A Good Day

Today was a good day. First the back story that yesterday was not good. I planned to go to the middle school for the quarterly academic awards program. Emily always gets the Principal's Award for all A's, but was also getting Student of the Quarter. Even though it's only a 15-20 minute drive I left a little early because there was new snow and I didn't know how the roads would be.

So I cleared the snow off the car, shoveled the driveway, then shoveled the street in front of the driveway for good measure. Still when I backed out I caught some ice and slid towards the planting beds in front of the house. I was too close to the boulders that border the bed to continue forward and nothing was happening when I tried to back up. So I put on the parking brake, went in, got some dishwasher salt and sprinkled it behind each tire. That allowed me to back up enough to clear the boulders and go forward down the street. But I was starting out frazzled.

I got out of the village and got to the A6 (like the Interstate). I live off the 6, the school is off the 5. Traffic was crawling, there were a million semi-turcks, and the road was a mess. I was nervous about switching lanes because of the snow lines between, so I stayed in the right lane with semi-trucks ahead of, behind, and beside me. When I got close to a rest stop many of them pulled off. But they were impatient to get to the rest stop and began pulling between the far right lane I was in and the guard rail. I as praying no one jack-knifed. So I inched along the 6 until I got to the 5 (it took an hour to get to this point, about half way of that usual 15 minute drive.).

Then I saw the 5 was at a standstill. The exit ramp was a parking lot. Cars were actually parked, people were out talking to each other (its 20 degrees and snowing, people. Get back in your cars.) So, instead of getting on the 5 I kept on until the next exit, went down a back road back to the 6 and went home. I prayed the whole way, finally got back home (2 hours after I left) and parked 3 blocks from the house on a flat area. I was so happy to be off the road!

So today was the Student of the Quarter Luncheon. Those students got a half day off to go to a luncheon and bowling/arcade. The bolwing alley is walking distance from the school and the Principal took them. I was to meet them at noon. So I left at 10:30.

Here's where it all gets good. Because I had parked down next to the main street, a snowplow had plowed right behind the car - no shoveling, just clearing off the car. And there was a 5Euro bill in the snow next to the car. Ka-ching! The roads were clear, both of ice and traffic. I could confidently drive the speed limit. So I had time to go check the mail (it is delivered to the part of base where Eric's regular office is. With him deployed I have to drive there to check the mail.). As I pulled in I was selected for a search. They randomly do it. I've probably been selected 10 or 15 times since we've been here. You give them your ID, Driver's license and registration, open all your doors, the hood , the trunk and glove compartment and step to a waiting area. When they finish, you close all the doors and step away again while they do a mirror search under the car. But today, he said he just needed the documents and I could stay in the car. He just checked them and sent me on my way! Then at the post office I had a package from Eric! Then I got to spend the afternoon with Emily eating, playing Skee-ball and air hockey and bowling. Then I stopped at IKEA and bought a plant, and the lines weren't super long! And the woman in front of me, who had a million things (although to be fair, everyone at IKEA does. It always looks like everyone in line just moved into their first apartment and need everything.) motioned for me to go ahead of her!

And one other nice, but strange thing. Someone told me I have beautiful hair. It was one of the Dads at the luncheon. How kind and lovely, right? But this was how he started .... Are you ready for this?

"Excuse me, is that your real hair?"

I'm thinking I must have heard that wrong. What kind of weird question is that? Is he asking if I am wearing a toupe?

(By the way, Emily was doing a hilarious bit in the car, pretending to cry, saying "No one will be able to tell", they said. "It looks completely natural," they said. They lied!)

So I say "I'm sorry ...?" And he repeats it. "Is that your real hair?"

What? He goes on to say "It's really beautiful. I was telling my daughter 'That woman has really beautiful hair.'"

So it was a compliment, right? (to me or a wig-maker. I'm not sure. I'm going to say it was me.)

So anyway - a good day.

Love to you all - Val