Bob Geldof had it right.

To paraphrase those Blackeyed Peas; when I woke up this morning, I had a feeling, that today was going to be a good day. Today was going to be a good, good day. A feeling. Woo hoo. That today's going to be a good... wait.

Sorry, got a bit caught up in the music in my head. As I said, I thought today was going to be fun. Mostly because Elise started up her gymnastics class, and that girl loves her some tumblin'. She had been talking about it all weekend, and was very excited to go. And there's just something about being a parent and watching your child enjoy the crap out of something. Not because she's extremely gifted at it, because let's face it; she has my genes swimming around in her. But because of the pure joy that they get out the experience.

Plus, I really like the bouncy floor we get to run around on.

So fast forward to about 9:15 am. Class starts at 9:30, and I can see the street I need to turn into to get to the rec centre when my car starts to sputter. I frantically try to turn left into the closest parking lot. I don't make it and my car dies straddling the middle of the road.

How crappily sucktastic.

So I sit there with my hazards on, calling Fred, all the while stuck in the middle of a two-lane each way, pretty busy road, with my precious cargo in the back. When I get ahold of Fred and explain my situation to him, he asks me what road I was on.

Let me take a time out here to explain to you guys how we women work: We are not a GPS. We don't know the name of the road we are on, unless it's the street we LIVE on. We know we need to turn left at the 7-11 and that's about all we know. Now that I live in Texas and have no landmarks to guide me, I don't know my north from my south. And when you ask me what road I am on while I am in the middle of a pretty stressful situation, my answer will be so high-pitched and shrieky; only animals and small children will be able to hear it.

Anyway, we manage to figure it out, and Fred tells me he's on his way. Meanwhile, all the fine citizens of the city of Hurst are driving past, either glaring at me, or honking while waving at me with only one finger. You sure have a strange way of greeting people in Texas.

Apparently, my 5 ft. 7, 120-pound frame is too intimidating for anyone to stop and render aid, so Elise and I languish there for 20 minutes. Until two rather nice gentlemen decide I'm not a threat to them, and they help to push my car into a parking lot. I'm thankful they did help... but still, 20 minutes in supposedly one of the nicest states in the union. Not good, Texas. Not good.

I did manage to break down in the not-so-nice section of Hurst, so there were auto shops a-plenty. When Fred arrived, her ran across the street to fetch some help. The guy he brought immediately went to work; banging his rather large wrench against something on the underside of the car. Hey! I didn't know I was qualified to be a mechanic! Apparently, his knowledge did not go beyond thumping on my car and was unable to help.

Fortunately, we have a rather amazing mechanic (no, you cannot have his name), who managed to diagnose the problem OVER THE PHONE. How cool is that? Turns out it was the fuel pump.

This post has gotten rather long, so I'm going to cut it off here and not mention the gut-wrenching stress over being so far away from home, with my child who has diabetes and needed to eat her lunch coming up pretty soon (I was prepared with some food, but not enough to cover her lunch). Nor will I mention the Battle-Royal Elise and I got into over her nap; which led to her falling asleep, face down on her floor, 90 minutes after I put her down.

I will mention that I received a very nice award from the uber-funny Wym. She said (and I quote):

Joanne is the most passionate mother I read about. Her daughter has Type 1 diabetes. Check her out and help her cause.

That, is just about the best thing you could ever say about me and helped to make me feel better about this terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-Monday. I'm also supposed to write 7 things about me and pass the award along to others, but I think I'll save that for another day. Thanks Wym, for the smile!