Clumsy Face and wheelchairs...

I fail at being a caregiver to old people. For example, my mother has been very ill this past week. (Don’t forget, I have old parents.) It was decided last night that this morning I was to take my mother to the walk-in clinic and get her checked out by a doctor (we’ve been trying to get her to agree to this for about 4 days). This morning I wake up and get ready and go try to get her up. Literally. She couldn’t stand. Her foot was so bad that she couldn’t walk today. After my brother and I very carefully work some skillful magic to get her into the car I decide that when I am at the clinic I am going to get them to stick her in a wheelchair until they look at her.

And by them, that turned out to be just little me. I’m so bad with mechanical things some days it’s amazingly perplexing that I’m an engineer. When I finally got her into the chair (note to self: brakes are wonderful inventions), I go wheel her inside the clinic. The lovely nurse had propped open the doors for me, but unfortunately, she did not prop the people back. It was so crowded in there that I didn’t know where to go. I finally found an empty corner in the waiting room so I started to head towards that spot.

Note to all sick persons: that waiting room is not handicap friendly. The chair barely fit through the aisle but not with people in it. I announced to the room as they were watching me (because they had nothing better to watch apparently) and my mother was bossing that ‘I’m not very good at this whole chair game’ yet they still didn’t get it… until I promptly ran over 4 different people’s feet right in a row. That was embarrassing.

As I was apologizing to the first lady, I heard an “OUCH!” from her husband. You would think that he would’ve learned since I had just run over his wife’s foot that his feet were in danger too. But alas, men can be naïve and therefore, he got a large woman and her chair’s weight on his little piggy toes. And it didn’t stop there. I ran into two other people as well.

Que oso! Especially since after waiting when they called my mother’s name, everyone got up and cowered against the wall as I went to wheel her to the back room but then a nurse was sent from around the corner to do it for me. Oh man. How am I supposed to be the caregiver when she actually does start to have serious feet issues? Maybe I’ll get my brother to do it…

Oh right- After she saw the doctor and everything was happy, the doctor wheeled her to the front door so that I could push her out the door and to the car. And I promptly started to push her INTO not just one door, but TWO doors. In front of everyone. At least my mother found it semi-amusing and was too weak to scold me.

Taylor the latte boy...

In general, I am very apprehensive in sharing any stories or feelings I have in regards to boys to anyone—especially girls. In my experience, us girls tend to have very big mouths and say too much to people I don’t want knowing what I think. (Yes, I am 100% guilty of this crime too.) Well, I’ve been attempting to work on this hesitation for many reasons (something about dealing with trust issues and learning to open up emotionally, yadda yadda yadda) and so have been slowly opening myself up to more people. This is the story of what happens when I tell people things about my life with respect to boys.

I have this friend (bless her heart) who bounds through life with a lot of enthusiasm and spontaneity and excitement. She also can get very hyper after consuming sugary drinks such as soda. Well, I made the mistake of telling her once how I had this crush on a guy that I barely knew last year. I mean after all he was an athlete, an engineer, and a fellow Jesus-lover. Who doesn’t have a crush on him?! But the best part about him was his name.

You see, I once heard this song called ‘Taylor the Latte Boy’ which is an anecdote about how this girl goes into Starbucks every day and orders a latte and she meets this boy who is her dream boy, etc. Since I am a HUGE coffee fan (and addict), I have always said that is how I am going to meet my dream guy. So what made my crush even better was that this guy’s name was Taylor. (This is humiliating because everyone reading this blog now knows exactly who and what I am talking about).

My friend who loves to bound through life heard this story and I told her about how he is my ‘latte boy’ because he seemed so perfect. Apparently, she thought this meant that he actually knew I called him my latte boy. One day, she had a soda and was incredibly unfiltered with her excitement. He walked into the room and she saw him (and chances are that this guy does not to this day know who she is) and got so excited she went running over to him and asked him, ‘Aren’t you Cara’s Latte boy?!!’

Uhhhhh…. So wrong on so many levels. A word of advice to anyone: DO NOT DO THAT! EVER! He stared at her with a blank face so she tried to clarify, ‘You know… Cara Watson.’ So now this poor boy must be super confused because this girl he doesn’t know is talking to him and she just mentioned this other girl that he barely knows well and referenced something about him that he doesn’t have a clue what it means. Sigh. She texted me all excited and proud of herself not realizing that I actually have not told him that I call him my Latte boy nor had she realized that she made life more difficult for me. The next time I see him, I’m praying he won’t bring it up and ask why I call him my ‘Latte boy' because I'm pretty sure I'll turn beet red and not know how to explain the whole song without showing it to him, which then will weird him out.

In conclusion, the whole attempt at opening up about guys to other girls completely backfired and now I still have trust issues to work out. And now I will be further humiliated after posting this story and chances are his people will read this and this will get back to him. But that is a sacrifice I am willing to make for your entertainment.

(Oh yea—this was the same week that as a joke, I brought him cookies to prove a point. But that’s another story.)

The Awkward Face

HI. My name is Cara but lots of people call me Face. 'Why?' you ask. Well... translated into Spanish, cara means face. And I did travel to Guatemala where my host insisted that I say 'me llamo cara' and all the children and adults would laugh at me. (Fun fact: cara means face in Spanish, expensive in Italian, dear in Latin, friendly in Gaillic... so therefore I am a dear, expensive, friendly face.) I also am an engineer, a Marylander living in Delaware and a blonde.

Anyway, it has come to my attention that I have a lot of random and/or awkward thoughts, experiences and events occur in my life that I should record for others to read. Now, I am not a writer or an articulate person (after all, I am an engineer) but I still have been encouraged to write them all down. Therefore, I have started a blog to document all of my ridiculousness.

So stay tuned.