We went to court today, so I could appeal the suspension of my license. At the end of it all, I realized that 1) ignorance will screw you, and 2) everything you do has consequences not only for yourself, but for those around you.
The PennDOT lawyer came into the courtroom, introduced himself, took attendance by reading down the docket list and calling our names, noting with disgust those who didn't even bother to show up. It was actually a casual thing, since only some of the court staffers were there. The judge wasn't even in the room. Some people brought their own attorneys; others (including us) did not. Then the PennDOT lawyer called people up individually to sit at the table with him, review our cases and hear our defense.
The first person he called up was an older black woman who had apparently let her insurance lapse. We were sitting right in back of the table, so we could hear a lot of what was being said. She was trying to wrap her head around the situation and get some guidance as to what to do. Unfortunately, the PennDOT lawyer was not there for her guidance. He was pretty rude to her, in fact.
"Look, this is your case," he said. "You filed this appeal, and you need to prove why your license shouldn't be suspended."
Oh, shit, I thought. He's going to be a total hardass.
When he was finished with her--which took all of about five minutes--she got up from the table, looked at us squarely, and said, "Good luck" with as much contempt as she could muster.
This was not boding well.
After that, two other attorneys present went up to the table and started negotiating for their clients. When that was out of the way, the attorneys--who knew each other--started chatting about her tan that she got at the beach. And then she started whining about the fact that her dad has a beach bungalow, but it was up to her to mow the lawn and provide general upkeep. Then she joked that it was something she needed to do if she wanted to see her inheritence.
My mouth fell open.
Seriously?! I thought. You're talking about beach houses and inheritences in front of people who don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of?! Classy!
The PennDOT lawyer called my name. My husband went up with me, to provide moral support and fill in any gaps of information needed. In a nutshell, I was unwittingly driving without registration tags, and when the officer ran my license and plate, we both discovered that the registration had been suspended. Without thinking we had any other alternative--I mean, I couldn't say what the cop told me wasn't true--I signed a guilty plea, and my husband and I paid the tickets.
"So, you pled guilty, and now you have a conviction," the lawyer said.
Whoa! What?! I thought to myself. A conviction? I have a criminal record now?! Oh. My. God. Why didn't anyone tell me? I know it sounds naive, but I honestly thought paying the tickets would take care of the situation.
"Now you have a conviction," the lawyer went on, "and that automatically means your license gets suspended for three months. I'll give you a two-month continuance, so you can talk to a lawyer and see if you can appeal the conviction. If you don't do anything, you have to surrender your license at the next court date."
As it happened, we were able to talk to another lawyer who was there. I was past the 30-day point from when I pled guilty, so my only option was to appeal the conviction, even though I'd already paid the tickets. He thought I had a good chance at retaining my license and clearing my name.
But it would cost us $1,500. Which we obviously don't have.
He gave me his card, in case I wanted him to represent me. When he walked away, my husband told me he'd call the legal aid services he has through his job and see if they could help.
In the meantime, I can still drive, at least for the next two months, until the next court date.
The effect of having my license suspended is that of the two part-time jobs I currently have, I will not be able to get to one of them, if the shift is during regular business hours, because my husband will have to drive me there. Also, he will have to run all the errands and drive me wherever I need to go, like the supermarket. And he'll have to drive the boys wherever they need to go. I will be pretty much housebound. For. Three. Months.
How do I handle this? And what is it teaching my boys? I could roll over and surrender my license now, without even trying to appeal, but then I'd have a conviction on my record. I could try to appeal, but where will the money to do that come from? I was going to look for a full-time job to make more money, but unless I work from home, I won't be able to do that. Which lands us right back to the money problem, which is already affecting all of us, including the dog.
It is, admittedly, a hot mess, and I'm feeling stuck and unable to move on with making any kind of positive changes.
I will have to make every effort to break through this inertia, because it's too dangerous to stay stuck.
