the unexpected holiday

it began in july. about a week after our return from a much-needed trip to phoenix, my mother called to tell us that "the fam" is having a reunion in the mini-apple over thanksgiving. the fam i haven't seen in over a decade. to which i replied..."you realize that thanksgiving is on my monday, right? and that i have absolutely NO seniority at work, right?" we decided to see what we could see. turns out seniority really has no bearing on leave. it's first come, first serve. and no leave was being approved for after 15 october, due to the end of the fiscal year...on 15 october.

i priced airline tix. i priced hotels. i priced a minivan. we were looking at almost $5K for a 5-day trip. that was more than twice the price of our 16-day phoenix jaunt. no way. there was no way we could afford this trip. but, come october 15, i had that leave form turned in. first in line for the week of thanksgiving. and promptly forgot all about it.

in the past 14 days, ticket prices, hotel prices and even rental car prices dropped like a rock. we prolly could have afforded the trip now, had we not run into numerous unexpected medical expenses and some new car parts. oh well.

i have been sick off & on for the past five weeks. my supervisor mentioned my week of leave and asked if i realized that it had been approved. i generously scratched my name off every day - except thanksgiving. there was no point in taking off a full week when we weren't going on the trip. i got sicker. and sicker. and landed in the hospital the day we were to take off. seems i hadn't been sick off & on. i was just flat-out sick the whole time. my white blood cell count was off the hook, i needed IV meds and bedrest. wanna guess how long? five days....right through thanksgiving day.

i had to cancel my participation in parent-teacher conferences, a class party and a field trip, along with being out of work for three work days. bed rest is a hard concept for a mom of four to wrap her head around. but apparently i have been sick enough to actually get in the bed every few hours. i really needed it. i even broke thanksgiving prep into two days, baking ahead a lot of things so i can tend to the turkey and last minute details, as well as putting up the christmas tree. i can't believe it all got done.

on our menu for today is pumpkin cream cheese coffeecake for breakfast, a roasted 14-pound turkey with homemade sage stuffing, creamy baked mashed potatoes, broccoli & cauliflower in cheese sauce, green bean casserole, pumpkin-sage cloverleaf rolls, (2) pumpkin pies and pear crumble pie. the pre-lit tree is up and ready for decor, while the turkey roasts. and this year i feel i have so much to be thankful for, after my week of recovery.

i am thankful for my husband, my rock, who forced me to get back into bed, and played the part of my minion bringing me tea, medicine, extra blankies and foot rubs, among all else this past week. our housemate, brent, for picking up kids, comforting them when they were scared for me, and buying pizza friday night so i could bury my head in my pillow and ignore the world for the pain in my head. my four fabulous kids who feel like the world is going to end if mommy doesn't make them lunch, but will accept a substitute dad and brent in a pinch. my friends who have called, texted, and emailed to check up on me - especially the ones who stepped up and re-arranged their schedules to take my place at school events this week. it's nice to know that i'm missed. and my trixie-dog, for putting her chin on my bed and waiting patiently for her scratch while i slept.

there's nothing like being sick-sick to help one realize the joy of normalcy. i'll be back in the swing on friday. i've missed you all, too.

Confection in the box

{{names have been ever-so slightly changed. but if you work with me, you'll know who they are.}}

muffled snickers.

i can tell that the sound i hear is of several people covering choked laughs behind cupped hands, faces turned slightly away.

a smile plays at the corner of my mouth in anticipation of being let in on the joke as i step through the gate. a brief moment of cold fear slices through me in hopes that i am not the joke. my hands automatically check zipper and buttons to make sure nothing is presenting itself that should not. uniform is intact. i casually walk through the checkpoint to the time clock and swipe my card through the slot, waiting for the green blink and small chirp letting me know that i am officially here. the time is 0342 on a saturday.

i turn around to face my workplace, to greet my friends and survey the passengers already crowding the first lane.

oh.

my.

god.

whatinhell is in the box with maxine?

my eyes, unbidden, follow the flesh in form from ultra-processed-drying-bad-dye-job crown to flat-footed-brown-running-socks-over-fishnet toes.

