Saturday, Shortman passed his road test - now, as soon as he turns 16, he’ll be able to drive. By himself. Legally (as opposed to this time). Heaven help me. His appointment was at 10:00 a.m.; we left the house at 9:30 to ensure plenty of time. After only passing the place once (!), we pulled in and a really nice man came over and said “Hotfessional and Shortman?”. We agreed that that was who we were, and he went over all the rules.

First, Shortman would have to pull forward into a parking space, then back into a parking space, and then (gulp), parallel park. He’d been practicing, and we had the Baby Car, so I wasn’t worried - too much. He just couldn’t knock over any cones. If he passed the parking section, then he’d drive around with Larry the Instructor for 15 miles - on the expressway, on surface roads, through neighborhoods. I was fine with all of this, until Larry told me this:

“And Mrs. Hot, you’ll ride in the back since you’re the licensed driver of the car. And you can’t say a word.”

Oh my holy hell. My brand new Baby Car, 1200 miles on it, and Shortman was going to drive with me in the back and I’m not.allowed.to.freakin’.talk. What the hella is wrong with this picture?

But, we set off, and other than missing a turn into a subdivision (in all fairness, the instructor did tell him a tad late that we were going to make a right turn…right there! as we went right past it), and merging into a left-hand turn lane early, he did just fine.

When we pulled back into the parking lot, the Instructor told Shortman to make sure he remembered to smile for the camera when he got his picture taken. Shortman liked to have bust his face apart he was smiling so broadly. I got out of the back seat and walked around to get into the front passenger seat. Look at Mr. Instructor and wiped my hands on my shorts. “Thanks Larry”, I said. “Just let me dry my palms off before I shake your hand.”

On the way home, Shortman asked me, “Mom, do Driver’s Ed instructors make a lot of money?” I told him that I didn’t know, but I didn’t think so. He responded, “Then why in the world would you subject yourself to that kind of torture?!?”.

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Thank you all for the lovely anniversary wishes. I got home to this bouquet of the most beautifully colored roses I’ve ever seen and a couple of really interesting books (about forensic psychology! There’s a joke waiting there; something about my husband wanting me to know that people have already tried that method of murder, so it won’t work….but it really is one of my favorite subjects…go figure).

Then we went to dinner and had ribs and catfish, and lots of merlot. Yummy. And cornbread. Real, honest to freakin’ goodness cornbread and greens. Here’s a picture of the merlot. And my, um, chest.

Oh, and you guys? It was my buddy Sue’s 11th anniversary. We’re anniversary-twins. So Happy, Happy to Mr. and Mrs. Sue - who I love, because we both enjoy a good cry and can weep over Dr. Seuss. Mine, I attribute to pre-menopause. Sue is not quite there, yet, so we’re wondering about that E.P.T. Because, you know, the way things are going out here in blogland, I’m sure that if my tubes weren’t tied, I’d be pregnant too. From the water. Yea, that’s it.

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Now, don’t y’all forget. October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. For those of you who haven’t been by WhyMommy’s site, please take a look at the information regarding Inflammatory Breast Cancer. IBC is not like “normal” (if you can use that adjective for something that is so horrid) breast cancer. The symptoms of IBC are:

• Swelling, usually sudden, sometimes a cup size in a few days
• Itching
• Pink, red, or dark colored area (called erythema) sometimes with texture similar to the skin of an orange (called peau d’orange)
• Ridges and thickened areas of the skin
• What appears to be a bruise that does not go away
• Nipple retraction
• Nipple discharge, may or may not be bloody
• Breast is warm to the touch
• Breast pain (from a constant ache to stabbing pains)
• Change in color and texture of the areola

Also, if you’d like to use my button over there (—>) to link to my “Save the Boobies” drawing, please feel free. If you need the code, send me an email at reereep(at)gmail(dot)com.

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—-And now, it’s back down to the television with my vodka/cranberry and the Lions, who may actually beat the Bears. Sorry Kristabella. Just add another glass of wine to my tab. And, no, I’m not even going to mention the Spartans screw up yesterday. So there.—-

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