Isn't it about time we had our flying cars already?

"They have the road to the hospital down to 2 lanes because of their endless construction this summer." The husband says to me. "But I know an alternate route that will take us around it." And he says this with an all knowing, I'm all over this traffic thing look on his face. The kind of look that made me think he spent most of his day contemplating our route and probably was on the Internet and everything.
We were breezing along the alternate route, windows open, radio humming and discussing the boys and where we went wrong with them, when we turned the bend in the road and saw a gozillion red brake lights at a stand still ahead of us.
"Huh. Looks like people are on to your alternate route."
And since I try to maintain a PG rated blog I won't mention what he said next.

So we sat for awhile lost in our own thoughts. That's when I wondered what the hold up was on the flying cars.

If we learned anything during our childhood while watching The Jetsons, it was that in the future we'd all be driving flying cars. I took a sideways glance at the husband and knew that it wasn't the time to bring that subject up. I knew I had to mull in over on my own.

You can't just give a flying car to anybody, I thought. Flying cars needed to be doled out carefully. Someone with an excellent driving record. Which then had me switching gears to my loaner car mishap, how was I going to make that go away? If that gets in the way of me getting a flying car I'll be pissed. I had an excellent driving record before that incident.
You can't just give a flying car to a dumb person either, there's going to have to be an IQ test for flying car ownership. Which I would pass with flying colors, I'm sure of it.
Probably in the beginning stages of flying cars we would have to wear helmets, something I would have to someway get around. I spend too much time on my hair in the morning to have helmet head all day.

Yes, I had that much time to ponder flying cars in the traffic jam.

"Hey we're moving." We made it to the hospital in time to see mom, who looked so much better than she has in days. The hospital staff was making an exception and letting her great-grand children visit, she was beaming.

Remember the time we got locked in the nursing home and you freaked out?

It was a few years ago but damn it was funny. Mother-in-law had hip replacement surgery and had to convalesce in a nursing home for 3 weeks. Boy #2 and I went to visit her the day she was put in. It was later in the evening because we had to go to a school thing first.
The two of us walked in, the door shut behind us and then we saw the sign informing us of the visiting hours.
"Huh, we're late. Maybe they'll let us in since it's her first day."
In the lobby we were alone in dim lighting, office doors closed, no receptionist and a hustle and bustle going on beyond the swinging hospital doors which were locked.
"Huh, there are nurses there but they don't see us, I guess we'll have to come back tomorrow."
Boy #2 went to the front door that wouldn't open. "It's locked? Mom, it's locked."
I had to try it too, yep locked. At that time the ominous hospital door handle started to jiggle, we slowly turned around like they do in a horror movie. The jiggling grew stronger and a feeble, boney hand slowly rose up to the window, it's fingers tapped, tapped, tapped. Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle, tap, tap, tap. Boy #2 tried the door again with a renewed sense of urgency.
"One of us has to go to that door and get a nurses attention. And I'm pretty sure it has to me since you watch way too much TV and you've written us off already."
He sat on the couch and put his head in his hands.
"Look, there's a video camera monitoring us, wave your hands in front of it and get someones attention, I'll deal with death on the other side of this door."
He did as he was told, jumping up and down waving at the camera, mouthing the word HELP!
I went to the hospital door and slowly peered down through the window to find a little old lady in a wheel chair mouthing the word HELP. I asked her to get a nurse but she had a different agenda - escape.
Finally a nurse spotted me, she looked annoyed. "Visiting hours are over."
"We'll leave happily if you would just open the front door, it's locked, we're locked in."
She rattled off a security code and left. Oh there's a security key pad. Boy #2 and I stood in front of it, "What was that number again?" Fear had taken a strong hold on Boy #2 and he recited the number without hesitation.
"You can remember an eight digit number but can't remember to put you socks in the hamper?"

The Unmistakable, Over-Powering Smell of Bleach

Not ever wanting to re-visit the world of surgical procedures again, we, my brother, my mom and myself, found ourselves doing just that. Dad needed surgery. We're thinking of having a zipper installed on him, that way the surgeons can just un-zip him when they need to get in there. Our last experience at the world renowned Cleveland hospital took us three months to get dad out, after a raging infection struck. This is why mom decided to take matters into her own hands.
The hospital takes the families of the patient every step of the way through surgery. They even give you one of those pager thingamabobs that you get at Red Lobster while waiting for a table. It's really quite remarkable, we got to dads room before he did. The nurse told us, "He'll be up soon, we're just getting his paper work finished. You can wait in the room if you'd like, there's no room-mate yet."
"Yes, yes, we'll wait in his room." And mom ushered us in.
I'm usually pretty sharp but after meandering from one waiting room to the next all day and eating cafeteria food, I didn't pick up on the weird vibe coming from mom until it was too late. She had us in the room. My brother was oblivious to what was about to happen until mom said to him, "You, you watch the door."
"Oh, you're really going to do this."
"What?"

Mom told me of a plan she devised before the surgery, 'We're going to clean everything is his room with bleach so he doesn't get another infection.' 'You're going to take bleach to the hospital mom?' 'I'm going to soak rags in bleach, put them in a zip-lock bag and keep them in my purse.'

Much to the surprise of my brother and me, mom produced a zip-lock bag from her purse with bleach soaked rags. For a brief moment I locked eyes with my brother. An unspoken conversation started to take place when the room filled with the unmistakable, over-powering smell of bleach. I glanced at the door with a grin and nodded him to it. Our look-out was in place and grinning from ear to ear.
I've seen enough TV to know we had to work fast. "There's a box of rubber gloves, put some on and give me a pair." Mom was issuing orders. "They might clean the surfaces, but they never clean under, get under everything. Get that phone and his call bell. How's the door?"
"You're good."
While feverishly wiping down dad's hospital room with my brother as the look-out, mom said to me, "You're going to put this in your blog aren't you?"
"I don't see how I can't."
When mom was satisfied the the room was clean, I took off my rubber gloves, "Put those in this zip-lock."
Oh, apparently mom's seen enough TV too and knows you have to take the evidence with you, I did as I was told.
Dad was out of the hospital the next day, mission accomplished.
Mom told us kids of hers, on our way home that night and this is not verbatim, but it's something that will stick with me forever. Although she hates having dad in the hospital, one good thing comes out of it, she gets to have her two kids all to herself, just us room cleaning criminals.