Please send me your positive vibes over the next couple of months. I'm going to need them.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Long Time, No Type
Well, slap me with a wet noodle! It's been six months since I put something up!
Even though we're in Pennsylvania, we're definitely experiencing the dog days of summer here--lots of heat, lots of humidity, lots of air conditioning.
Also, the boys have been out of camp for two weeks, and there's only so much tv/video games/computer/picking on your brother you can do.
It's been a bit of a crappy spring and summer for us, mostly because of income lost when both my jobs' hours got cut for the summer, but also because of car problems. Long story short, a traffic stop led to finding out our registration had been suspended, which led to the car being towed, two citations, being unable to drive for two months, to a letter from the Department of Transportation attempting to suspend my license for three months, to an appeal of said suspension, to a court date on Thursday to plead our case. (I know what you're thinking: "Really, Donna? That was the short story?" As short as I could make it, folks!)
A lot of money was lost/spent because of these two incidents, and the third and final straw was when lovely Miss Jolie, our four-year-old Irish Setter mix, was diagnosed with severe hip dysplasia three weeks ago. Temporary solution: Rimadyl. Permanent solution: a $1,700 surgery. Needless to say, she'll be on the Rimadyl for a while.
We came to the painful decision of not taking the vacation at Myrtle Beach we had planned. Even though we were doing it as cheaply as we could, we still would not have been able to afford it. We hated having to tell the kids, but after some tears (mainly mine and the Lego Kid's), Teenager and LK actually took it pretty well.
So now, we're trying to plan day trips. The one trip that is a certainty is the Franklin Institute, a cool science museum in Philadelphia. Husband won four free tickets at Employee Appreciation Day. Thank you, Husband's employer!!!!!
I've also been looking at a PA mid-week trip, but we'll have to see if our budget will allow it. If not, I'm sure we can come up with some other fun ideas.
As much as this situation sucks, here's the wonderful thing that came out of it: I realized that my boys are resilient, amazing human beings. Despite everything, they're pretty happy and well adjusted. They know they have a roof over their heads (such as it is) and food on the table. They know they have the love, comfort and protection of their parents. Husband and I are a tight unit, and this situation is not going to knock us down.
So, here's hoping that all of you make it through your dog days, and that happier times are ahead for all of us in the fall.
Even though we're in Pennsylvania, we're definitely experiencing the dog days of summer here--lots of heat, lots of humidity, lots of air conditioning.
Also, the boys have been out of camp for two weeks, and there's only so much tv/video games/computer/picking on your brother you can do.
It's been a bit of a crappy spring and summer for us, mostly because of income lost when both my jobs' hours got cut for the summer, but also because of car problems. Long story short, a traffic stop led to finding out our registration had been suspended, which led to the car being towed, two citations, being unable to drive for two months, to a letter from the Department of Transportation attempting to suspend my license for three months, to an appeal of said suspension, to a court date on Thursday to plead our case. (I know what you're thinking: "Really, Donna? That was the short story?" As short as I could make it, folks!)
A lot of money was lost/spent because of these two incidents, and the third and final straw was when lovely Miss Jolie, our four-year-old Irish Setter mix, was diagnosed with severe hip dysplasia three weeks ago. Temporary solution: Rimadyl. Permanent solution: a $1,700 surgery. Needless to say, she'll be on the Rimadyl for a while.
We came to the painful decision of not taking the vacation at Myrtle Beach we had planned. Even though we were doing it as cheaply as we could, we still would not have been able to afford it. We hated having to tell the kids, but after some tears (mainly mine and the Lego Kid's), Teenager and LK actually took it pretty well.
So now, we're trying to plan day trips. The one trip that is a certainty is the Franklin Institute, a cool science museum in Philadelphia. Husband won four free tickets at Employee Appreciation Day. Thank you, Husband's employer!!!!!
I've also been looking at a PA mid-week trip, but we'll have to see if our budget will allow it. If not, I'm sure we can come up with some other fun ideas.
