Aggravating Antics

Aggravating me in the early am hours and pre-Diet Coke: Not something I would recommend though Mr. Kaminski finds it highly entertaining. Bless his heart.

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

It happened again. First rattle out of the box on an early morning road trip Mr. Kaminski commenced to poking the bear. We have discussed this, he and I, my penchant for no shenanigans in the early am hours. I can get to where I need to be, but there should be no further expectations from me until a more appropriate and humane hour arrives. I’ve even defined the time. It’s always 9:30ish.

Not only did he literally start poking me at an hour when nausea and dark thoughts make up my entire being, he was quite tickled with himself for doing so. Then he proceeded to keep me a prisoner on this early morning jaunt for 45 minutes without the necessity to both somewhat begin my day, as well as save his life: Diet Coke. That’s my coffee, my nectar of the Gods, and it’s rough riding to start my day without it. Between the poking, the giggling, the incessant talking, and the lack of my morning vice, Mr. Kaminski truly has no idea how close he came to going home, and I don’t mean our residence. I’m talking his eternal home with the Lord.

All of my people think it’s great fun to aggravate me. I truly don’t understand that. I don’t find any particular joy in aggravating anyone. I don’t find it amusing. I don’t find it productive. My people just seem to think it’s hysterical to get my pressure up and see what happens next. Let me just say, it’s not always in their best interest, so you would think they would learn, right?

I was in a full state of aggravation by the time Mr. Kaminski got me a Diet Coke. We were well past Lubbock and had come to the town of Shallowater. The town’s motto was proudly proclaimed on a huge billboard: Shallowater – Where Texas Pride Runs Deep. Mr. Kaminski found that quite humorous and a poignant topic for discussion. I quietly rummaged through my purse in search of any item I could possibly fashion into a shank.

By the grace of God, Shallowater had a Sonic, and it was open. After missing the entrance to the morning’s salvation, Mr. Kaminski mentioned we would just go on until we found something else. I’m thinking the look I gave him changed his mind.

With the promise of the only thing that might keep Mr. Kaminski alive another day so close, I thought I might make it – at least out of North Texas. With my leaded-liquid ordered and in hand, Mr. Kaminski made quite a production by slowly passing it to me to further heighten my state, to which my response was to punch him in the arm, and hiss, “Just give it to me!” He was extraordinarily pleased with himself for adding to my pre-dawn vexation.

Now you would think I would allow this foolishness to continue for the rest of the morning. I did not. I sucked down half of my morning madness, put on a podcast about the Branch Davidians to keep Mr. Kaminski entertained and promptly went back to sleep. Yes, your girl can still sleep with caffeine in her system, because my entire being still knows it’s far too early for me to be productive and precious. By the time I woke up – again – my aggravation had passed, I had Diet Coke at the ready, and Mr. Kaminski was far too engrossed in the David Koresh saga to bother with me. Guess the Branch Davidians did end up saving at least one soul – just in time for Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving porch sitters! See y’all next week – on the porch!


Patti Parish-Kaminski

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