Trash Day

Today is trash day. The reason I know this is because my dogs are following me everywhere. They both have garbage truck phobia.
If it’s trash day, it must be Wednesday. Mondays I know by the PDA chime, it reminds me about piano practice. Same thing with Thursdays, the alert for workshop chat. Fridays, I just know. People like me feel Fridays.

If I could speak dog, I’d tell these pups not to follow me for I am not a natural born leader. True, I was a Girl Scout leader one year, but that didn’t work out. I couldn’t have both “Girl Scouts USA” and “F the President” stickers on my bumper. Oh, and there was the incident where I had the Girl Scouts knock a hole in my living room sheetrock with a hammer. I thought it would be a great way to earn a “Ms Fixit” badge. It was all about teaching them how to patch sheetrock. It was an unusual badge to earn, we wanted unusual, we got it. I don’t think the parents could get past the destroy part, though. They sure quit begging me to lead this troop.

You’d think by now my family would have this figured out, my lack of leadership skills. They haven’t. They keep asking me to put together these trips. I can’t plan worth a crap. Like this time:

Them: Where are we going?
Me: Venezuela.
Them: Why?
Me: Cheapest tickets and we can leave tomorrow.
Them: What are we going to do?
Me: Let me call my cousin’s wife, she’s from there.

So, a couple of days later we are lost as all hell in the Venezuealan jungles because we did not have a good map. We didn’t have a good map because we didn’t know the Spanish word for “map”. Hey, I’d learned a little of German once for a trip to Germany and it was useless, they all spoke English. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

What happens next seems like a miracle. We stumble upon a German colony, a town with alpine homes, just like in Germany. Yes, in Venezuela. And the road signs are in German. We stop at a store to get food and gas and I’ll be damn, German is quite useful here. And of all things, the reason these German people are out here is their ancestors came as mapmakers during the 1800’s, stayed, and settled the area.

Mapmakers.


Photo: Venezuelatuya

Just what we needed. Maps.

We found out later how to say it in Spanish. “Plano.” Oh yeah, that’s funny.

So. I’m not a leader. Or a follower. One day I’ll tell you about the quicksand.

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17 thoughts on “Trash Day

  1. I’m good right in the middle of a disaster. That could account for my lack of planning, I just don’t fear the possibility of things falling apart.
    Nah, we’re pretty spontaneous here.

  2. I do not know another human being who, in need of a map in the Venzuelan jungle, could stumble into a village in which the inhabitants were map makers and spoke the only other language he or she spoke besides English that was not Spanish.

    You crack me up.

  3. Yeah, minutes before we came upon that village everyone in the car wanted to kill me.
    Me? I’m laughing because I love being lost.
    Every single trip we take has a “how are you going to get us out of this one?” moment.

  4. wawawiwa!!! this is a great write here. The German map makers made me laugh. It reminds me of the time I took my annual sail around the world journey and took a wrong turn at in the Indian Ocean and wound up in Madagascar! I was trying to get to Chili!!!

  5. I work more than 50 hours a week. Writing is working. It is hard work. I am also raising my children. I have been raising children since I am a child myself.
    Yes. I am lucky. I know how lucky I am. I give myself credit for my hard work, too. It may not look like I’m working because I don’t tend to whine about it.

  6. What a trip. heehee lots of chuckles! Please do tell us about the quicksand.

    BTW, you sound like you’d be a really cool Scout leader. Would love to have seen a F the President and Girls Scouts USA badge on your car.

  7. Venezuela was one of our favorite trips because of all the follies. We got last minute tickets and just went. We knew we were in trouble right at the airport. We got into this cab and the whole dashboard was missing (stolen). The driver unlocked this thick chain which had his steering wheel and gas pedal locked down (crude version of the Club). He passed every red light and took us so far out we were certain he was going to roll us.

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