Anecdotes for the New Year (but not at all related to the new year)

Okay, first of all let me acknowledge my 6 month absence from this blog. I'm sorry I abandoned you.

Wait! Don't go... I can explain.

Over the summer, I made a terrible life choice that took up a lot of my time. That's right... I started grad school.

I moved to Washington D.C. for the summer where many mildly humorous things happened (maybe one day I'll tell you about how God proposed to me/asked me to be his queen while I was walking to a Metro stop).

In August I returned to Tejas to begin my second year of teaching, continue grad school, return to the stage (ah, community theatre), and train for (and complete!) my first full marathon. As you can see, I've had plenty of free time and have been ignoring my blog simply because I hate all of you. Yes... every last one of the five of you reading this.

BUT, it is a new year! And, as is customary of those who love to fail/hate themselves, I have made a resolution. Perhaps it was inspired by the threat of the impending apocalypse, but in 2012, I have resolved to be a better person!

I'll be honest, though... it's not going well so far. So I thought maybe I should just resolve to do something easier, like blog more.

So here we are.

But why today? Why resume blogging on a random Saturday one week into the new year? Well, today is an important day for me and for my family. Today would have been my dad's 52nd birthday.

I know, I know... Dead dads are not even mildly humorous.

(And the fact that I wrote "dead dads" is making you exceptionally uncomfortable. But I'm the one who lost my dad, so I'm allowed to phrase it however I see fit. Deal with me.)

But if there was one thing that my dad secretly loved to do (he was an accountant, so it couldn't be too public), it was laugh! He was an incredibly goofy and funny man, so in honor of my dad and his dorky sense of humor, I've decided to share a couple of mildly humorous anecdotes about/involving him.

Anecdote #1

This anecdote comes from the early part of my childhood. Actually, I don't have a clear memory of it happening, but I've heard the story several times in adulthood, and it always elicits a semi-chuckle out of those within earshot.

One day, my dad was driving somewhere. I don't know where, but I know that my older sister, W, and I were in the car with him. Whilst cruising along the streets of suburbia, a small bird swooped down and flew directly in front of our car.

Now, some birds can get away with this crazy behavior. For no apparent reason, they dart around moving vehicles, and, because they're fast, they survive to high five the frat brothers egging them on from a nearby treetop. (Hah. Birds egging each other on... Get it?)

Initiation for this poor bird, however, went awry. He turned up a little too late, causing him to collide with the windshield of my father's car.

Feathers flew everywhere, and as the car sped onward, I looked up to my dad with innocent brown eyes and asked, "Daddy... do you think that bird is going to be okay?"

"... Yeah... Yeah, Lauren. I'm pretty sure he's fine."

Important parenting skill #1: Lying. Let's be real here... parents do it all the time.

Anecdote #2

Before I begin this story, I need to give you a bit of background information. A few months before this incident took place, my dad was in an accident that caused him to lose one of his eyes. The loss of an eye can pose many challenges for a person- mobility becomes more difficult due to loss of depth perception. I know... this isn't remotely funny either, but keep reading. It gets better.

When I was 15, I got my learner's permit. This is an exciting event for most 15 year-olds, but I hated to drive (still do, actually).

I think this has something to do with the fact that I learned to drive in a huge suburban, and whenever I practiced driving, my parents were quite obviously panicked (sorry, Mom, but you know it's true). I also frequently had to drive with my entire family of 8 in the car, which is extremely stressful for an already insecure driver.

Because of the terror I experienced every time I sat behind the steering wheel, I usually tried to avoid driving whenever possible, but this particular night I was unsuccessful.

My family had gone out for dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant, and my twin sister had driven us there. It was my responsibility, then, to drive us home.

I climbed into the driver's seat (again... it was a suburban, so it really was a climb) and cautiously pulled out of the parking lot. The 15 minute drive home was nerve-wracking, but fairly uneventful.

Okay... maybe I hit a few curbs. But really, that didn't count as eventful when I was driving.

Finally, we made it home. I'm sure for most nervous drivers, the driveway signals the end of the horror, but this was not the case at my house. The driveway itself isn't bad, but our garage sits at a 90 degree angle to the driveway. It also happened to be FULL of stuff most of the time, which made parking a suburban inside of it quite a challenge.

The suburban was barely moving forward as I steered it into the garage. As I inched forward, my dad said from the passenger seat, "Lauren, stop.... you're going to hit the wall on the left side."

My mom, who was sitting directly behind me, chimed in. "No, Jim, she's fine! Keep going, Lauren."

I took my foot off of the brake and continued moving forward.

Dad: "Okay, stop. You're getting too close to the wall."

I hit the brakes.

Mom: "You're FINE, Lauren! Keep going."

I released the brakes.

Dad: "Stop, stop, stop."

Brakes.

Mom: "It's fine!"

W (older sister): "Yeah, she's fine!"

At this point I remember thinking that I would never get behind a steering wheel again. People can survive without a driver's license, right?

For the last time, I release the brake and begin moving forward.

About two seconds later, we all heard the scraping of metal on wood and brick.

In a state of sheer terror, I stop the car, and my dad lets out something I would describe as a cross between a scream and a growl.

I put the car in park and sprinted into the house and up the stairs, where I hid for the next few hours.

After I had left, my dad said (quite loudly, I believe), "Why is it that the only one with NO depth perception is the ONLY one who knew she was going to hit the wall?!"

Important parenting skill #2: the ability to make angry jokes in really frustrating situations.

So there you have it. My first blog post of the new year/birthday shout out to the best dad a girl could ever have asked for.

Here's hoping your 2012 is full of mildly humorous (and downright hilarious) stories! And here's hoping mine has even more. I mean, I've got to fill this blog with something.