1. Someone slashed my tire. Like with a knife. Or something. And as if that wasn't bad enough, the tire they slashed was the one and only good tire left on my car. Husband, bless his heart, spent over an hour trying to take the tire off only to find that the tire was actually rusted right to the hub. Yeah. We haven't actually gotten new tires in...years. We ended up having to call a tow truck, which, by the way, set us back $85...who on earth charges $85 to pick up a car and drive it a mile down the road? Since they were over an hour later than their original estimated pick up time, I think they should have paid me.
What was quite entertaining about the whole thing was that everyone I talked to about it acted like I was an idiot when I explained the situation.
"The tire is rusted to the car? Really, ma'am? Because that barely ever happens."
The best part was watching the man who said that yank and yank on the tire for fifteen minutes and fail to remove it.
They had to bring out the heavy equipment and even then, it took them an extra 30 minutes to get it off.
I wanted to walk over and say, "Yeah, that barely ever happens."
2. Along with a girl at church, I hosted a Shelf Reliance party last night. Shelf Reliance does long term food storage items. Most of their food is freeze dried. The consultant made a potato, cheese, and ham soup from the products. It was ok. What was really good were the brownies she made from a mix where you only have to add water. That's my kind of deal. The best part about the party, however, was the company. I never hang out with these girls without nearly wetting my pants.
3. And speaking of the girls, we've all signed up to run Winnie Wars in two months. It's a 3.5 mile course that looks kind of like Wipe Out. I mostly signed up just so I can laugh at all the others. Let's be honest - we're not the most athletic group. Several of us are chubby. Can you imagine that trying to army crawl through mud? Hysterical. Look for us on America's Funniest Home Videos in the future.
4. I'm smack dab in the middle of a continuing education class for my massage license. I'm not going to lie, I pretty much hate every class like that I ever have to take. Mostly because in every, single class there is a know-it-all. This class is no exception. This dude started talking when he walked in the door and didn't stop almost all morning. On top of being a know-it-all, he's also a one-upper. He can't even wait for someone else to finish a thought before he starts a story that's obviously-better-than-yours. The good news is that after lunch, he snoozed through most of the afternoon (good thing, too, because I was about ready to pitch him). Can I just tell you how much most male massage therapists freak me out? I think they're kind of creepy.
The bad news about the class is that not only am I the youngest participant by over 15 years, I'm also the only one who's been practicing for less than twelve years. I'm not going to lie, most of the terms the instructor uses go straight over my head. I'm pretty sure that most of the time I'm just sitting there with a blank stare on my face.