neversremedy8 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
neversremedy8) wrote2009-04-18 06:31 pm
neversremedy8) wrote2009-04-18 06:31 pm
Let No Good Deed Go Unpunished
I made the banana bread* for the school auction with half an hour to get it to the Asian Resource Center where the auction was being held. It was a delicious bread surrounded by a crisp, black layer of burnt goodness, which I shaved off and removed to the best of my ability said burt area, I sliced it, served it on a platter with butter, and wrapped the whole thing with a note about how we didn't hear the timer go off--but it's organic!
So, Ana and I put on the Repo! CD and go charging down 520 only to find ... 405 exit is blocked off. I try to take "detour" and end up only seeing 405 North, so I got back onto 520, went to Montlake, whipped around to 23rd, and drove to the I-District. When we get there, only a 30 minute loading zone is available for parking, and we're half an hour late for drop off.
After dropping off the dee-zert, we walk back to the car to see ... a cop pull over just ahead of our car. I know she's targeted us, so I'm extra careful following all the traffic signs to get back out there and head toward the freeway. Did I mention that one of my PTSD triggers is da police? And I spent a good deal of last night watching YouTube videos of people getting tasered, beaten, and strip searched by cops for no good reason?
So just as I'm about to turn back onto Jackson, her lights go on, and I pull over to the nearest parking lot. She lets me know that (drum roll that sounds like my heartbeat, please) the tabs on Craig's car are expired. I explain "Not my car!" and fumble around trying to find the insurance card that never fucking turned up. She tells me that she'll be in her car, if I want to look around the glove box, and I can call my boyfriend, etc. "If you find the insurance card, just wave it out the window so I can see that you have it."
Sure, expect NO INSURANCE CARD. Craig says it's in the trunk, and I point out through the slow strangulation of my breath by fear that getting out of the car to look in the trunk without permission is a bad idea. It's seen as a threat and likely to get my tasered and/or arrested, possibly with some pushing against the ground. 'Cause you know, this is America and them cops are scary with the power. I'm quite sure the officer in question could take me.
I finally shrug into the mirror, and she nods, talks some more on her radio and comes back with various tickets. One's for the tabs, the other for the insurance. I'm at fault for not reading my boyfriend's tabs each and every time I get into the car since I'm "currently in possession of the vehicle." Greeaaaat. I inform Craig he's got some insurance card to copy to reduce the fine, tabs to buy, and oh yeah, ticket to pay for. 'Cause panic attack + ruin of good day? Yeah. Not fucking happy girl.
And on the way home a woman in blue Ford rode my tail all the way down the freeway despite doing a reasonable speed for the far left lane.
Oh, and when we came home, Ana came running in to warn Craig about his certain chastisement.
Did I mention that before all this I was having an absolutely FABULOUS day, that I haven't felt this good in a very long time, and I was ecstatic to get so much done with the company of my daughter. And deer in the yard! And gianormous amazing salad! (pictures of both later.)
I'm going to try to salvage what's left my day, but the lingering effects of PANIC ATTACK are going to make it rather difficult for me.
*Banana Nut Bread
1/2c. butter (salted)
3/4c. raw sugar
3 eggs, beaten
3 bananas, soft and mushed
2c. flour
1t. salt
1t. soda
1t. cinnamon (the real stuff)
7 oz. crushed pineapple
1T pineapple juice
1t. vanilla
lots of crushed walnuts.
So, Ana and I put on the Repo! CD and go charging down 520 only to find ... 405 exit is blocked off. I try to take "detour" and end up only seeing 405 North, so I got back onto 520, went to Montlake, whipped around to 23rd, and drove to the I-District. When we get there, only a 30 minute loading zone is available for parking, and we're half an hour late for drop off.
After dropping off the dee-zert, we walk back to the car to see ... a cop pull over just ahead of our car. I know she's targeted us, so I'm extra careful following all the traffic signs to get back out there and head toward the freeway. Did I mention that one of my PTSD triggers is da police? And I spent a good deal of last night watching YouTube videos of people getting tasered, beaten, and strip searched by cops for no good reason?
So just as I'm about to turn back onto Jackson, her lights go on, and I pull over to the nearest parking lot. She lets me know that (drum roll that sounds like my heartbeat, please) the tabs on Craig's car are expired. I explain "Not my car!" and fumble around trying to find the insurance card that never fucking turned up. She tells me that she'll be in her car, if I want to look around the glove box, and I can call my boyfriend, etc. "If you find the insurance card, just wave it out the window so I can see that you have it."
Sure, expect NO INSURANCE CARD. Craig says it's in the trunk, and I point out through the slow strangulation of my breath by fear that getting out of the car to look in the trunk without permission is a bad idea. It's seen as a threat and likely to get my tasered and/or arrested, possibly with some pushing against the ground. 'Cause you know, this is America and them cops are scary with the power. I'm quite sure the officer in question could take me.
I finally shrug into the mirror, and she nods, talks some more on her radio and comes back with various tickets. One's for the tabs, the other for the insurance. I'm at fault for not reading my boyfriend's tabs each and every time I get into the car since I'm "currently in possession of the vehicle." Greeaaaat. I inform Craig he's got some insurance card to copy to reduce the fine, tabs to buy, and oh yeah, ticket to pay for. 'Cause panic attack + ruin of good day? Yeah. Not fucking happy girl.
And on the way home a woman in blue Ford rode my tail all the way down the freeway despite doing a reasonable speed for the far left lane.
Oh, and when we came home, Ana came running in to warn Craig about his certain chastisement.
Did I mention that before all this I was having an absolutely FABULOUS day, that I haven't felt this good in a very long time, and I was ecstatic to get so much done with the company of my daughter. And deer in the yard! And gianormous amazing salad! (pictures of both later.)
I'm going to try to salvage what's left my day, but the lingering effects of PANIC ATTACK are going to make it rather difficult for me.
*Banana Nut Bread
1/2c. butter (salted)
3/4c. raw sugar
3 eggs, beaten
3 bananas, soft and mushed
2c. flour
1t. salt
1t. soda
1t. cinnamon (the real stuff)
7 oz. crushed pineapple
1T pineapple juice
1t. vanilla
lots of crushed walnuts.
1. cream butter and sugar
2. mush bananas, eggs, add to butter and sugar
3. mix dry ingredients, add to mixture
4. throw in vanilla, juice, pineapple; mix
5. mix in walnuts
6. put in greased pan and slide it into the oven at 350 degrees F for 45-60 minutes.
7. LISTEN FOR THE FUCKING TIMER
8. Slice and serve with butter. The good kind.