Dear Kid,

The second meanest thing you can say to someone is “May you have adventurous travels.” The meanest thing you can say to someone is “May you have unplanned adventure in your travels. And be fed kale.”

Driving 609 miles should be long, boring, and uneventful. Our trip home was long. Not so much on boring and uneventful.

First we had the joy of the whiney Puppy. Not sure if he whines because he’s happy to be in the car or because he’s stressed. Either way, not enjoyable. It only took an hour and a half for him to settle down.

Then there was the weather. “Not to worry,” said your father, “We won’t have any rain on our drive home.” This was correct except for being entirely wrong. Mid-rainstorm, Dad revised his forecast. “We won’t encounter any snow this trip.” Brilliant.

Also during the rainstorm (just to keep things interesting), a bunch of dashboard lights went on. FACT: Lights are lovely on a Christmas tree. Not on a dashboard.

About half an hour later, Dad said, “You know there are lights on the dashboard.”

“Mmmm,” I replied, “I’m hoping they reset when we turn off the car.”

For the record, auto mechanics love me; especially if they have bills to pay.

“What do those particular lights mean?” asked Dad.

“How should I know?” I answered. “My job is to drive this thing. Besides, they can’t be bad; the car’s only 3 ½ years old.”

Faultless logic, no?

Dad opened the car’s manual and began reading:

If this light illuminates while driving, never brake suddenly and keep driving straight ahead while gradually reducing speed. Then slowly pull off the road to a safe place. Otherwise an accident involving serious vehicle damage and serious personal injury could occur. If this light still illuminates while driving after adjusting the tire pressure, a tire may have significant damage and a fast leak that causes the tire to lose air rapidly.

“Wait, I have a flat tire?”

“It didn’t say ‘flat tire’. It said ‘a tire may have significant damage and a fast leak.’”

“That sounds like ‘flat tire’ to me. But it’s not riding like there’s a flat tire.”

Pause.

“Never mind,” said Dad. “I read the wrong thing.”

Oh good.

More reading.

Dad determined that the ABS braking system wasn’t working. He figured this out because one of the little lights said “ABS”.

“So what does that mean?” I asked.

Dad explained, “The computer won’t help you stop. You’re on old fashioned braking.”

“So I can keep driving?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Because that was my plan.” And I did.

Slightly east of Buffalo, we stopped to fill the car’s tank, empty ours, and switch drivers. Dad took over the wheel…and the car refused, absolutely REFUSED, to shift out of Park.

For the record, you can’t actually drive the car when it’s in park.

Dad turned off the engine, turned it back on, and tried again. Rinse and repeat. Nothing changed.

We called the Subaru Service Department. Dad and ChrisTheServiceDude had a lovely conversation. We tried this and that at his suggestion. Then he told Dad to really, really, really press hard on the brake pedal and that let us shift. Then he told us NOT to shift into park No. Matter. What.

Amazingly, that’s not the end of the story. Part II tomorrow.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

A few days ago I was sent a text. I replied about 15 minutes after I got it. Later, the sender said to me, “What’s the point of having a cell phone if you don’t have it with you all the time?”

I showed great restraint and said absolutely nothing.

It wasn’t easy.

What I wanted to say was, “What’s the point of being human if you’re plugged into your phone 24 hours a day?”

Communication in our day and age is wonderful. We get to talk and text with people near and far. We get to see pictures of newborns (Congrats, L). We get to find out good and bad news practically as soon as it happens.

But taking time to unplug is important too. The Puppy is unimpressed with cell phones. The flowers couldn’t care less about the latest box scores. The rabbit is far more concerned about finding clover than about what’s hot on Twitter. The squirrels are too busy plotting their next attack to contemplate anything.

Don’t get me wrong. I love being connected and I love hearing from you (you should feel free to call your mother any time). But I don’t think it’s unreasonable to reply to a text 15 minutes after it’s sent (at least most of the time). And I think Mother Nature has a good idea about putting the tech away every now and then.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I’m so excited! A recorded voice just called to tell me that I’ve been selected to receive a free cruise to the Bahamas!

I’m so excited! A recorded voice just called to tell me that I’ve been selected to receive a free cruise to the Bahamas!

It will stun you to know that I hung up before finding out what “free” actually means in this case. I’m sure it doesn’t mean “free” in the sense the dictionary might suggest.

“Mother,” I hear you say, “Why, Darling Mother, in this time of spam callers and election lobbyists, did you answer the phone when there was a number you didn’t recognize? You didn’t recognize the number, did you?”

