Posts Tagged driving

Nashville For Dummies

Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Guest Post, Humor, Relationships on January 13, 2009

Who Also Happen To Be Lovestruck, Underage, and Extremely Gullible

So, Lotus clearly hates you and wants you to be miserable, and I know this because she asked me* to guest post for her. I only agreed because I actually have some valuable information to share with you, her devoted readers. You see, I remembered that there is some blog get-together thingy going on in Nashville in February, and I realized that many of you dear Sarcastic Mom readers will probably be going to that, if for no other reason than to get a view of The Rack close up. Something you don’t know is that I am The World’s Leading Authority on visiting Nashville.

Because I did.

Once.

So naturally, I am more than obliged to provide you all my expert advice on navigating through Lotus’ hometown and getting yourself good and married in 17 easy steps. Prepare to be dazzled.

Fall head over heels in love with your bald, fat, 9 years older than you restaurant manager before you even come close to your twenties.

Let him take wild advantage of you, your car, your ability to both drive legally and go more than 17.39 seconds without snorting anything up your nose.

Hunt him down over the course of 18 months after he takes off from Denver to Nashville with little more than a “So long and thanks for all the fish” mumbled in your general direction one day.

Drive 23 hours straight through the pouring rain to spend two long, glorious weeks winning him back. In Nashville. That’s the key to this whole thing working.

Get to his apartment after getting totally turned around trying to go straight through on the 65 only to end up on some horrible, middle of the night, lost and alone goosechase that lands you on the 40, which is weird only because the 65 and the 40 don’t exactly hit each other even remotely closely to where you wanted to be in the first place.

After finally arriving, have the most awkward make up sex the world has ever known, or ever will know, and watch as he over the span of four hours goes from professing his undying love and suggesting marriage to forgetting you ever existed in the first place. Make sure this happens within your first 24 hours there, so you’re certain to have 13 more days to be stuck waiting for your next paycheck to be deposited so you can get the hell out of there already.

Get fed up 10 days into your 14 day stay because you’ve been stuck in his apartment with his roommate that you don’t even know, you’ve read all your books, and it’s still raining all around you. Realize you are a rain god.

Get into your car and drive. ANYWHERE. End up dead smack in the middle of downtown Nashville, totally on accident. Park and walk. ANYWHERE. Check out Vanderbilt. Follow the river for a ways and end up in some back alley bar with a fabulous live band and a fabulous random guy more than willing to buy you drinks all night.

Get said guy’s number.

Call said guy in front of dipshit ex-boss.

Get taken out by jealous ex-boss to a company function, get introduced as “the bff” and later that night get asked to move to Nashville with him. WITH him.

Drive 23 hours back to Denver, straight, and start packing your life up. If you survive the Kansas stretch.

Get a call at work two weeks later from the man you’re planning to spend the rest of your life with saying he’s just met the woman he plans to spend the rest of his life with.

Die.

Get the hot guy at work shit-faced drunk and nail him in your car to make it all go away.

Marry hot guy from work.

Thank god for small favours. And Jack Daniels.

*Me would be Mr Lady, which is of absolutely no relevance whatsoever to the post.
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mrladyMr. Lady is an amazing writer, a hell of a strong woman, and a damn sexy broad. She authors Whiskey In My Sippy Cup. Not being subscribed to her website is like waking up in the morning and finding out someone has removed both of your lungs. (Have you ever woken up dead? Don’t start tomorrow… visit her today.)

Besides.  There’s a half-naked photo of her on her sidebar, for crying out loud! Go.Now.

PS: She asked me not to blurb her because it makes her uncomfortable, but I like it when hot chicks squirm.

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A slice of being, time-travel style.

Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Aging, Haiku, Poetry on August 21, 2008


Quick run to the store
after dark. Moon-roof open.
Windows down, driving.

Alone, I glance back.
Car-seat is empty. Not one
passenger. Alone.

The night is pulsing.
Lights fly by; I slice through them.
I lick my lips, drive.

Maybe a little
too fast? Wind licks the side of
my face, hair swirling.

Fingers tapping the
wheel. Foot tapping the floorboards.
Body keeps rhythm…

Loud music playing.
Perhaps, a little too loud?
Feeling young. Alive.

My eyes flash to the
rearview. My high school self looks
back at me, grinning.

Just for a moment.
Then she vanishes. But I
am left with her smile.

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Just for a moment.

Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Uncategorized on January 10, 2008

Sometimes you have to give in.  Sometimes you have to reach out.  Sometimes?  You have to do something just because your soul said, “Please, can we do this?”

Yesterday, we drove south for over an hour, on a whim, with a 15 month old in the back seat, just to look at something.  Just to touch it for a few minutes.  It was a Colonial home that was built circa 1900, on 10 acres.  We drove south for over an hour, with baby snacks and juice and diapers and songs like “ABC” and “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” because it’s for sale, and my heart ached to see it in person.  Ached to stand on that old front porch. 

John humors me like that because he loves me.

I was so at home standing next to the bubbling creek on the property… looking out over the rolling hills into the blue sky… with nothing commercial for miles and miles and miles.  Just trees, bare of leaves.  For now.  But my mind’s eye could see their summer coats of shiny, green leaves, waving in the breeze. 

Grass under my feet… I could imagine the stark contrast of the white stars against the black night sky that would happen on that spot in hours time.  If I closed my eyes, I could see the garden I would plant on the acreage.  I could hear my son playing and splashing in the pond, with a big dog that we’d have. 

I wonder if John could hear the creak of the tire swing hanging from the tree in the front yard?  Or see me sitting under the shade of the magnolia tree around back, reading a book, as the tree burst with fragrant white blossoms over my head.  Maybe he could hear the birds singing, like I could.  Maybe he was lost in that moment, too?

I guess sometimes you have to let your heart dream so hard that you let it drag you for miles and miles just to touch something with your own hands, just for a moment, even if it means your dream will fall and break at your feet.

We decided that it’s just too far away from the town we need to be close to.   

So we drove all the way home again. 

Between the Colonial and our (rented) home we talked about desire and life and money and old age.  We touched on needs and hopes and the dreaded Practicality and Responsibility. 

We breathed in life, we breathed out patience.

Braden screamed and fussed… he laughed, sang, and talked.  He bucked, thrashed and complained, and at one point, he peed all over me. 

Then we drove the rest of the way home, and I had cold piss all over the side of my shirt. 

But I was happy.

When we got home, Braden ran all over the living room wearing nothing but a shirt and socks, laughing and screaming. 

With stars in our eyes, we watched him run to the curtains and twirl himself up in them over and over again, giggling madly as he fell to the floor, then jumping up to do it all over again.

We breathed in life, we breathed out love.  And it felt just right.

It was a great day.

While Riding By

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