No one can drive down Park Road 4 without counting their blessings. I defy them. I know it looks like an anonymous turn off of Highway 281. And the first stretch might mislead you into thinking it’s just a paved path to take you wherever you’re going. Even as you pass Longhorn Cavern, you might still be preoccupied enough to take this place for granted.
And maybe it’s best if you are lulled and unsuspecting when you come to that first hill. Then it really gets you in pit of your belly. Your car tilts down and you have to lift your head to see forward. But you can’t really see forward, you can only see the almost vertical up-stretch of blacktop that is the other side of the hill. The trees block the rest of the road from view. And while you crane your neck, watching for oncoming cars, your stomach floats up into your chest. And before you know it you are tilting your head down, trying to see over the hood of your car, and you stomach is being pulled down toward your seat. Then whoosh, it’s over.
And what makes this road better than any other tickle-belly hill from my childhood is that, on Park Road 4, there’s another hill coming, just as steep as the first. And then there’s a third that’s almost as exciting that follows right after that. And if you’re really blessed, you’ll have two ten-year-old boys in the back seat yelling “Faster! Faster!” But you don’t really have to go faster. The hills will still give their thrill at a safe speed.
And once you’re past those hills and smiling in that homemade ice-cream and lemonade frame of mind, there’s a majestic castle that comes into view just long enough to amaze you all over again. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, you still come to that one point in the road where it’s rising out of the greenery and looming against the blue sky. Then it disappears again, and you can only catch glimpses of it through the trees.
But the little guys in the back won’t let you work very hard to get another look at the castle. “Wow! Mom, look at that.” You turn and sloping down to the left are soft rolling hills framed by the bristly cedar and oak that line the roads. And you feel like you’re landing an airplane when you slide down and around the hill and the view collapses slowly and drags out behind you.
So if you just happen to be taking Park Road 4 to meet the very best friends you have for a birthday party to celebrate one of the most amazing kids you know, well, just be sure you can handle that kind of bliss. It is exquisite.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
School Supplies and Introspection
I watched yet another movie today with that same musical scene where one of the main characters walks down a busy street in soul searching reflection. The scene always starts with unfamiliar faces walking toward the camera as a sad song plays. Then in the crowd, the main character’s face distinguishes itself from the rest, as he or she looks introspective.
And after I left the theater, my husband and I went to the store to buy school supplies. Of course I waited until the last minute to buy them. And I won’t use the excuse that I was too busy to do it sooner. Of course I’m busy. Everyone is busy. But yesterday, when I should have gone to the store to get the deed done, I just couldn’t do it. I got tired just thinking about it. So I drove home in soul searching reflection, telling myself that this must be how lazy people feel. They know what they should do, and they don’t. And I told myself that the only difference between me and lazy people are our actions. Then I laid down on the couch with my laptop and wrote.
Being that I’m in a writing class, you might think of writing as a productive thing to do. But the truth is, I don’t earn a living at it and no one is depending on me to get it done. I do it because it is as relaxing an escape for me as a bubble-bath and a romance novel is to some of my friends. So I’m not delusional. I know that being at that store on the Sunday night before school starts was a bad situation created by none other than my own lazy, selfish choices.
So there I was. I had just gotten out of the movie with the reflective-music-busy-street-walking scene, and I found myself in the dismal discount store with the rest of the procrastinating parents. And we all looked haggard and stressed. And we would have been pushy and rude, but we didn’t have any fight in us. And I know why. Because the supply list requires brads in the folders. Pockets and brads. And teachers have asked for pockets and brads for as long as my kids have been in school. And every year, there is box after box full of folders with no brads. Those folders are colorful and have sports team logos on them. They come with a wide variety of colors and designs on the front. They are a great way for your student to express their individuality. But they don’t have brads.
