The most important person in my own mind

Life has a way of knocking me off my high horse. It kicks me right off, usually only moments after I get on.

Yesterday, I was feeling pretty good about myself. A national magazine gig. I had just received an advance copy of a book from a New York publishing house to review for my story. I was feeling pretty darn important.

Now, in case you didn't know, it's January. And, just in case you weren't aware, it's often very, very cold in January. This makes my non-driving lifestyle annoying at best, and often, it puts me on the border of child neglect as the girls and I trudge home through the snow in zero degree weather, Carolyn with a head of wet hair (which of course I cover with hat(s)). Anyhow, yesterday morning was especially cold so I decided to drive Carolyn to school (for the very first time and yes I know I picked her up the other day but picking up is not the same as dropping off) on my way to the office, aka coffeehouse.

We g0t there early and I nabbd a spot right in front. I was eager to do this because I believe, in my heart of hearts, that the other moms believe I'm an unlicensed drunken driver. They have minivans. I have a nearly broken-down stroller. They perceive something to be amiss.

When I came back out, low and behold, the car won't start. Now, our car is a big gold car that used to be a cop car. It's quirky, to put it mildly. This not starting has happened before and it has weird rules, like if you get out of the car and try again, it'll start. And you usually have to wait 15 minutes. And it's more likely to start with the automatic starter.

I realize none of this makes any sense, but trust me, it's all completely true.

So not only do I have to sit in my big gold car as the early parents leave, I have to see all the late parents come and go as I sit in my big gold (very chilly) car pretending to talk on my cell phone.

And now, they all have a new reason to think I'm weird. Excellent.

The best part is, I walked home because I had bunches of work to do. Steve walked up to the car and started it right away.

Once again, I proved that while I look OK on paper (New York editors think I'm equipped to write stories for their magazine) I fail miserably at real life (moms avoid eye contact with me as we pass in the hall).

Eh... I'll take that.