Who is the Better Driver?

Why is it every time we get in the car to drive anywhere, my husband and son start talking smack about how men are better drivers than women.  "You know, most NASCAR drivers are men.  In the movies, they use male stunt drivers..... even for scenes when females are driving.  Evel Knievel was a man and there has not been a She-vel Knievel", and on they go to ad nauseam.

I listen to this nonsense even though national statistics prove women are the safer drivers.  As proof of that data, I have only had one car wrecked since I have been driving.  Who totaled it?  My husband. And yet he is still convinced he is the better driver.

A number of years ago, I made the executive decision that I would do all of the driving in our household. Why?
A) Because my husband does not like to drive;
B) When he looks around while he is driving, his hands turn the steering wheel in whichever direction his eyes move.  Being in the car while he is driving is like being in a lifeboat in the middle of an apocalyptic, your-life-is-flashing-before-your-eyes hurricane.

The last time he drove on a long car trip was in 1999.  He had taken over driving after we stopped for a leg-stretching break at a rest stop.  We were about 20 minutes down the road, when he started looking around at the scenery. 

The car began to sway back and forth. First we went left, then we went right. Within a few minutes of this rollercoaster ride, I got motion sick.  After I made him pull off the highway (so I could get sick on the side of the road), I took over the driving......... and have not given him the opportunity to drive me anywhere since.  He contends it was not his driving but that I got ahold of some bad chocolate.  There is no such thing as "bad" chocolate.

Recently while we were in the grocery store, I discovered my husband drives the shopping cart the same way he drives a car.  This discovery was a rather rude eye-opener when he took out an endcap of potted meat while he was perusing the macaroni and cheese on the other side of the aisle.

After we put all of the cans back on the shelf and I was muttering under my breath about what "fantastic" drivers men are, we turned the corner onto the cereal aisle.  We hadn't taken 5 steps down the aisle when we encountered a husband pushing a shopping cart behind his wife.  As the man pointed to a box of Pop-Tarts to his right, he pushed the shopping cart left.  He took out an entire shelf of Fruit Loops.

In a show of solidarity, my husband called out to the man and told him it was a combination of the uneven floor and the shopping cart's propensity to make a hard left turn which caused the destruction.  I looked at my husband and asked if he had used his Spidey-vision to get the level of the floor.

This Spring, my dad began been teaching our son to play golf.  Because we have hit the dog days of summer, my parents decided to take our son to a golf superstore and let him practice putting in an air-conditioned environment.

After he and my dad were finished putting, my son took over pushing the shopping cart from my mom.  As my dad was showing him another teenager putting, my son ran the shopping cart into a bank of 50+ putters.  Much to their horror, the putters fell down one after another like a bunch of lined up dominoes.  He apparently got the driving gene from his father.

But men are better drivers than women..........

Christie Bielss

Invasion of the Fire Ants

Courtesy of Microsoft Clip Art

Back in the early days of our marriage, Mike and I were in our first house and had decided instead of having children, we would try out our parenting skills on a puppy.  We figured that if we messed up with a dog he's either retrainable or we'd only have to put up with our "bad parenting" for a finite number of years.  We were trying to potty train our tiny little fur-baby but every time he'd go outside, he'd  get bitten by fire ants.  This was severely thwarting our efforts.  And, because we would go outside with him, we would also become the unlucky recipients of those nasty little bites.

For those of you who've never been introduced to fire ants, they are mean, nasty little ants who are intent upon killing every living thing  and taking over Planet Earth with their giant ant colonies.  Hollywood could make a good scary movie casting these ants as the villains, although the cast and crew would need extra hazard pay because getting a single bite from one will create a scratching, burning frenzy of pain.

Determined to be good "parents" to our fur-baby, we tried every chemical in the home improvement stores to eradicate the dastardly little villains.  We were having no luck.  All they would do is move their mound 3 feet over.  Finally, after our yard had so many mounds it was looking like a low-income housing project, we tried treating the whole yard at once.  Victory!  The ants moved on.......but only next door to the neighbor's house, where they made new friends, hung out and partied together and created an even larger colony.

When the chemicals in our yard lost some of their effectiveness, those partying ants moved back into our yard and brought all of their new mooching friends with them.  There were so many ants going every which way in our yard it was like the toga party scene from the movie "Animal House".

Mike talked with some of his buddies about the best way to rid our yard of these invaders and, using their advice, he decided on a plan of action.  He didn't say much to me about what the plan was except that he found a new "chemical" mixture he was going to try.

One day while I was busy inside the house, Mike implemented his plan, which consisted of thoroughly dousing the biggest mound with gas.  He took great care to get the gas spread all the way to the edge of the mound and then set the gas can a couple of feet away from the mound.  Ever so carefully, he lit the mound on fire.

Through the living room window, the giant flash of the gas igniting caught my eye.  Within seconds the mound was engulfed in flames.  I watched as my husband chortled in glee and danced a little victory jig as the ant mound sparkled like fireworks.  As he celebrated, the fire grew larger, engulfing the entire mound .......... and then he noticed a problem.  When he'd set the gas can down, he'd inadvertently left a trail of gas from the mound to the can.  His chortling and dancing turned to a loud exclamation of fear and a dance of panic as he watched the fire move quickly from the fire ant mound, down the path of gas and hop right into the gas can. 

Without even stopping to think, he picked up the can and flung it with all of his strength toward the concrete culvert behind our house.  As the gas can was flying over the fence and through the air, it exploded in a giant fireball over the culvert.  Thankfully it hadn't exploded when he'd picked it up and nothing caught on fire.  The explosion did bring out all the neighborhood kids as they excitedly asked one another who had the matches.  Mike quickly ducked down before they could see him and turned back to our yard as though nothing had happened.

I stepped into the backyard as Mike grabbed the garden hose to put out the fire that was quickly spreading to the surrounding grass. Trying to think of the right way to ask what he was thinking, which didn't involve the use of words like "idiot", "moron", and "hair-brained", I peered down at the mound.  Hundreds of worker ants were already crawling out of the mound and rebuilding the damage that had been done to their home.  Mike looked up at me and said with a tone of defeat, "Well..... that didn't exactly go as planned.".   I said "Ummm, yeah.....I think you're gonna need a new gas can........ and better pest control advice.".

 

by: Christie Bielss

Kids, Husbands, and Chores

We have been undergoing a major kitchen renovation that we are doing ourselves.  In all honesty, we probably should've written in to the DIY network's show "Renovation Realities" and had them come film our progress. 

Because I've been the one doing the painting and such, Mike and the kids have taken on some of my weekly tasks to ease my burden.  Isn't that sweet?  Maybe, maybe not.  I've been noticing a build-up of dust on the floors and have repeatedly asked that they be vacuumed.  In the past couple of days when I ask, Mike will go and get the kids and after some whispered discussion, I'll hear the vacuum being run for a while.  Today, after being chased by a dust bunny the size of a Great Dane, I struck out in search of my vacuum.  The picture above is what I found.  Duct tape - it can solve any problem.........but only if you actually cover the hole you broke in the sucker hose in multiple places. 

Thinking I might just go out and buy a new vacuum, toss the broken one in the trash and act like the new one is my old vacuum - just to see how they react.  I'm betting I'll have some rascally houseguests:  Wasn't Me, I Didn't Do It, and I Don't Know.......

by: Christie Bielss