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How to Get Out of a Speeding Ticket

29 Nov

You may think from the title that this is about me, but it’s not.

Last time I got pulled over for speeding, I was immediately ticketed. I think it has something to do with wearing my emotions on my sleeve. I’m the worst liar in the world, and I’m sure the officer could see what I was truly thinking written all over my face:

“Listen, asshat. You and I both know I was going 57 in a 55 and the second I crossed into the construction zone (with zero workers present, might I add!) you clocked me because the speed limit changed to 45. You were waiting for me and I know it. I don’t want to talk about it, I refuse to plead with you, just give me the ticket.”

I would never actually say that, but I don’t need to. If you have any sense of perception, it’s obvious.

I would like you to know I successfully completed the Online Remedial Driver’s Ed course, intended for persons like myself who are generally safe drivers with no points on their license, but who earn themselves a ticket. I was far less worried about the fine than I was about points on my license and the subsequent insurance hike.

Earning 100% on all of the quizzes and the final exam got me out of points and a letter to my insurance company, as well as gifted me with a refrigerator-worthy certificate to mark my accomplishments.

(Note to those who fall in these same shoes – you are REQUIRED to take 45 minutes to read through something that takes no more than 10. And if you don’t stay active within the required reading for all 45 minutes, you’ll get logged out and have to start over! Joy.)

Anyways, let’s talk about someone who can get themselves out of a speeding ticket.

My husband.

Kyle has been pulled over three times since we started dating. Zero tickets.

The latest incident occurred this past weekend. We were in Northern Michigan for the holiday, visiting a friend’s family. We had just departed his place for the Bed & Breakfast we booked in Charlevoix. Kyle gets pulled over for going 71 in a 55.

Sixteen mph over the posted speed limit! This is how you get out of a speeding ticket:

Drive your wife’s car that is SO disorganized, she is literally rifling through 20 expired proofs of insurance in an effort to locate the current one. I could actually feel Kyle’s blood pressure rising, because his current proof of insurance and registration are neatly located in a little envelope in his glove box. I’m all, “So sorry, Officer! For some reason I have, like, five that expired in July! I’m sure I have a current one, just give me a minute here…”

Have a crying child in the back. In the hustle and bustle of getting pulled over and wanting to present ourselves well, Aidan was instructed to “sit still and shut up” by my mother. I should note that my mother has NEVER told Aidan to “shut up” and she said so in the nicest tone. The same tone you would gently inform someone to be quiet. But Aidan was so horrified at hearing that come out of her mouth, he literally burst into tears and let the waterworks roll in the back seat.

Even though she influenced the Aidan tears, have your mother-in-law, who is sweet and charming , in the back smiling at the officer.

Don’t make excuses and just own up to the speeding.

Evidently that is the recipe for not even getting a warning for going 16 over. I’m pretty sure the officer recognized the hot mess in the car and thought, looks like this dude has enough going on here – no need to make his day any worse!

I’ll have to work on my approach. (Or, you know, just not speed.)

Wedding Night Attire

25 Jul

I’ve shared lots of lovely details from our wedding, and there’s plenty to more to come. But there were certainly details that weren’t perfect. Let’s shift and talk about that one time I ended up on the street, in a robe, on my wedding night.

We closed down our party with a fireworks show, courtesy of illegal Indiana fireworks trucked up by my brother-in-laws. Everyone departed, and we left for our hotel.

Kyle booked us a Master Suite at our local boutique hotel, which was sweet. The room was spacious, the hot tub enviable, the bed like floating clouds and you could turn the sound from the tv on in the enormous bathroom. I rather enjoyed listening to Wimbledon during my shower the next morning. All the elements added up to a memorable stay.

EXCEPT. The most memorable thing about it was not what you hope for on your wedding night.

We finally crashed just after 2 am. Around 7:30 am we awoke to the persistent shriek of the fire alarm. We tossed and turned, pulled pillows over our heads and then mumbled things like:

“Is this for real?”

“What the hell?”

“Ugh, what if it really is a fire? We better get out of here.”

Now here’s the part where we realize my planning has an end point. Because plan I did for the wedding. Post wedding? Not really on those details.

My two options for hauling my bride self out to the curb were my wedding dress or the hotel-owned robe hanging in the closet.

It was like the twilight zone. Here I am, hanging out ON THE STREET IN A ROBE with my brand new husband, and 100 of our closest hotel friends.

Finally the fire trucks show up, race inside, deem it a false alarm and we go back into our room to throw our exhausted bodies on the bed and drift into dream land. The flippin’ thing goes off again around 9:30. This time we were just plain angry. Kyle calls the front desk and barks something about another false alarm and we get the go ahead to fall back asleep.

Except I can’t. The sleeping is shot.

