Literally Road Blocks

Well my 30 day blogging challenge proposed by We Work for Cheese has been thwarted on my second day.  By roadblocks.  Many, many roadblocks.  How appropriate. What can you do?  Really.


On my way to write my second blog in so many days, I was filled with anticipation to get to my computer and type my brilliant thoughts "down on paper" so to speak.

I was happily driving my mom from my sister's when up in front of me was a roadblock of fire engines and police cars.  The road was closed because of an overturned truck and we were re-routed through a neighborhood full of dead ends and cul-de-sacs. What a tangled web those old urban planners did weave.

When we were close to reaching our destination, home, my mom in her sweetest asking voice, wondered if I was busy the rest of the afternoon. OH-Oh. That's means "Honey, I want you to be my slave and grant me every wish and drive me where ever I want to go. And oh yes, buy me lunch too."
Sorry, blog.  Another "roadblock" was placed in my path and this was a formidable one in the shape of a four foot ten, red-haired, 82 year old hobbit woman with expert guilting skills insisting on elevensies.

I am always willing to accommodate my lovely mother and have learned the great skill of patience from her. We shuffle slowly through the five stores we shopped. Lunch was an hour long affair since she eats very slowly and carefully. We stopped at two garage sales and she picked up every item on every table and scrutinized each item carefully like a forensics expert looking for the tiniest evidence of DNA.

Finally on my way to her home, another roadblock, more fire engines and police cars that blocked the divided highway I was driving. Through the neighborhood again, but this time on one way streets. The accident earlier that day at least gave you an opportunity to turn left or right. We were all doomed to go in the same direction causing massive back-ups no matter which way I turned trying to get away from it all.

Hours later, when I finally drag my butt into my own home, my roadblock is a mental and a physical block. My head is pounding and my leg is throbbing. I can't think.   can't move.  Pain relief isn't coming no matter how many 200mg of whatever it is I'm taking. My leg takes hours to calm down and finally I can go to bed.

Sometimes there is no roadblock for pain.

There are always roadblocks to overcome.  Roadblocks seem to appear every time you make a real commitment as though the mere mention of such commitment and resolve triggers the fates to mess with you just for fun. I was blocked thoroughly.

All I can hear in my head is a quote paraphrased from Wizard of Oz: "As coroner I must aver, I thoroughly examined her, And she's not only merely blocked, she's really most sincerely blocked."