Wrangling with Pepper Spray
Now that my eldest in college and knows so much more about how I should take care of myself, she leaves little Vivactivs around to harden my bones, reminds me to put on my seat belt, and gives me the latest ins and outs on self-defense (in case some hardcore criminal is able to sneak into our nearly impenetrable microcosm to assault my body as it sags and wrinkles before his very eyes. Well, this weekend, she came for a lovely visit--in part because she missed us and meals that didn't include Hamburger Helper, and in part because she needed to lick her wounds after tests in Biology, Genetics, and some other course I can't pronounce. Before she left, I noticed a pink little key ring now held my car and house keys. I thought, "Wow, a cool little flashlight!" like the world would actually dare to let me drive after dusk when my depth perception is rotten enough in broad daylight. I tried hard to push all the little buttons in different sequences to no avail. Finally, as Kristina and I were headed off to Starbucks, I asked her why the heck she put a broken flashlight on my key ring. "What? Mooommmmmmm, that's pepper spray." So what do I do? I look at the tip--yup, looks like a nozzle, then point it away from my face and push the button in (finally) the right way so that it emitted a stream of noxious fumes. We had to evacuate the car and my garage for an hour or more. "What were you thinking, Mom?" "Look, Sweetie, no caffeine, no thinkie." Of course now my 15 year old son wants to buy Pepper Spray for his own personal use, wide-eyed, trembling siblings not withstanding. Ha!!! Right!