my jaw drops in disbelief. snickers turn to outright guffaws. from other passengers.

s/he presents him/herself as a she. which explains maxine in the box. but it does not explain whatinhell is in the box with her. by now i have control of my facial features. a few of the men nearby are gagging. i have officially dubbed her "Confection." all i hafta say is that s/he really needs to hang on to that day job. the get-up for her night job is not cutting it.

turning and walking from the right to the backside, which is all i care to see of this particular Confection, her hair falls limply to her shoulders, covering far more flesh than the actual stitches of clothing cinched about her ample form. the blood-red corset oozes breasts like a mottled, pus-filled wound, her skin sporting a jagged almost digitized pattern of freckles. or age spots. or, maybe body paint - attempting leopard spots?? down under, rolls of chub squirm from their holding pen as she twists and holds her arms up. the hand held metal detector screams around the metal support frame of the corset. the gauzy, filmy, filthy swatch of black lace dangles from the edges of the corset in a sad attempt to become some kind of skirt. it fails miserably. as the hand held metal detector follows the fishnets down to the grubby brown stained running socks, i overhear a snippet of conversation from over the top of the glass enclosure.

"...just got off work from my part time job and had to come right here to catch this plane..."

no. really? one of her thigh high go-go boots falls haphazardly from the x-ray belt and sighs in a heap on the floor. "...and what exactly is a private screening?" asks the Confection timidly, as maxine and a supervisor, donna, lead her out of the public eye to resolve a particularly difficult alarm.

as she crosses my path, i can clearly see nip as her girls struggle to free themselves from the iron grip of the corset. eyeliner painted on thick and exaggerated, lipliner accentuating a not-quite-feminine mouth, glistening under glitter and gloss. with every flat-footed step, her breasts jiggle dangerously close to spilling out completely. maxine's face is cold and solemn as stone. donna is a half-step behind the Confection, eyes rolling and head shaking. behind the trio wafts a smell. not a scent of perfume, or lotion, or body spray. not a trace of sweat or body heat. it is a smell. it fills the nose and leaves no doubt behind as to whatinhell that stank could be. it reeks of wet garbage, armpit, and putrefaction reminiscent of, well, someone who has just left their part time night job.

woof.

and my day hasn't even started yet.

chocolate hazelnut truffles

it was a day.

we, in general and out of character today, received many compliments from passengers on how organized we were; i got a few for being courteous. yay us. i am focusing on those ever-so-brief and never documented bright spots to end my workday. and then there's the Big Blemish of the morning, trying to tarnish it all.

when someone gets angry with me for their failings, i am supposed to take it. i am actually trained to take a step back and empathize with the person who is angry with me and calling my intelligence into question. i am supposed to think about the day they are having, and suppose that they have a great deal of stress on their minds, which is causing them to act in an unfriendly manner. regardless of the comments raining upon my head, i must be nice. whether my day is going well or not is never an issue. no matter how many passengers tell me that *I* am personally ridiculous for creating the standards of the airline industry, no matter how low my blood sugar dips while waiting for the line to lessen to go on a much-needed break, no matter how many people accuse me of stealing their belongings (that they have voluntarily surrendered to me, have either checked at the ticket counter or left at home), a tight smile graces my lips and the words, "have a nice flight" tumble from my mouth, unbidden at times.

i received compliments from both a passenger in passing and a fellow officer, one that i have watched to emulate dealing with difficult passengers. they both said i did a good job keeping a cool head with the angry "Cruise Couple," who were, of course, late for their flight. funny. i was seething and seeing red. it didn't feel like i kept a cool head at all. but i guess on the exterior i simply went cold as stone and maintained an icy bearing that got me through without managing to bite the passengers or bite off any of the comments running through my head. because there were some doozies in there.

