Thursday, October 6, 2011

286 ANOTHER TIME IN THE CAR

So, I am driving with a child, sitting next to me in the car, captive audience, again.
This time I'm really impressed with whatever insight is popping out of my head.
Whenever that happens, I pull over, park, and write the insight down before the configuration of that thought disappears.

In truth, this happens so frequently, that when my kids were growing up, my pattern drove them crazy.
So when, on this particular day, I pull over and start writing, my teenager's frustration grabs the paper out of my hand.  Upon watching the window on the passenger side go down, I anticipate my insight about to flutter away, so I lunge for the paper.  But my lunge proves futile, because instead of tossing my insight where I can jump out of the car and retrieve it—my child crams it into his mouth.

Picture me pulling at the edge of the paper still sticking out.
Picture a teen ager chewing on my words.
Picture my face when the pulpy lump is swallowed.
Picture a teen grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary
Picture us laughing till our cheeks hurt.
Picture a pair of lips black with fresh ink.

Picture life within a family made up of this communication's instructor and several unique personalities.  Life in our house has never been boring.  More often than not, our memories set off laughing jags, more hilarious than any story a writer's imagination might think to make up.  One by one, these stories will pop up on your screen.

So anyway, I begin to drive, again, but we can't stop laughing ... so I pull over and stop the car again, and ...

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