Lucky St. Patrick's Day

"May your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow, and may trouble avoid you wherever you go."  Irish blessing

I feel blessed.  ...Blessings that outnumber the shamrocks.

But today trouble didn't get the memo.  It wasn't really avoiding me.  In fact it followed me all day.

Ask me what time I woke up this morning.  

(It was 7:02, and I had to drive Nate's carpool at 7:10, and no one else was awake yet either.)  

I'm blaming daylight savings time, and body clocks that aren't reset yet.

By 8:15 I had dropped off Gabby at school.  She needed a ride because she wasn't ready to walk when Joie left earlier.  I drove back home, turned off the ignition, and heard a very faint hsssssssss....... that grew louder when I opened the door.  I watched my tire go flat in front of my eyes.

At least it happened after I pulled in the driveway.  A blessing for sure.

In a panic, I called Tim.

No answer.

I sent a text.

No response.

I called his work number.

He was in the new building preparing for the move.  (I knew that, but I was desperate.)

Then I asked myself:  What exactly do I want Tim to do?  Come home from work and change the tire for me?  

I was embarrassed to think of it, but I had looked all over the car and couldn't find the spare tire.  The whole time I was thinking:  What kind of farm girl am I anyway?  

...All those hours my dad spent making sure his daughters knew how to change tires (and oil, and spark plugs...but don't tell anyone because I'm not changing the oil or the spark plugs...and if I've forgotten Algebra after all these years, I've certainly forgotten those things).

But changing a tire.  That's like riding a bike.  You never forget.

If I could just find the tire!

Tim finally called back, and I could tell he didn't want to drive home to change a tire, but he was coming anyway.

And as he drove I said, "Maybe you can just talk me through this.  I can't even find the tire!"

And he did.  (The tire was under the car and had to be released by inserting one of the many toolie thingies in a hole in the back of the car and twisting.)

That was easy.  (Except for the part where I had to find the toolie thingies under the middle seat, and find the right combination of tools to do the twisting...and it was a rightie loosie twist instead of a lefty loosie twist...)

Now for the lug nuts.  I knew this part!  I was home free!  I started to work fast so I could finish before Tim got home.  

I could change a tire.  Really, I could.  I'm a farm girl.  I know how to change a tire.

But some extra muscle would have been nice.  Who tightened those lug nuts anyway?  I put my entire weight on the toolie thingy that loosens the lug nuts and nothing moved.

I was still talking to Tim on the phone.  

"Why don't you make me an omelet?"  he says.  He didn't eat breakfast before he left for work at 6:00 a.m. (which was when I should have gotten out of bed instead of falling back to sleep).

So I went inside to make an omelet.  Then while it was cooking, I went back outside to loosen lug nuts.  

Because that would look soooooo good if I could cook an omelet and loosen lug nuts.

But while I was loosening lug nuts, the omelet burned.  ...Not really, just sort of.  And it looked more like scrambled eggs than an omelet, but Tim ate it anyway.

After he loosened the lug nuts and changed the tire.

I could have done it.  Really.  If I could have found the spare tire and toolie thingies.  And if I could have loosened the lug nuts that some air compressor in a tire shop tightened.  No one could have loosened those.  Tim even said they were tighter than they were last week when he changed the tire.

Yes.  This was the second flat tire in a week.  Same tire.  But he changed the first one because I was at work.  (And he didn't even need to call me to come home.)

So why does it bother me so much that Tim had to drive home to change the tire?  Because my dad programmed my brain to understand that girls need to know how to change tires!

And cook eggs.  But I think that program came from my mom.  

Quoting my facebook post today:  Dear Dad: Thank you for teaching this farm girl how to change a tire. However, you didn't tell me that in the year 2011 it would take a degree in rocket science to remove the spare tire and tools from the vehicle in order to change the tire.

So I'm blaming the rocket scientists that design toolie thingies and attach spare tires under vehicles.  And day light savings time.  I'm blaming both of them.

The good news is that the tire was changed and I got Nate's cookies to school on time (because in the seven minutes he had to wake up and get out the door, he forgot them).

But I got them there.  And took the crisis appointment for a kid who got caught texting about drugs.

And cleaned the house before Activity Days this afternoon.

But I had to go to the store twice because I forgot to buy popcorn for the green popcorn balls we were making in Activity Days as part of our leprechaun service project.  And I had to borrow corn syrup from a neighbor because I forgot that too.

I'm blaming daylight savings time.  And the flat tire.  And my crazy day that was definitely blessed with all kinds of love and great moments...

But it wasn't free of trouble.  The leprechauns forgot that part this year.