details of a domestic goddess

part-time SAHM to four kids: Bear (96), Schmoo (99), Hercules (01), and Princess (02). I wear many hats, including that of the chef, maid, nanny, chauffeur, accountant, triage nurse, laundress, educator, admin assistant, maintenance, gardener, weekend warrior, and just mom too. when i'm not busy momming, i get up at 2am to go to work as an international spy.

06 August 2008

nissan vs. mack

The bright orange construction cones have been up on our street for about twelve days. Crews began tearing out the gutters and sidewalks, then re-setting and re-pouring them within 48 hours. This is the fastest-moving construction project I think I've ever seen. I mean, lightning fast. I didn't even get a chance to tear out our crappy, old disintegrating steps (that are being torn down this weekend anyway) before they started to lay concrete forms. I had to call in the county inspector to ask them to pour the new sidewalk far enough away from our mess so that we didn't crack the brand new concrete while digging them out.

The flag-persons are stationed on either side of the project on our narrow-ish road, directing traffic into the one open lane. The backhoe and concrete trucks try to wait for a lull in the traffic before switching places, but it is a narrow street, with many one-way streets leading off of it. There's gonna be some stoppage at some point. Every resident got a message that the street would be under construction through August 15th. Last time I looked, it still wasn't the 15th yet. You'd think people would alter their routes, even slightly, to avoid the delays...nope. They just honk. Because they live here.

*beep-beeeep*

*beeeeep-beeeeeep*

The honking gets longer as the car gets closer to where the cement truck is maneuvering to pour the curb down my stretch of block. There is a newer machine available, originally invented to create the jersey barriers along highways, modified to pour square-edged curbs quickly without needing to lay concrete forms and cutting manpower hours and labor. Man is that thing fast. But not fast enough for some people. The backhoe is acting as a crane right now, the heavy concrete-and-metal sewer sidewalk block suspended from the backhoe's bucket by a strong chain. The crew is guiding the sewer cover into place on one corner as the curb-spreader is crawling around the other.

The tan Nissan stops momentarily in the street being blocked by the giant green Mack cement truck and beeps again. A plaintive bleat under the large grumbling machinery in its way. She beeps again. And again. She inches closer to the still moving truck. As if her pathetic little piece of shit is going to stop the massive several-ton monster. And she beeps again. Really, who the fuck does she think she is?? The concrete truck cannot pause, or the concrete will pile up and bunch out the back where it is being poured smoothly, like delicate grey frosting piped on a black wedding cake. Nissan lady moves forward again, beeps, then throws her car into park and opens the car door. Literally everyone (except the still-creeping Mack) stops and gapes at this woman. She walks towards the Mack truck gesticulating at her watch and the front of the truck, and back at her car. Like that's gonna do anything. She stomps back to her car, leans inside and beeps once more, pointing at the truck and making "move!!" arm-swings.

Mack beeped back. No, Mack laid on his horn authoritatively, still closing the distance between her little piece of nothing and his giant moving mountain.

She schmacked her head on the roof of her car in surprise, jumping about ten feet in the air and meekly returned to her seat, backing up a respectable distance, and finally waiting in silence. The whole exchange took three minutes. Another 30 seconds and the Mack cleared the corner, leaving that one lane open for traffic again. Before the Nissan had a change to step on the gas, two cars behind her and the Mack all honked simultaneously.

Just desserts.