the line was long. it generally is, late-morning. a lady was getting the standard patdown required for processing for additional screening. i got the attention of my fellow officer and told her to send the passenger to me so i could get started with the additional testing of her luggage. the woman dropped into a chair with an annoyed sigh, then rolled her eyes and flung her hands into the air when told she didn't have to sit down. i asked her to identify her property without touching it and she promptly began touching her bags and trying to lift them. i reminded her that she should not touch her belongings before i finished screening them. i again asked which items were hers. she gestured vaguely at the x-ray and stated, "all of them." i was looking at three bins, containing several sweaters and small bags and two pairs of shoes and two suitcases. i again asked her to clarify which items were hers. she answered me the same way, touching all of the bins and pointing to a suitcase half out of the x-ray saying, "mine mine mine mine, all these are mine." i reminded her a third time to not touch her belongings until they were cleared by me.

another officer picked up the second suitcase and asked, "is this one yours as well?" at which point she snarled, "no. i said all these were mine!" i stopped what i was doing and asked if she was traveling with anyone else. she flung her hand in the direction of a man behind her and said, "YES! my HUSBAND." as if he were wearing a sign.

i hmmm'd and felt my lips pressing into my annoyed face. "with all these items and extra shoes, can you see why i asked you to be more specific? i wanted to make sure that i retrieved the correct belongings. do i have everything yet? thank you, please follow me."

Hubs joined Wifey. i began the standard examination and testing of the passenger luggage and assorted belongings. behind me, Hubs reached around me and tried to grab his shoes. i reminded the couple, since Hubs hadn't heard the prior three warnings, "please do not touch your belongings until i have finished screening them. i will have to send them back through the x-ray again if you touch them again." as the machine cleared Wifey's shoes, i handed them back to her.

"that wasn't screening?" she asked. i was confused. "that wasn't screening, what we just did through the x-ray? if that wasn't screening then why bother? when can i have my shoes back?"

"ma'am," i tempered, "your airline selected you for additional screening. x-raying your property is the first step of that process. getting a patdown is the second." i answered several other snide questions one from the left, one from the right for the next five minutes. "they printed a code on your ticket to let us know." "they don't tell us why they select their customers; although there is a short list of reasons we have come to understand, but nothing official is communicated to us." "i have a set of procedures i must follow to inform you airline that you have been carefully screened before boarding your aircraft." "if you wish to ask your airline about their selection process, i suggest you seek out an airline representative." "yes, that might entail going back to the ticket counter. you might have an 800 number on your ticket. i'm not sure." "i have not charged you any fees today, ma'am. i do not work for any airline."

in between sniping at me and sarcastically asking if they could have each and every item that i finished screening, i discovered that they quite literally missed the boat at the port of baltimore. Wifey had "had a bad feeling about all this" that they should have listenend to earlier. (whatever that meant.) they booked the first flight to their cruise line's next port destination to see if they could board there. the flight they booked at the ticket counter was scheduled to depart in less than 20 minutes. Wifey had to pee. they had been charged a large amount of money for heavy bags that they never intended to check on an airplane. i imagine they were pretty stressed out.

if it weren't for all the hurtful remarks and general ass-holish-ness, i might have felt sorry for them. what an awful way to start a vacation. and then she said it.

"you are going to make us miss our flight. we already missed our cruise and you are delaying us."

i stopped what i was doing. i looked at the grey wall in front of me and blinked slowly, once. i inhaled the warm, stale, recirculated air of our checkpoint. i plastered on the fakest barbie smile i could muster. i raised my voice slightly so that other officers could hear me, and maybe flag down another to assist me or get a supervisor.

"i have not delayed you in the slightest. would you like me to fetch you a supervisor? i would be more than happy to stop what i am doing right now and have someone else assist you. of course, they would have to start all over. i am working on your belongings no slower, no faster than anyone else. i genuinely want to get you to the gate for the flight that you are late for. i've been here since 0345. i'm not late. i can be more thorough for you, if that is what you really want me to do. if you want to make that flight, please step back and let me finish my job."

at which point, Hubs says, "will you just shut up?? let her finish so we can make this flight. you're always so negative!!!"

my hands shook in anger. i controlled my breathing. i finished up their belongings. i glanced at my watch. less than 7 minutes from start to finish. i placed the last suitcase on the floor, flipped the handle up out of habit and turned my back on them, biting out, "i sincerely hope you make it to your flight on time." in sotto voce, i finished, "because i certainly won't be helping you make another one."