As much as this situation sucks, here's the wonderful thing that came out of it: I realized that my boys are resilient, amazing human beings. Despite everything, they're pretty happy and well adjusted. They know they have a roof over their heads (such as it is) and food on the table. They know they have the love, comfort and protection of their parents. Husband and I are a tight unit, and this situation is not going to knock us down.
So, here's hoping that all of you make it through your dog days, and that happier times are ahead for all of us in the fall.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Life, Unplugged
I did something the other week that shocked and amazed my family: I unplugged. For one day. No computer, no tv.
It was everything I dreamed it would be.
I did not require this of anyone else. The kids, especially, need to be led into this slowly, and a new activity needs to be in its place. No, it was just for me.
While my husband played his records, The Lego Kid sat on the computer and Teenager played video games, I read, rested and generally relaxed. Oh, it was heaven!
I knew I needed to do something when I got the feeling that I was drowning in electronics -- primarily, moving back and forth between sitting in front of the tv and cycling endlessly through Facebook, e-mail, Etsy and Pinterest. I was connected, but I didn't feel, well, alive.
I didn't miss the technology. In fact, it was actually sort of calming. And grounding.
My husband and I have been talking about how we can unplug the entire family, perhaps even once a week. As I said, it would be harder on the boys, so we were kicking around the idea of day trips as a way of getting out of the house and away from the bright, shiny objects. I don't expect this idea to be met with happy faces from Teenager and The Lego Kid, but sometimes you have to feed your needs, not your wants.
It was everything I dreamed it would be.
I did not require this of anyone else. The kids, especially, need to be led into this slowly, and a new activity needs to be in its place. No, it was just for me.
While my husband played his records, The Lego Kid sat on the computer and Teenager played video games, I read, rested and generally relaxed. Oh, it was heaven!
I knew I needed to do something when I got the feeling that I was drowning in electronics -- primarily, moving back and forth between sitting in front of the tv and cycling endlessly through Facebook, e-mail, Etsy and Pinterest. I was connected, but I didn't feel, well, alive.
I didn't miss the technology. In fact, it was actually sort of calming. And grounding.
My husband and I have been talking about how we can unplug the entire family, perhaps even once a week. As I said, it would be harder on the boys, so we were kicking around the idea of day trips as a way of getting out of the house and away from the bright, shiny objects. I don't expect this idea to be met with happy faces from Teenager and The Lego Kid, but sometimes you have to feed your needs, not your wants.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Formerly Fiesty
My husband and I got to talking the other day about the early days of our relationship, when we worked at the same organization. It so happens that he kept some e-mails I had sent, and he was recently rereading them.
"You were fiesty," he said.
Those three words had the effect of a stereo needle skidding across a record. Did he just say "were"? As in past tense?
I picked up my wounded pride and headed to our bedroom to be alone and let these words sink in, as well as to seethe and drown in self-pity. A little while later my husband came in.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Sure," I shot back. "I'm just mourning my lost fiestiness."
"Look, I didn't mean it like that."
"How do you think that made me feel?"
"Well, you shouldn't feel that way."
"Don't you dare tell me how to feel!"
He slowly backed out of the room and shut the door. And while I was pissed at him, I was even madder at myself.
The truth is, friends, that I used to be a girl who got stuff done. I dragged my mom to financial aid nights, so I could find out how to pay for college. I studied in London for a semester and worked a full-time job while I was there. I paid for my wedding dress, as well as for a good chunk of the reception.
Fast forward, and now I realized I was immersed--possibly drowning--in my husband, my children, my debt, my inertia. And I felt utterly lost. My only defense was to hide myself away from it all, mostly by falling asleep on the couch in front of the tv after everyone else went to bed -- my "me" time, such as it was. But as long as I was no longer getting things done or actively participating in my own life, part of me was still gone.