And you get pushed along the school-supply aisle faster than you can search for the items on your list, because other parents need what is just beyond you. So you move a little to let them get what they need, and then someone is behind them, and you move a little more, still trying to look back at the pencils to see how many packs of 8 or 3 that you will need to get the 43 called for on the list. But before you can decide what combination of regular and mechanical pencils your child will want, you have been pushed past the grading pencils, the dividers, the binders and the clipboards. (I want to know what supply list calls for clipboards? I have a junior in high school and have yet to need one of those.) And before you know it, you are pushed out the other end, your basket is empty and you have to circle around to start over.
But, things are looking up in the old Stewart household. The store still had most of what was on the school-supply list. And it was on the school-supply aisle that I had that moment. That moment when your blog topic occurs to you. Even if you don’t blog you know what I mean. Everyone has a funny rant every now and then.
I had been pushed out of the aisle for about the fourth time, and I found myself looking back down at the faces of the parents. At that moment, they looked like the faces on a busy street. And then, the face I was searching for came into focus. My husband, red-eyed and irritated, reflecting on the shortage of folders with brads, I’m sure. If a sad song had been playing, it would have been a scene right out of a movie. Someone should put a school-supply shopping scene into a movie. But movie makers, please don’t let the scene go on too long. I get tired just thinking about it.
And after I left the theater, my husband and I went to the store to buy school supplies. Of course I waited until the last minute to buy them. And I won’t use the excuse that I was too busy to do it sooner. Of course I’m busy. Everyone is busy. But yesterday, when I should have gone to the store to get the deed done, I just couldn’t do it. I got tired just thinking about it. So I drove home in soul searching reflection, telling myself that this must be how lazy people feel. They know what they should do, and they don’t. And I told myself that the only difference between me and lazy people are our actions. Then I laid down on the couch with my laptop and wrote.
Being that I’m in a writing class, you might think of writing as a productive thing to do. But the truth is, I don’t earn a living at it and no one is depending on me to get it done. I do it because it is as relaxing an escape for me as a bubble-bath and a romance novel is to some of my friends. So I’m not delusional. I know that being at that store on the Sunday night before school starts was a bad situation created by none other than my own lazy, selfish choices.
So there I was. I had just gotten out of the movie with the reflective-music-busy-street-walking scene, and I found myself in the dismal discount store with the rest of the procrastinating parents. And we all looked haggard and stressed. And we would have been pushy and rude, but we didn’t have any fight in us. And I know why. Because the supply list requires brads in the folders. Pockets and brads. And teachers have asked for pockets and brads for as long as my kids have been in school. And every year, there is box after box full of folders with no brads. Those folders are colorful and have sports team logos on them. They come with a wide variety of colors and designs on the front. They are a great way for your student to express their individuality. But they don’t have brads.
And you get pushed along the school-supply aisle faster than you can search for the items on your list, because other parents need what is just beyond you. So you move a little to let them get what they need, and then someone is behind them, and you move a little more, still trying to look back at the pencils to see how many packs of 8 or 3 that you will need to get the 43 called for on the list. But before you can decide what combination of regular and mechanical pencils your child will want, you have been pushed past the grading pencils, the dividers, the binders and the clipboards. (I want to know what supply list calls for clipboards? I have a junior in high school and have yet to need one of those.) And before you know it, you are pushed out the other end, your basket is empty and you have to circle around to start over.
But, things are looking up in the old Stewart household. The store still had most of what was on the school-supply list. And it was on the school-supply aisle that I had that moment. That moment when your blog topic occurs to you. Even if you don’t blog you know what I mean. Everyone has a funny rant every now and then.
I had been pushed out of the aisle for about the fourth time, and I found myself looking back down at the faces of the parents. At that moment, they looked like the faces on a busy street. And then, the face I was searching for came into focus. My husband, red-eyed and irritated, reflecting on the shortage of folders with brads, I’m sure. If a sad song had been playing, it would have been a scene right out of a movie. Someone should put a school-supply shopping scene into a movie. But movie makers, please don’t let the scene go on too long. I get tired just thinking about it.
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