i earned my chocolates today.

chocolate hazelnut truffles

 it was a day.

we, in general and out of character today, received many compliments from passengers on how organized we were; i got a few for being courteous. yay us. i am focusing on those ever-so-brief and never documented bright spots to end my workday. and then there's the Big Blemish of the morning, trying to tarnish it all.

when someone gets angry with me for their failings, i am supposed to take it. i am actually trained to take a step back and empathize with the person who is angry with me and calling my intelligence into question. i am supposed to think about the day they are having, and suppose that they have a great deal of stress on their minds, which is causing them to act in an unfriendly manner. regardless of the comments raining upon my head, i must be nice. whether my day is going well or not is never an issue. no matter how many passengers tell me that *I* am personally ridiculous for creating the standards of the airline industry, no matter how low my blood sugar dips while waiting for the line to lessen to go on a much-needed break, no matter how many people accuse me of stealing their belongings (that they have voluntarily surrendered to me, have either checked at the ticket counter or left at home), a tight smile graces my lips and the words, "have a nice flight" tumble from my mouth, unbidden at times.

i received compliments from both a passenger in passing and a fellow officer, one that i have watched to emulate dealing with difficult passengers. they both said i did a good job keeping a cool head with the angry "Cruise Couple," who were, of course, late for their flight. funny. i was seething and seeing red. it didn't feel like i kept a cool head at all. but i guess on the exterior i simply went cold as stone and maintained an icy bearing that got me through without managing to bite the passengers or bite off any of the comments running through my head. because there were some doozies in there.

the line was long. it generally is, late-morning. a lady was getting the standard patdown required for processing for additional screening. i got the attention of my fellow officer and told her to send the passenger to me so i could get started with the additional testing of her luggage. the woman dropped into a chair with an annoyed sigh, then rolled her eyes and flung her hands into the air when told she didn't have to sit down. i asked her to identify her property without touching it and she promptly began touching her bags and trying to lift them. i reminded her that she should not touch her belongings before i finished screening them. i again asked which items were hers. she gestured vaguely at the x-ray and stated, "all of them." i was looking at three bins, containing several sweaters and small bags and two pairs of shoes and two suitcases. i again asked her to clarify which items were hers. she answered me the same way, touching all of the bins and pointing to a suitcase half out of the x-ray saying, "mine mine mine mine, all these are mine." i reminded her a third time to not touch her belongings until they were cleared by me.

another officer picked up the second suitcase and asked, "is this one yours as well?" at which point she snarled, "no. i said all these were mine!" i stopped what i was doing and asked if she was traveling with anyone else. she flung her hand in the direction of a man behind her and said, "YES! my HUSBAND." as if he were wearing a sign.

i hmmm'd and felt my lips pressing into my annoyed face. "with all these items and extra shoes, can you see why i asked you to be more specific? i wanted to make sure that i retrieved the correct belongings. do i have everything yet? thank you, please follow me."

Hubs joined Wifey. i began the standard examination and testing of the passenger luggage and assorted belongings. behind me, Hubs reached around me and tried to grab his shoes. i reminded the couple, since Hubs hadn't heard the prior three warnings, "please do not touch your belongings until i have finished screening them. i will have to send them back through the x-ray again if you touch them again." as the machine cleared Wifey's shoes, i handed them back to her.

"that wasn't screening?" she asked. i was confused. "that wasn't screening, what we just did through the x-ray? if that wasn't screening then why bother? when can i have my shoes back?"

"ma'am," i tempered, "your airline selected you for additional screening. x-raying your property is the first step of that process. getting a patdown is the second." i answered several other snide questions one from the left, one from the right for the next five minutes. "they printed a code on your ticket to let us know." "they don't tell us why they select their customers; although there is a short list of reasons we have come to understand, but nothing official is communicated to us." "i have a set of procedures i must follow to inform you airline that you have been carefully screened before boarding your aircraft." "if you wish to ask your airline about their selection process, i suggest you seek out an airline representative." "yes, that might entail going back to the ticket counter. you might have an 800 number on your ticket. i'm not sure." "i have not charged you any fees today, ma'am. i do not work for any airline."

