6:20 am: Tiger and I are in our van, hurtling toward our carpool pickup spot. When I look into the rearview mirror I see that my hair has frizzed due to the high humidity. I look like I stuck my finger into a light socket, only less alert.
7:00 am: I drop off Tiger and meet Joanne at Starbucks to discuss the status of my upcoming swim meet snack bar.
As I wait for my grande, I imagine that Joanne will offer to take over the snack bar, giving me a much easier job to do for the team, like extracting impacted molars from giant crocodiles.
7:40 am: Our snack bar business has concluded and sadly, I’m still in charge of the snack bar.
8:00 to 10 am: I work on my snack bar shopping list. It’s hot and muggy and my t-shirt sticks to me.
I imagine working the snack bar on a hot and muggy day like today, but things are bad because I ordered hot chocolate instead of Gatorades and bottled water. Swim meet participants are dropping all over the pool deck from heatstroke!
That’s when a crew of parents attacks me with swim fins and snorkels for ruining their kids’ best chances for a Zone time, and I imagine trying to climb up the lifeguard’s chair to escape but the lifeguard beats me back down with a flotation device.
LIFEGUARD: My kid sister coulda had a ZONE TIME!
10:05 am: I leave to pick up Tiger from the carpool pickup point. Micki is late picking up her daughter so I call her. She’s stuck in traffic on the I-5. Just then a hit-and-run driver plows into Micki’s car. BAM!
She’s okay, but she’s going to be late. Joanne offers to hold on to Micki’s daughter and I race off with Tiger. We carpooling women are nothing if not flexible.
10:25 am: Tiger and I are late to his community service appointment. As we pull in to the parking lot the car makes a strange sound.
10:30 am: Tiger and I pick up coolers containing meals for homebound seniors. The odd car sound gets louder and turns into a grinding noise. It sounds like something evil is chewing up the car’s engine compartment.
I wonder if the car will die on me on the I-5. I imagine getting out and pulling up the hood, only to have something evil with wings fly out and attack me, but spit me out because I’m so sweaty and stinky.
EVIL THING WITH WINGS: And you never called back that sub sandwich place about donations, either!
10:40 am: I call the community service headquarters from the auto mechanic’s waiting area. I ask for a substitute driver.
I tell the auto mechanic receptionist all about the evil noise coming from my car. She writes: “check evil noise” on the estimate sheet. Hopefully they won’t charge extra for this.
11:00 am: Tiger just got off a 2-hour swim practice and is hungry. My brain turns off and I offer to walk him down to Alberto’s in downtown Encinitas. When we arrive at Alberto’s, I remember: I left the community service meal coolers in the mechanic’s waiting area!
Community Service Credo:
Never leave the meals behind!!!
I gallop past a storefront window on the way back to the auto mechanic. My reflection reveals a head of frizz; I look like an albino version of Foxy Cleopatra, only lots chubbier.
11:10 am: Tiger catches up with a diet Coke for me, which I gulp down. The substitute driver arrives. He doesn’t know the route and asks us to go with him.
Tiger and I pile into this guy’s tiny car. He rolls up his window and tells us he never uses the air conditioner and he’s not even sure it works. He turns it on. Hot air blasts out.
11:15 am: It turns out he was pushing the heater button. My frizzy hair now reaches for the ceiling of his car interior. Soon, it may start lunging at strangers.
12:30 pm: The mechanic calls just as we finish our route. Our van needs new brakes and new rotors.
$800.
KA-CHING!
I resolve to make Hubby a really nice dinner tonight and tell him after he eats, but then I remember I won’t be able to get groceries today, so I resolve instead to make a really nice dinner out of leftovers.
12:45 pm: The substitute driver drops us off at our house. It smells funny inside and I see odd-looking splashes on the floor and walls, reminding me I forgot to put cleaning supplies on my snack bar shopping list.
I follow the trail of splashes as I imagine how my snack bar sends 50 people (maybe more!) to the hospital with food poisoning.
CENTER FOR DISEASE CONTROL: The woman responsible for this snack bar will be put behind bars!
The splashes lead me to Mojo, who’s in the middle of an impressive diarrhea attack.
12:46 pm: The day pretty much went downhill from there.
OH poor Bonnie 🙁 I promise it will get better!
As a snack bar queen (7 years of football—this is my last year! woohoo!)I know you’re gonna do fine. The trick is always overestimate the bottles of water needed and stay away from too much chocolate goodies, all they do is melt. Keep it simple and you’ll be fine.
Ack! Bonnie, what a day.
Did my chaos gods find you? Bad chaos. Bad.
I hope today has been better.
Wowsers. Absolutely craptastic!
EGADS…Holy crapoli, Batman!…I’m laughing and feeling bad for you at the same time.
So, is it time for the Sinead O’Conner look?
Liked the splatter on the walls…made it oh so poetic. I do not envy your sponge.
ooohhhhh….((((((((((((((((((((HUGS)))))))))))))))))
Hi, Laurie… I will NEVER organize a snack bar again. I’m good at the grunt work, but not the planning and organizing. If they approach me to do this again, I will run off SCREAMING.
But I do appreciate knowing other women have survived this. I will survive!
Yeah, Kristen, it’s YOUR FAULT! Dang Chaos God. Grumble…
Hey, Dwight! I thought only my boys used the term “craptastic.” I thought they invented it!
You and me, Mimi… The Sinead O’Connor look! Let’s do it! Hubby says I’ll like being bald.
April, after I posted this I took a nap. I think I’ve got the cold that’s been going around the swim team. The hug helps lots! It’s really not that bad, anyway. 🙂
Hair ” lunging at strangers…”
This whole thing is absolutely hysterical – wonderful – you have a gift. (No, not the one from Mojo)
When they call about the snack bar stuff, I pretend i’m not home and don’t answer my phone. Then I pretend that my message machine doesn’t work right, also that I didn’t get the email and can’t find it in the spam box. I drive in quick, drop the kids off and drive away quicker.
So far, my technique is working.
Dear Bonnie…I don’t know which was worse – you’re imagined scenarios or the real thing. I think the funny smell and the odd-looking splashes on the wall trump your imagination. Sorry chica. 😉
Hope all is better soon — and I will be watching the local news closely for any mention of swim meet snack bar felonies involving an “albino foxy Cleopatra!”
Ciao bella…try and enjoy the weekend!
Oh, I hope that cold gets better soon!
Thanks, Bernita. My hair is thin, but when it frizzes, look out, world!
M.G., that’s exactly what the other swim moms are telling me: never answer the phone.
Teri, the only good thing about that day was Mojo deciding not to drag his poopy little butt up onto the couch. Bleah!
Geez, you poor thing, and I thought I had a bad week! (((Hugs))) The hair thing and the picture sent me into fits of deja vu laughter!
I’ve got some of those big ol’ hoop earrings if you want to borrow them to complete the Foxy Cleopatra look. And I think you can still get that oufit, complete with push-up bra, at Victoria’s Secret.
As for the snack bar, if you serve up some genuinely nasty treats, like tofu tarts and carrot juice, in the name of “feeding the kids healthy foods,” they’ll never ask you to do it again.
That’s exactly what one mom told me, TC! They asked her to do the snack bar and she said, “Sure, but I’m not going to sell any sodas or doughnuts or candy!” and they ran away.