"Car-ma"

This year is a big year for me.  Both of my children are in school.  "Huzzah!!!" (What? Rich old men from the 1910s don't own that word)

One of the benefits of my new-found freedom is being in the car by myself.  All alone.  With no one to pass a sippy cup to or to scream at for looking at their sister weird.

I do, however, find myself slipping into my imagination quite a bit more, with all that solitude in the car.  I've noticed this in three different ways...

1.  I am tempted to play chicken with people trying to cross the parking lot.  I see a pedestrian walking from his car to Home Depot, where I am also trying to go but have just pulled into the area.  He wants to cross the main thoroghfare into the store.  I, of course, stop and wave my hand for him to go.  I then, in my head, decide to ever so gently put my foot on the gas so that the man gives a start. I brake.  He stops.  Perhaps he misread me.  He waits.  I wave again for him to go, then proceed to rev the car again.  Oops!  We're caught in an accidental little dance!  Or...are...we.  Because, just as I laugh big enough for him to notice through my windshield, and wave for him to really go this time, I hit the gas again for just a second.  As I brake for the third time, the guy looks at me like I'm crazy.  And I really laugh and let him go.  I'm sure if I really did this someday the man would laugh too. 

That's what I think of your Darwin Fish

2.  I do major damage to the car ahead of me who disagrees with my views.  Driving down the road, I notice the guy in front of me has a bumper sticker...or eight...that basically read "I disagree with everything you believe in and mock you for your stupid morals and principles".  I, in real life, just keep driving.  BUT, in my head, I floor it and ram straight into the rear of the other car.  A Bruce Willis Movie-style explosion then takes place between those two cars.  In the flying debris, the smoke, and the fire, I come striding out toward the camera.  All sexy and confident..possibly wearing heals and black leather pants...never looking back...as that stupid offensive bumper sticker flutters to the ground at my feet.  Yeah!!

3.  I have imaginary conversations...out loud.  It could be rehearsing a tough talk I need to have with a child's teacher.  It could be a thought I had from my devotions that morning...suddenly I'm Beth Moore and talking to thousands of women as I quip about being a mom while striking to the core of their beings with my thoughts on Philipians 2.  I have...and this is the deep level of my insanity...even eulogized my loved ones...all of who are alive, disease-free, and have at least 40-60 good years left.  Okay, that last one is hard to admit. 

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME????  I don't think I knew how active my imagination really was.  I have had to channel that into my kids and now that they are not home, my brain can't shut it down.  So on I go, making up situations and talking out loud to myself.  If those things could make me money I could be one of those people who "make millions by working from home"....or "driving in your car".

I might be a crazy person, but...hey, its safer than texting.