Friday, September 19, 2014

Driving Mrs. Leighton

One of my all-time favourite movies? Driving Miss Daisy. In fact, I’d like to watch it. This weekend! Think I have it on VHS. With no VHS player. (Note to self: Order a Blue Ray from Amazon…soon.)

I’ve shared with y’all in the past that if I had my choice between these three services at my home—a full-time chef; a full-time housekeeper; or a chauffeur—I’d choose the chauffeur. No question. No doubt. Every time.

This past Tuesday, my dear, precious friend, Drew, and I drove 150 miles south of my casa to have lunch with two college “sisters.” We had the best time ever! Drew had driven about 60 miles to meet me here at our home. So her round trip for the day? 420 miles. We agreed: It was worth every mile. Every minute.

Yesterday I went to Ft. Worth for lunch with my massage therapist—and friend—Parry. She’s adorable. We laughed and laughed and visited with the cutest little 3-year-old girl named Haven—sitting with her parents in the booth next to us. Then  Parry saved my neck…and back. She’s been doing this for about two years. That was fun and important—to my general well-being. But it was a 130-mile round trip.

Today I head out to see My Girls! I’ll travel 110 miles and it’ll take me…depending on traffic…approximately two hours and fifteen-ish minutes to get to TLC and Little Leighton's front door.

I don’t hate driving. But I don’t love it, either. When I’m going the speed limit and people are passing me—sometimes in a risky/dangerous way—and then making obscene gestures at me? I wish I was in a nice, comfortable limo with a kind, wise, safety-conscious driver getting me where I need to go. I could check Pinterest. Read. Sleep. Talk to friends—actually talk to them!—on the phone. Aahhhhhh…how lovely would that be?

TLC would argue I have a chauffeur about 60% of the time. My Sweet Hubby (MSH). Yes. Yes, that’s true. When we’re together—going where we go—he drives 85% of the time. But he refuses to wear a uniform and hat. And call me M’am. And, frankly, his driving makes me nervous. (I know…I know…that’s a two-way street. My driving makes him nervous, too. It’s an old-married couple “thing.” In fact, it may actually be a rule. In any case, it's quite normal. But I’m the wife who won’t let him get away with anything. I have many friends who suck it up and stay quiet. I guess they spend the time praying. I complain and direct. It’s what I do. He says he never gets used to it and begs me to look out the window or at my cell. Ha. Funny Man.)

This is all just a dream. There will be no full-time chauffeur carting me around in a beautiful, baby-blue Bentley limo. Asking me if I’d like a glass of champagne or Diet Dew. Not minding one bit when I sweetly request that he turn the air conditioner up—because I’m freezing.

Sigh.  I’ve got to get back to reality! I’ve got my bag and car to pack. Time to head East!!!

Hope y’all have a Wonderful Weekend—Wherever in the World Y’all Are!

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