My usual low level of frustration has been tested this week. Anyone who has an adult child with disabilities can understand fully the parenting that goes beyond the age of eighteen. Steven, my wildly impulsive, curly haired son, who was born addicted to heroin and cocaine to a mom with severe mental health issues, has a brain that does not function quite right, especially in the responsibility and common sense areas. His highly valued license was suspended last year for failure to pay for a ticket. After many prompts, in January I led him to the Licensing Board to pay the fine. He then had to take this paper to the DMV to get his license reinstated. He went at least eight times, both when I took him and when he ventured into the crowds himself alone. The fact is, he does not have the ability to sit still or wait for more than 10 minutes before getting agitated, so he had been unable to get his license back. The DMV has wonderful accommodations for individuals with physical disabilities, but wouldn’t it be great if there were a quicker line for those with severe attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. The only incentive for Steven to delve back into the commotion of DMV came when a police officer pulled him over and dispensed a ticket for driving without a license. Off he went back there, late in the day, to get his license. (He was quite excited that he only had to wait 30 minutes, but because the facility was closing shortly, the workers were all working at warp speed to be able to get out of work on time.) The most frustrating news came in the mail today; a notice that his license is suspended again because he did not pay the most recent ticket…
My son, Angel, seems to be a very good driver, although he is quite fussy about needing to have his car in perfect working and cosmetic shape. Two years ago, he had borrowed my car and, when stopped at a red light, was hit so hard from the back that he was accordianed right into the car in front of him. His injuries were mostly mental, with our insurance having to pay for the damage to the car in front of him, (is THAT fair?) along with the newly instilled fear that he could be killed at any time. My injury was that the insurance only paid for a fraction of what we had paid for this older car, certainly not enough to purchase a reliable car again. It was so frustrating trying to make the best purchase for a minimal amount of money!
About a year later, when he again borrowed my elderly car, the engine literally blew up on him. Again, not his fault. Again, insurance paid a fraction of what we had paid for the car. We searched and searched and found a very old, one owner who only drove it to the church, mint condition car with all of the bells and whistles. (Heated seats! Sunroof! Stereo surround sound!) It was a miracle to be able to purchase such an awesome car for the amount of money we had, and I had truly enjoyed driving it. I say “had enjoyed” because this car, also, has become one of Angel’s victims. This week, while turning with a green light, another car ran a red light and “T-boned” him. He does have some injuries, especially emotional due to this most recent brush with death. My injury is the loss of this “perfect for the money” dream car, the third one in three years. My driveway is again empty.
So last night, trying to squelch my frustration, hubby and I had wine with dinner. I’m not a big drinker, but somehow the occasion called for it. Sitting back sipping it daintily, the ice chips tinkled on my lips. Half of the glass was gone before I noticed an odd, greasy taste. Looking at the ice, what looked like blobs of butter clung to them. Butter? How could that have happened? Hubby’s eyes shot open wide and he ran to the freezer. Because we had corn on the cob the night before, he had put the butter in the freezer, a technique to keep the butter from melting while putting it on the cob. Unfortunately, he had left the butter in the ice tray where it sunk to the bottom of the ice and was ground up to make the greasy ice chips in my wine. I sighed; couldn’t make this stuff up!
Comments on: "Try a Sip of Greasy Wine" (11)
There are some days where only an active sense of humor will do! Cheers!
Here in Israel, the disabled and elderly can get a permit that allows you to cut to the front of the line in any government office! It doesn’t matter if you’re in a wheelchair, or just impulsive, they really don’t want you waiting around disturbing others, so they get you in and out FAST. Otherwise, you take a number and bring a good book (or two).
love that idea!
Buttered Wine. You might start a new fad.
Dying! Just dying. I shouldn’t be laughing, but it’s either that or cry. I so feel for you.
Oh dear. Like I was just saying to a friend the other day … some days you are the pigeon, and some days you are the statue. Let’s hope tomorrow is a brand new dawn.
Sometimes, buttered wine is a perfect pairing for a series of mishaps.
Well it did slide down pretty easily!
I am really trying to figure out what this would taste like. Not one good possibility comes to mind. Thank you for another glimpse into your fascinating and admirable life.
Sorry your wine greasy (from one who understands forgetting I put something in the freezer – decades ago – I cleaned freezer up from exploded beer bottles, I forgot I put in to ‘quick chill’ for late arriving guests, and thirsty, crowd who arrived early/on time) – LOL
As for insurance, DMV lines, accommodations for citizens who do their level best to live legally, but sometimes struggle, with doing so, on schedule/form demanded (for a variety of reasons), etc., I can empathize – sort of….
So, just to share, I’m ole fart – I recently renewed my license after 10 years of clean driving record, blowing past such anniversaries – LOL –
Imagine my surprise to be instructed to “Look at black circle, maintain neutral expression, do not smile…Good!”
Suffice to say, my updated DL pic can also double for a most wanted picture of a stone, cold, don’t care, criminal entity – Perhaps this is ‘streamlining at it’s finest’, perhaps it’s a quick sand trap – I haven’t quite made up my mind, yet, BUT – –
DURN! How time flies, when you’re growing old, and seriously, I now have to look like I don’t care, ‘officially’? For 5 more years? Unless, of course, I manage to lose my DL and/or get it stolen – maybe, it will change and I can once more smile for posterities sake – – LOL
I was lucky a few years ago to have a great license photo in which I am smiling, and they still let me use it. the truth is, if I was pulled over Id really look like the photo you described!