After a bit of persuasive arguing, I’m happy to report Kyle got the hotel to refund the entire bill. And I suppose on the bright side, I’ll never forget our wedding night! Shame my most vivid visual is my french-tipped toenails poking out from a roomy white cover up while watching people from our community head to JP’s for their morning coffee…

Typical Dinner Table Conversation

18 May

Setting: Dinner table at my Mom’s with Kyle, A and me. Our family rode our bikes to her house, in honor of Green Commute Week, and my lovely mother made us dinner .

Me: This fish is delicious

Aidan: Well, at least it’s not black beans. Kyle loves black beans, but they give him gas.

Me: Ha! You’re so right, Aidan.

Aidan: What are you talking about, Mom? You have the worst smelling farts in the whole family.

Kyle and my Mom: *hysterical laughter*

I have to give credit to his delivery. I think there’s a hint of class clown in our boy…

Inappropriate Words to Yell at a Bagel Shop

13 Mar

Sometimes my life isn’t interesting enough to spur a blog post topic.  Sometimes it’s fascinating but not particularly blog appropriate.

And then there’s Aidan.  Hilarious, fun and decidedly blog worthy.  Today’s episode might be pushing it on the appropriate part.

So we’re at a local bagel shop enjoying pre-church breakfast and coffee.  Two police officers walk in.  Aidan is visibly excited and waves hello.  Around here, police officers often carry stickers in their shirt pocket, to have on hand for little ones like A.  It’s a good move, I think, because at age six Aidan definitely has a very positive connotation associated with those in uniform.  He gets up and walks over.

“Excuse me, Officer?”

(Two points for politeness, Aidan!)

Alas, they were out of stickers, but A just returned to his seat and we began to play one of a dozen games we play to occupy his attention whilst in a restaurant.  The rhyming game is pretty self-explanatory, and as his vocabulary expands he enjoys it more.

“Aidan, what rhymes with pool?”

“Uh, tool, cool, fool…”

“Aidan, what rhymes with pick?”

Kyle immediately shoots me a look.  The kind of look you give your server when you watch them spill Coke on you in slow motion.  You recognize it’s coming, then all of a sudden you’re soaked.

Aidan’s getting into the rhyming and his voice is escalating.

“Sick, tick, DICK!”

My son just yelled “dick.”  In a bagel shop.  On Sunday morning.  About 20 seconds after a police officer told him he didn’t have a sticker for him.

Keeping it classy around here, I tell you what. 

Note to self: Do not ask Aidan what rhymes with duck.

Home Depot Drama

28 Feb

My brother-in-law tried to warn him.  About Rose girls, that is.  We’re…occasionally a bit too ambitious about what we can get done in a day.  And at times we think something is possible—we insist something is possible—when it straight up is not.

Enter a Saturday trip to Home Depot. (So domestic!)  We’re on a mission for a rug or large piece of carpet, because we’ve turned the basement into a livable space.  The walls remain cinder block, though we plan to paint, and we’re all set up with the awesome furniture Kyle brought over and a TV with the Kinect hook-up.

Our Home Depot happens to be going out of business, so we arrive with loads of other people looking for a home improvement deal.  We spot the perfect piece of tan, flecked carpeting among cabinetry and sinks.  It’s on a cart with wheels, so Kyle pushes that.  He’s already sold his left kidney to somehow snag a “car cart” for Aidan, who is perched up and “driving.”

I walk away for a moment to check another item out; Kyle is right next to Aidan.

“MOM!” Aidan bellows.  “You can’t just walk away and leave me!  Look, the seatbelt even says so!” he yells, waving his proof.

Mother of the year.  As usual.

Moving on.  So we have this big-ass piece of carpet and a Camry.  We’re talking 12 feet long.  And Kyle’s all, “Uh, this isn’t going to fit.”  And I’m all brightly contradictory, “Yes it will! We’ll just lay down half the back seat, shove it through and I’ll hold the end up front on my lap!”

Mmm-hmm.

Now, in mutual defense, they weren’t doing deliveries, there was no layaway and we had phoned several friends.  We couldn’t just leave our prize piece with the hoards of people scouring for a deal.  I wanted the carpet!

We make our purchase and head outside.

Ahahahaha.  SO not going to fit.  Not a chance.  This was discovered in approximately 15 seconds.

But there’s this nice-looking couple next to us.  With a big truck.  And we have to get the carpet home because we own it and we can’t take it back.

So yes we do.  We ask some strangers to “swing by” our house on their way home.  They are totally lovely and will accept neither beer nor money; they simply instruct us to pay it forward.  We definitely will!

Once the basement is painted, I’ll post pictures.  I also really can’t wait to hear this version of the story as told to my brother-in-law from Kyle.

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