I'm coming back, slowly. I'm trying to get organized and stay on top of things. I want to give everyone in my family--myself included--the time and TLC they deserve.
And that will take all the fiestiness I can muster.
"You were fiesty," he said.
Those three words had the effect of a stereo needle skidding across a record. Did he just say "were"? As in past tense?
I picked up my wounded pride and headed to our bedroom to be alone and let these words sink in, as well as to seethe and drown in self-pity. A little while later my husband came in.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Sure," I shot back. "I'm just mourning my lost fiestiness."
"Look, I didn't mean it like that."
"How do you think that made me feel?"
"Well, you shouldn't feel that way."
"Don't you dare tell me how to feel!"
He slowly backed out of the room and shut the door. And while I was pissed at him, I was even madder at myself.
The truth is, friends, that I used to be a girl who got stuff done. I dragged my mom to financial aid nights, so I could find out how to pay for college. I studied in London for a semester and worked a full-time job while I was there. I paid for my wedding dress, as well as for a good chunk of the reception.
Fast forward, and now I realized I was immersed--possibly drowning--in my husband, my children, my debt, my inertia. And I felt utterly lost. My only defense was to hide myself away from it all, mostly by falling asleep on the couch in front of the tv after everyone else went to bed -- my "me" time, such as it was. But as long as I was no longer getting things done or actively participating in my own life, part of me was still gone.
I'm coming back, slowly. I'm trying to get organized and stay on top of things. I want to give everyone in my family--myself included--the time and TLC they deserve.
And that will take all the fiestiness I can muster.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Soup's On!
I actually do like to cook. But you know how it is -- things get busy and you wind up slapping together some quick-fix, 15-minutes-from-stove-to-table thing that no one remembers an hour later.
Now that Fall is here and the weather has gotten a little cooler, my mind turns to planning warm, comforting foods that stick to your ribs and make your tummy happy. Stuff that simmers and fills the house with smells that put a smile on your face the minute you walk in the door.
I made just such a recipe tonight, and even Teenager loved it, and he's not a fan of tomato-based anything.
Ingredients
Now that Fall is here and the weather has gotten a little cooler, my mind turns to planning warm, comforting foods that stick to your ribs and make your tummy happy. Stuff that simmers and fills the house with smells that put a smile on your face the minute you walk in the door.
I made just such a recipe tonight, and even Teenager loved it, and he's not a fan of tomato-based anything.
Stuffed Pepper Soup
Ingredients
- 1
pound ground sirloin
- 1
green bell pepper, chopped
- 1 cup
finely diced onion
- 1 (29
ounce) can diced tomatoes
- 1 (15
ounce) can tomato sauce
- 1 (14
ounce) can chicken broth
- 1/4
teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/4
teaspoon dried sage
- salt
and pepper to taste
- 1 cup
white rice
1. In a large stock pot
brown ground meat. Drain fat and add pepper and onion. Cook until onion is
translucent, not letting them brown.
2. Add tomatoes, tomato
sauce, broth, thyme, sage and season with salt and pepper. Cover and simmer for
30 to 45 minutes, until peppers are tender.
3. In another saucepan
boil 2 cups water, and add rice. Cook until rice is tender and then add to
soup. Heat soup through and serve.
Makes 6 servings
Next, I plan on dragging out my bread machine. I've gotten mixed results with it, but I'll keep trying.
Monday, September 19, 2011
The Pitfalls of Instant Gratification
Don't get me wrong. I love eating out rather than cooking, browsing the Internet and watching OnDemand TV.
Still, there's something to be said for a homecooked meal, walking into a quiet library and waiting for reruns.
My kids don't get this.
My soon-to-be 14-year-old (we'll call him Teenager to protect the guilty) and my high-functioning autistic 9-year-old (let's call him the Lego Kid) are all about the now. And I get that. I was both 9 and 14 myself once. But some things--especially big-ticket items--really do have to wait. The kids have a problem with this.
