The Karmatic Wedgie from Hell

Now, I'm not a big believer in destiny and fate and all that stuff. But sometimes when the going gets tough, I'm extremely glad that everything is not just a bunch of random occurrences and that whatever happens will work out for the greater good--even if its not the immediate good. If I was one of those really intellectual theologists, I would call this a "period of spiritual growth" or a "test of my faith". Whatever. I'm not and I'll be perfectly honest and say that cancer truly sucks.

I was too little to remember the first time Dad had cancer. Well, I'm pretty sure I'm going to remember it this round. After fifteen years of clean health, guess what shows up in his colon again? Hello, Mr. Cancerous Polyp!

Now, I'm not particularly worried. Actually, I'm more annoyed than anything else. I don't like seeing everyone freaking out and, when I tell everyone my dad's cancer is back, they inevitably freak out. Sometimes I feel like I'm not allowed to freak out because then everything will collapse, which makes me even more annoyed. Cancer sucks and not just for the patient.

Case in point, my mother broke out in shingles because of the stress. And on top of everything, the plumping is doing another one of its tri-monthly freak-outs so we spent a good part of the morning playing "Save the Books!". (It did have to sploosh down the wall with all the shelves. )

Strange as it may seem, a good part of my irritation is due to the fact of how normal disasters like this are. I can just imagine the conversations our friends and relatives have:

*This is a fictional conversation and none of the events referenced have happened before. Hopeful they never will.*

"Uh-oh! The Selby's barn caught on fire! They're going to have to stay over a couple of days."

"But it isn't the barn metal?"

"Selby's, remember?"

"Oh, right. I'll go dig out the spare sheets."

I'm exaggerating. A little. But as my friends will testify, we generally have about two incidents a year. I'm hoping this one counts for at least until I graduate college.

Start your engines!

Today was a milestone in my life; I finally passed my driver's license test. I am very, very happy to that I didn't fail this time. This partly due to the fact getting my license is very important to me and partly because I would have had to wait 30 days before I took the test again. I look forward to being able to assist my family and friends with this new skill I have learned.

Okay, that's enough sappy stuff. Diatribe time!

Almost everyone I've talked to has told me that the supervisors on the test are crazy. I was lucky enough that I had a fairly sane tester, but still there were a few things that just annoyed the crap out of me with one in particular. Potholes.

Every time I get in the car, I drive at least three miles across a road that looks like a dinosaur on a pogo stick has been bouncing on it. Plus, segments of the road aren't even properly paved--at least not in the sense of cement and little yellow and white lines. I know what a pot-hole is and how to avoid getting rattled around in the car like the last lonely jelly-bean in the tin.

So, the last thing I want is someone grabbing the wheel when because of a tiny dent in the road. I wanted to turn around and scream at the instructor, but even a hothead like myself isn't about to yell at the person who can deem you a road hazard.

Now, I understand that I'm slightly biased, but if there are any driver's test supervisors reading this then please listen to this heartfelt plea on behalf of anyone taken the test. Please, please, please don't grab the wheel from us unless we're about to a) hit something or b) hit something. There are few things more unnerving is someone grabbing the steering wheel and yanking it out from your control. Not only is our initial reaction "Oh my gosh! Car out of control! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!", but the second reaction we have is "Personal space! Too close!"

All right, I've ranted. That's it for now.