{Reminiscing: The Day I Was a Dork}

The light bulb in the overhead projector finally burned out. It lasted at least four years, although I don't know for sure when it was first put in since we got it from a forklift driver. Our tiny little classroom has had quite a bit of fun with that projector.

(Liesl receiving a telegram from Rolfe, of course.)

When it gave out today, my mind wandered back a few years to when it first came into our home. We were living in Camas at the time, and I had written the account to my family to share about that glorious day. The day when I was a dork. Maybe you'd like to hear about it, too.

March, 2009 

Today the kids were watching the action across the street at the paper mill warehouse -- a welcome diversion after several monotonous days of fighting a virus. There's usually a forklift doing something or other over there, and today was no different. They were dropping impressively large pieces of office equipment into the dumpster. It started out with loud crashes, bumps and bangs, which of course attracted the kids' attention.

Then, I noticed they were throwing away perfectly good things, which, of course, attracted my attention. When I saw a chalkboard go in, I knew something had to be done. On went my coat and shoes. The kids' eyes widened in horror. Drew tried to reason with me. "Mom, are you really going over there? To the dumpster?" His appeal failed. I brushed past the blushing children and marched across the street. When the forklift man noticed me, I, The Dork, approached him. I asked if perhaps there was a chalkboard up for grabs.

Thankfully, the workers did not address me as Mrs. Dork, but actually felt that it was a waste to be throwing all of these things away. It was simply their job -- the place needed to be cleared so it could be put up for sale. They would gladly give me the three chalkboards . . . . would I also like five giant pads of paper? How about a huge whiteboard? Knowing the whiteboard would be great for Jamie's business, I accepted, and Mr. Forklift and I walked back across the street with three chalkboards and the monster paper under our arms. Mr. Forklift said he'd return shortly with the whiteboard.

Back at the house, the kids (still pasted to the window) changed their minds. That paper was bigger than Avery -- how fun! Art projects were immediately under way. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have a dork for a mother. They definitely knew this was the case when, a few minutes later, Mr. Forklift actually drove his machine across the street right up to our house to deliver a very large whiteboard, several reams of paper and . . . . 80 rolls of Georgia Pacific toilet paper.

An inspiration seized me. Quickly, I whipped some pants and a sweatshirt onto a mystified Aidan and grabbed my camera. This was definitely a moment to take advantage of, especially for a boy who just had a construction equipment birthday, but didn't actually have one, thanks to the flu. So there, with the snow beginning to fall, Aidan had his picture taken with a forklift. In his own yard.

Well now, it doesn't get much better than that. We even ended up with a forklift-delivered overhead projector, three hole punch, pencil sharpener and several other things to boot. So the kids are now singing a different tune, knowing that their mother, although embarrassing at times, can also make pretty cool things happen.

* * * * *

We no longer live across the street from a warehouse. But we do live within walking distance of three thrift stores. They all stock lovely selections of very inexpensive books -- some of them deliciously vintage. Last week you may have noticed me lugging two bags of books across town. I guess that still makes me a dork. At least my kids are used to it by now.