in between sniping at me and sarcastically asking if they could have each and every item that i finished screening, i discovered that they quite literally missed the boat at the port of baltimore. Wifey had "had a bad feeling about all this" that they should have listenend to earlier. (whatever that meant.) they booked the first flight to their cruise line's next port destination to see if they could board there. the flight they booked at the ticket counter was scheduled to depart in less than 20 minutes. Wifey had to pee. they had been charged a large amount of money for heavy bags that they never intended to check on an airplane. i imagine they were pretty stressed out.

if it weren't for all the hurtful remarks and general ass-holish-ness, i might have felt sorry for them. what an awful way to start a vacation. and then she said it.

"you are going to make us miss our flight. we already missed our cruise and you are delaying us."

i stopped what i was doing. i looked at the grey wall in front of me and blinked slowly, once. i inhaled the warm, stale, recirculated air of our checkpoint. i plastered on the fakest barbie smile i could muster. i raised my voice slightly so that other officers could hear me, and maybe flag down another to assist me or get a supervisor.

"i have not delayed you in the slightest. would you like me to fetch you a supervisor? i would be more than happy to stop what i am doing right now and have someone else assist you. of course, they would have to start all over. i am working on your belongings no slower, no faster than anyone else. i genuinely want to get you to the gate for the flight that you are late for. i've been here since 0345. i'm not late. i can be more thorough for you, if that is what you really want me to do. if you want to make that flight, please step back and let me finish my job."

at which point, Hubs says, "will you just shut up?? let her finish so we can make this flight. you're always so negative!!!"

my hands shook in anger. i controlled my breathing. i finished up their belongings. i glanced at my watch. less than 7 minutes from start to finish. i placed the last suitcase on the floor, flipped the handle up out of habit and turned my back on them, biting out, "i sincerely hope you make it to your flight on time." in sotto voce, i finished, "because i certainly won't be helping you make another one."

i earned my chocolates today.

medieval mud-fest

the day began wrapped in a cloak of warm fog. i rejoiced in the lightening sky all morning; the rain was clearing off and we would have a gorgeous day out in the no-doubt moist woodlands for the renaissance faire. just as i set off from work, the sky darkened again and abruptly opened the heavens upon us all. not to worry. we have rain slickers and wellingtons (boots to all you colonists) a-plenty. well, i opted for sandals, knowing that my feet would be wet. and it poured the whole journey to the festival grounds. good. get it all out of it’s system now!

we were greeted by costumed lords and ladies, advising us that the king of france delivered abundant gifts of mud, plenty for all to be had. and how. we tramped right through the muck, unlike the unprepared who tip-toed in their bright white (for now) street shoes along the very edge of edges of the shops. we pointed and laughed. we took in the shows, laughing at the “hey nunnie-nunnie!” song about the constipated men in the bible and marveling at the jugglers and their knives, glinting in the afternoon cloud-shine. we ate chicken and steak and cheesecake on stakes. and no one poked their eyes out because we are well-behaved savages who eat sitting down. we suffered not one, not two, not three, but FOUR more torrential downpours that afternoon. after the first one, people began to leave in droves. BYE! good riddance, weenies! leaves more dry space for the rest of us! fortunately the temperatures were moderate enough that we were not cold. as far as rainy weekends go, we could not have asked for nicer weather.

we mucked about, spending far too much money on our fun, but not caring this time. how often do you get to wander around in the rain and mud, watching your imps love the fact that they are filthy and allowed to be so? lars enjoyed the mud far more than the rest of us, leaping into and out of puddles and bogs the whole day. he was mud up to mid-thigh. the girls all got henna tattoos, the boys got new sword/shield combos, all the kids got to take a ride on a pony, and we grownups had some quiet moments while the kids played in the wee bairns tot lot. at one point i just gave up and carried my sandals. really. what is the point of sandals in the mud? we ran into a few acquaintances from work and scouts, finished up the day with warm apple dumplings and cinna-buns and headed home into a clear sunset.

how ironic.

i have put up all the slide shows i have neglected to put together since june. you're welcome to view them all at http://katerooni.slide.com/

*some* swearing? not when it comes to money.

