor of the bleachers next to me almost the entire game. She rose once to greet the husband when he arrived, then plopped back down. She did rearrange herself periodically, which prompted me to remove her leash to make it easier for her.

In the last 10 minutes or so of the game, she stood up and just casually began walking laterally down the aisle a bit. I got up to guide her back toward me but couldn't really figure out how to turn her around without (a) picking her up and turning her around (b) leading her all the way up to the top of the bleachers and back down or (c) leading her down one step to turn around and then ostensibly back up in the other direction.

I chose C.

Can you hear the loud buzzer?
As I tried to lead her down one step, she slipped, thereby causing her claws to scrape loudly against the metal bleachers, thus freaking her out completely. She went into full panic mode, scrambling on the metal bleachers, her claws deafeningly loud against the bleachers, which only made matters worse. She wanted OFF of the bleachers (from 3/4 of the way up to the top) and she wanted off NOW. I tried to contain her, but a fully panicked, full grown German Shepherd determined to leave the immediate vicinity is not easy to contain. I grabbed her, picked her up and held her as tightly as I could against my body on the bleachers as best as I could. She was violently, visibly shaking from head to toe in fear of the evil bleachers.
"Oh my gosh," the folks in the crowd (90% of whom I knew well) observed, "look at the dog shaking! "
"What a scaredy German Shepherd."
"Poor thing."
The husband, noticing the commotion, asked as I tried desperately to keep her from bolting, while half perched on a bleacher stair, teetering back and forth with her weight: "hey - do you want me to come get her?"
well, yeah.
The knight in shining armor swooped down, picked up the frenzied, hysterical, 65-pound German Shepherd, and carried her to the safety of the flat cement above. She was exhausted. She lay down immediately and cowered in the comfort of the flat non-metal land. I was horribly embarrassed.
When all had settled down and the focus had returned to the soccer game, one of my friends chided: "hey - nice hearts," which referred to my underwear which, unbeknownst to me at the time, so tactfully stuck out of my low-rise jeans while I was holding the horrified dog.
I had to wear the underwear with the hearts.
Just to preserve her canine dignity, here she is captured on video being quite ferocious. I think there's a cat passing by in the front yard or something...


  1. Ah-ha! I am actually running late this morning (probably because I'm dicking around with the computer) but I am soooo going to do that this morning!

  2. Of course, now they're talking about outlawing texting while driving. And I don't wear lipstick. Usually.

  3. SMART isn't the word for it. I need to wear a welding helmet for gazing upon this kind of brilliance.
    I'm not worthy of leaving a comment.
    But that never stopped me before.

  4. LLOL!! I love how your husband asked if you wanted him to come get her. Well, duh. :o)

  5. So, in order to get through traffic you're saying I need to become a transvestite?

    I think I can swing that.

  6. I so feel your pain. There is nothing worse than a terrified German Shepherd! I thought I was the only one that one one. My big girl, 83 pounds, is TERRIFIED of drain grates, which makes going for a walk where a grate must be crossed very difficult. Now when she sees her leash she opts to play dead.

  7. It is so interesting that you wrote about red lights. I can't tell you how many times I've thought, or said, the exact same thing. I'll be trying to get something done on my phone, and every light is green, and everyone else is polite and stays out of your way. Late = all red lights, not late = all green lights.

    Been there, done that with the heavy dog. And I can so totally relate to hubby just sitting there and watching. LOL

  8. Good observations. I can actually drive to work without encountering a single traffic light. Welcome to rural America.

    Glad you were wearing the underwear...hearts and all! ;-)

  9. LLOL! Sophie, what a crack-up!

  10. I hope this was supposed to be funny because I'm laughing like crazy at Sophie! And your hearts.

    And I discovered a similar theory to your red-light one... If you've been waiting for a repairman to arrive (as in the 4 hour window they give you...) the only thing you have to do is go and sit on the toilet. Guaranteed to work EVERY time.

  11. Poor pooch! I was shaking right there with her.

    I've used up all my red light karma and I wouldn't dream of trying to text while driving!

  12. We are all on the same page with the red light issue. I love when someone races through a light and then lo and behold you catch up with them at the next red light. Every time I need to search my car for my phone I can't get a red light to save my life. Which is an odd choice of words.

    Poor sweet dog. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I would probably push my dog down the bleachers. oh, no way, totally completely 100 percent kidding.

    baha. The underwear. Nice visual. :)

  13. Congrats on the 8-0 record! I love the low rise jeans (actually I buy "below the waiste) but I always have to wear long fitting shirts just for that reason :-)

  14. Looks like we have more in common than just pace :) Out Little Studs are age almost 4 and almost 2.. Love the first point and oh so TRUE..

    FYI I have a little Giveaway on my Blog if you can get the comments to work..

  15. I love that traffic sign, sooo hilarious and so true.


  16. Okay, once I remembered that Sophie is the name of your DOG, not your daughter, this story made a bit more sense.

    Dogs and metal bleachers are not friends. Good tip.

  17. Or son. Dammit. I get everyone confused.

  18. As a first hand eye witness to the "Sophie bleacher freak out", i must say that besides poor Sophie becoming terrified, it was HYSTERICAL. i don't know what was louder, the nails scraping or us, your good, dear friends cackling laughing at the situation. the best part, hands down, was you sitting with her massive furry body on your lap looking at hubby with the "will you help ME PLEASE" look on your face. that was priceless, and the hearts of course. lol this will go down as a great memory for our 8th grade experience.

  19. Aw, she barks so cute! I mean... uh... fee-rocious!


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