No. I didn’t recognize the number. Recorded voices (and unrecorded people who insist on calling about things I’m not interested in) have gotten smarter. They now call on numbers that have local area codes rather than toll-free area codes. And they have managed to figure out exactly when to call so that they get me at a time when Dad isn’t home. So just on the off chance, the remote possibility, that something tragic happened (like his phone died) or something urgent is going on (like his phone died and he doesn’t know whether to salmon or chicken for dinner), I answer.

The other day, I answered the phone to discover a live human (live, not friendly) calling from a polling organization and asking for your sister. I explained that she wasn’t home. Less than 20 minutes later, someone else from the same organization called again asking for her. I said she didn’t live here anymore. Less than 20 minutes later – you guessed it – they called again. Since this was seriously cutting into my NCIS rerun viewing, I let the Puppy talk to them for a while. He has Very Interesting Views mostly involving treats and naps.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I was browsing Facebook (shocking, I know) and found a very interesting thought a friend of mine had posted:

So many things to say, but not one reason in the world to say them. Don’t you just wish this thought occurred to more people before they started typing????!!!! Just saying….

What was even more interesting to me were the comments people shared (and no, none of the comments were from me).

Commenter 1: When my son (now 21) first got Facebook, as “good” parents, we insisted on being his friend so we could monitor what he was doing and who he was conversing with. Early on, he had a post and I commented on it. Shortly thereafter, he came downstairs and said, “Mom…don’t write on my wall. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” This has become our family mantra. I wish more people would take a minute to think about this before saying things they probably shouldn’t.

Commenter 2: I just heard on NPR that a teacher is sharing this acronym with her students: W.A.I.T. which stands for Why Am I Talking? If it serves no useful purpose, why talk?

Commenter 3: I have an opinion on everything. My very wise husband says, “yes, (sweetheart)….you are entitled to your opinion – but not everyone wants to hear it”

Just because you think something, does not mean you are required to share it for everyone and their brother to see (and by “everyone and their brother” I mean everyone on the planet who’s ever thought of being anywhere near social media).

What do you think? Are you entitled to say anything you think? Or should you show restraint?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Well, aren’t I just the trendiest Mom you have?

This week, I Uber-ed (for the first time).

Michael, my driver, is a retired Cincinnati Public School employee who has been driving for Uber for all of 5 days. He has 9 grandchildren and when he’s not driving for Uber, he’s the “personal Uber driver” for one of his granddaughters. How nice to have your own chauffer! Oh, wait. You called your personal chauffeurs “mom” and “dad”.

Michael is having a wonderful time being an Uber driver. He can’t think of anything to complain about and he loves meeting new people.

We were traveling north from downtown during rush hour—always a fun trip (and by “fun” I mean slow). Michael does not believe in sitting still, so when we encountered a traffic jam on I-75 we headed straight for the exit ramp, and proceeded north on the backroads. Then when we found ourselves facing one of Cincinnati’s never-ending trains (actual count: 783 cars) Michael hopped out of the car (I kid you not), asked the car behind us to back up, and U-turned us for smoother sailing.

We backroad-ed 60% of the way.

Michael drove extremely safely, edging us ever closer to Our Final Destination, and eventually we arrived.

I. Have. Uber-ed! (You may smile in condescending admiration.)

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It probably will not surprise you to learn that Dad is watching a bio-ecology-ocean-fish TV show (especially when I tell you there aren’t any major sporting events on air at the moment).

It probably will stun you to learn that I am watching too. And I hope you don’t fall over when you learn that I haven’t started commenting about the plot (non-existent), the dialog (non-existent), the narration (monotone), or the music (snore).

I am completely and utterly transfixed by the videography.

My Friend the Internet has turned sulky. Really, really sulky. DearKidLoveMom.com

How do they DO that? How do they hold the camera steady when the ocean is busy moving and there’s no place to put a tripod? How do they get stunningly clear pictures when all the oceans I’ve ever seen are muddy and have seaweed floating in the way? How do they manage to have air-based video, surface video, and underwater video all at the same time? How do they get the fish and turtles and dolphins and sharks to cooperate? I can’t even get the Puppy to pose—even when I try copious bribery.

So I turned to My Friend the Internet for information.

Me: How do they DO that?
MFtI: Can’t tell you.
Me: What do you mean you can’t tell me?
MFtI: Trade secret.
Me: What do you mean “trade secret”? The whole point of the internet is to share all information, secret or not.
MFtI: Possibly not the whole point.
Me: Close enough.
MFtI: Yeah. Except in this case.
Me: Who decided this?
MFtI: I did.
Me: You’re putting our friendship at risk.
MFtI: Sorry to disappoint you.

I don’t know where this new internet came from, but I am seriously disappointed.

On the other hand, the probability of me taking up underwater videography is not good. So perhaps a bit of mystery is a good thing.

Love, Mom