Teenager wants a PlayStation 3 system. "Fine," my husband and I say. "Save your birthday and Christmas money." Teenager says he wants the system before Christmas.
Uh, no, that's not going to happen.
Aside from the fact that we just don't have the money for it, it's the principle of the thing. Wait. Have a plan. Save your money. Shop around.
My husband and I learned this lesson the hard way--some days, we're still learning--and we want the kids to learn from our mistakes.
We're all getting better, one baby step at a time.
Before we went to Myrtle Beach this summer, we told the kids they'd have to save their own money to spend down there. They did. In fact, they each saved over $100. I was especially proud of the Lego Kid, who actually thought about what he really wanted instead of handing over his money for a lesser item.
I guess what I'm saying is that we are all tempted by instant gratification. But it's a hollow reward, often followed by guilt and the hunt for the next thing. And it seems to me that people who are always looking for instant gratification are never happy. Nothing ever pleases them. I don't want that, for myself or my kids.
Just like anything else, the destination is made sweeter by the journey.
Still, there's something to be said for a homecooked meal, walking into a quiet library and waiting for reruns.
My kids don't get this.
My soon-to-be 14-year-old (we'll call him Teenager to protect the guilty) and my high-functioning autistic 9-year-old (let's call him the Lego Kid) are all about the now. And I get that. I was both 9 and 14 myself once. But some things--especially big-ticket items--really do have to wait. The kids have a problem with this.
Teenager wants a PlayStation 3 system. "Fine," my husband and I say. "Save your birthday and Christmas money." Teenager says he wants the system before Christmas.
Uh, no, that's not going to happen.
Aside from the fact that we just don't have the money for it, it's the principle of the thing. Wait. Have a plan. Save your money. Shop around.
My husband and I learned this lesson the hard way--some days, we're still learning--and we want the kids to learn from our mistakes.
We're all getting better, one baby step at a time.
Before we went to Myrtle Beach this summer, we told the kids they'd have to save their own money to spend down there. They did. In fact, they each saved over $100. I was especially proud of the Lego Kid, who actually thought about what he really wanted instead of handing over his money for a lesser item.
I guess what I'm saying is that we are all tempted by instant gratification. But it's a hollow reward, often followed by guilt and the hunt for the next thing. And it seems to me that people who are always looking for instant gratification are never happy. Nothing ever pleases them. I don't want that, for myself or my kids.
Just like anything else, the destination is made sweeter by the journey.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
My Name is Donna, but I'm Far from Donna Reed
The only thing Donna Reed and I have in common is our first name.
I don't vacuum wearing pearls, heels, a dress or any combination of the three.
When I vacuum at all, that is.
Fact is, I'm a slob. I've been this way for 46 years. It's not something I'm proud of, and I continually fantasize about what it would be like not to be a slob. To be able to walk around my bedroom without stepping over laundry piles. To be able to see the bottom of my kitchen sink. To be able to pick something up without raising a dust storm.
To this end, I've decided to put my fantasies into action. I'll also be blogging about my attempts to save money, find a second part-time job, get out of debt, raise two boys whom I hope will someday be contributing members of society, and anything else that strikes my fancy.
I may not be Donna Reed, but I can become a better housewife.
I don't vacuum wearing pearls, heels, a dress or any combination of the three.
When I vacuum at all, that is.
Fact is, I'm a slob. I've been this way for 46 years. It's not something I'm proud of, and I continually fantasize about what it would be like not to be a slob. To be able to walk around my bedroom without stepping over laundry piles. To be able to see the bottom of my kitchen sink. To be able to pick something up without raising a dust storm.
To this end, I've decided to put my fantasies into action. I'll also be blogging about my attempts to save money, find a second part-time job, get out of debt, raise two boys whom I hope will someday be contributing members of society, and anything else that strikes my fancy.
I may not be Donna Reed, but I can become a better housewife.
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