I’ve been away.

To save you the boring (and probably flawed) math equations, (I won’t pretend that I’m good at balancing our budget) I will simply say that we’ve been working our asses off. The raise and unexpected bonus on Tad’s side, and the increased hours on my side have merely done one thing: kept us from going completely underwater.

Our grocery bill has gone up – almost double – in one year. ONE YEAR. We spend one of my entire paychecks feeding our family every month. Fuel expenses for our cars and our home electricity and comfort have doubled in one year. ONE YEAR. My other entire paycheck every month pays for those. We lowered our thermostat to 65 degrees last winter to save money on heating expenses. We raised our thermostat to 83 degrees this summer to save money on a/c expenses. Did you just read that? Our bills went higher despite our discomfort.

We scrimped and saved for more than 2 years for a family vacation this past summer. We stayed within our budget, skipping dessert and canceling a few excursions when we spent more than we planned.

But do you know what we have not done? Defaulted on our loans. We have kept current. We haven’t eaten dinner “out” in a month. Unless you count fast food. I shopped online and found bargain basement prices for my kids’ birthday prezzies. We do without. We pay our bills and try to have fun with the pittance that is left over.

So please, somebody, please explain to me, Joanna Q. Public, why the fuck I should give a good goddamn if the rich have dropped the ball.

I’m waiting.



The private financial institutions that decided it would be a good idea to give out mortgages like cheap Christmas candy to any and all who could sign their own names, (regardless of whether or not they could prove they could actually pay for said mortgage) now need public government funding (provided by whom, children? me? a responsible account holder???) to balance their books. Fan-Fucking-Tastic.

Spread that government cheese this-a-way. I was in debt first.

You know what those companies would do if I couldn’t pay? They would take away my possessions and sell them to pay for my mortgage. My ass would be out on the street without even so much as a backward glance. I think there are more than a few fat fucks who need to be sold. Aerosmith really had it right when they said, “Eat the rich; there’s only one thing that they’re good for...” Take that $700 billion balance out of the paychecks of the boards of directors and move on. They screwed up, make them pay for it.

Our elected government officials are stepping back and asking for more information. I am floored. For the first time in a very long time, I applaud their actions. Go get that info, dudes. Ask those questions. Hang onto that caution; it’s pretty windy up there on Capitol Hill. “One key demand (being made by our lawmakers) is that Wall Street executives not be allowed to walk away from the mess with multimillion-dollar severance packages.” [ABC2news.com] Demand that those wall street execs get kicked to the curb with nothing but the shirts on their backs. Severance packages for failure? Kiss my dirty broke ass.

“The legislation the administration is promoting would allow the government to buy bad mortgages and other rotten assets held by troubled banks and financial institutions. Getting those debts off their books should bolster those companies' balance sheets, making them more inclined to lend and easing one of the biggest choke points in the credit crisis. If the plan works, it should help lift a major weight off the national economy that is already sputtering.” [Jeannine Aversa, AP Economics Writer]

Hold the mayo. So, the gub’mint is going to bail them out so they can lend more money? To whom???? I certainly can’t afford any more credit, especially since my taxes are going to go up to pay for all the slobs who didn’t pay for their homes in the first damn place. And dudes, it gets better.

“Sen. Jim Bunning, R-Ky., said, ‘This massive bailout is not a solution. It is financial socialism and it's un-American.’” [Ms. Aversa again] You’re damn right it’s un-American. Can you believe it? I’m siding with a Republican. Somebody take a picture.

“Paulson was asked repeatedly why taxpayers should accept the burdens of a bailout.

‘You worry about taxpayers being on the hook?’ he replied at one point. ‘Guess what — they're already on the hook.’ Paulson suggested that the fallout from the credit crisis would hit almost everyone in the pocketbook unless forceful action was taken. Moreover, the flawed and outdated regulatory system, which didn't catch abuses, needs to be overhauled, he said.” [Ms. Aversa again]

So, wait a minute......I’m fucked either way.





I say let them sink. They would absolutely do the same for me.

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.