Posts Tagged ‘parking ticket’

That’s Ok

November 18, 2016

It’ll be taken care of.

I have the money.

God must want the city to have a few more bucks.

Just the cost of living in the city.

It’s going to happen once in a while.

I know better next time.

All the thoughts that went through my head when I saw my scooter.

Shoot!

I got a parking ticket.

I was downtown heading to my appointment to get Covered California, which I did not get, I’ll explain in a minute, and I parked between to cars off of Grant Street.

I really didn’t think I was going to get a ticket, but the truth is, I did have a pricking in my thumbs and I was hoping that I wouldn’t be at the office that long and god damn, even on a scooter it’s hella hard to find parking where I was going.

Spring Street, which is where the office is located, doesn’t even have parking on it at all.

Next time.

If there’s a next time.

I’ll pay to park in the garage.

I got popped with an $81 dollar ticket.

The nice thing was that I wasn’t upset.

I was like, well, shoot.

Then I thought.

I’ve paid for the time, I got out of the Healthy SF office far sooner than I thought, as I didn’t end up applying to Covered California, and I pulled out my camera and took some photographs.

It reminded me of the time, about four years ago, that I took a photography class with a mentor and walked around China Town with him taking hundreds of photographs.

I looked up entranced by the red dragon ledges of the building I was parked next to.

Then, I turned and Grant street, right there, so many colors and juxtapositions of signs and lamp-post and hanging lanterns, panda posters, hot pink, lime green, window displays, all the golden dragons floating across the faces of the buildings.

I was entranced and shot a rapid number of frames.

Pictures that I have been trying desperately for the last hour to figure out how to download to my computer.

I really don’t know what’s going on with it, but it won’t recognize the files.

This has happened before and I can’t remember how I got it to recognize the format of my camera and down load the photos.

I spent way too much time on it and I finally gave it up and got in the shower, which is what I should have done much sooner, I am already up past my “bed time” on a school night.

Yes.

That’s right.

Class is in this weekend.

And I have papers to turn in and lectures to attend and friends to catch up with.

I am looking forward to seeing my friends.

Not so much to classes, if the truth may be told, I’m not loving the classes I’m in quite as much as last semester, but that’s ok, I’m sure that will happen once in a while, the material is sufficient and I’m learning, I’m just not finding myself connecting with two out of the three classes as much as I would like.

So it goes.

I need to take some proactive actions this weekend around my practicum stuff too, I’ll be sitting through my lunch hour in an open house.

So much for taking a break, ever.

Ha.

Or catching a break.

I almost skipped over the didn’t get health insurance today.

It costs too much.

“Oh, that’s too much,” she said shaking her head, “you can’t afford that.”

Yeah, no shit.

I was in tears.

“Oh, no, don’t cry,” she said and patted my arm.  “My daughter’s in the same boat, she’s a nanny too.”

Ah.

Those that do the work, sometimes they get glossed over, looked over, left behind, but I won’t be upset, I won’t.

Nope.

I’m going to be grateful.

Because.

The agency is going to let me do Healthy San Francisco for another year.

Thank you!

Yes.

I will take a hit at tax time and get a penalty for not having health insurance, fuck you very much, last year it was $85 per month that I didn’t have insurance.

Whatever.

The cost of the lowest usage, least covered of the packages was still over three times greater in price than what I am paying using Healthy SF.

So.

Even taking a fine on for each month is less than what I would pay.

Plus the copays are stupid.

$75 to see my primary doctor.

Fuck you.

I won’t ever go, what’s the point?

I said thank you so much to the woman who helped me, nearly gave her a hug I did, and wrote up a really nice five-star comment about her service and slipped it into the suggestion box in the lobby before I left.

I had tons of time before work.

What do I want to do?

Get my scooter and move it now.

Too late.

There’s the ticket.

Oh well.

I was actually ok with it, I really was, I mean, hell, I thought, just the cost of finding out that I was going to stick with the health plan and services that I have currently.

I took out my camera, took my pictures, then decided I would go to Rainbow Co-operative and do some retail therapy.

I bought five pounds of Stumptown Holler Mountain coffee.

I got a discount of 10% off the cost of it for buying it in bulk and yes, I will drink it faster than you think I will.

Shhh.

I have a small, heh, caffeine habit.

Don’t tell.

I got myself a few fat and sassy persimmons.

I picked up a bottle of my favorite raw chocolate drink from Rau.

I got myself a box of Christmas cards.

It’s almost that time again.

I got some Mexican chocolate candles.

God damn they smell good.

I got some nice tea to bring to school tomorrow.

I bought some organic nutmeg in bulk.

Because nutmeg.

Then I hopped on my scooter and got to work.

Work was busy.

Another sick boy.

Another batch of broccoli soup.

And chili.

Grandparent visit and the grandpa really loves my chili so whenever they are in town I whip up a batch.

One monstrous big temper tantrum.

But.

It worked its way out and the oldest boy and I had a really sweet moment when we were navigating his feelings.

“When was the last time you got mad?” He asked me.

“Hmmm,” I thought about it, “oh!  Today, well, I was not super mad, but I got a little mad, I got a parking ticket on my scooter.”

“You did?” The mom called out from her office, “how much was it for?”

“Ugh, $81,” I said, “but I had a feeling I shouldn’t have parked there, and well, I learned to trust that voice again.”

“Do you have it?” The mom asked.

“No, I paid it immediately, dropped a check in the mailbox before coming to work,” I replied, and ruffled the eldest boys hair and squeezed his shoulder.

“How much was it?  $81?” The mom asked coming through the kitchen.

“Here,” she said and set $81 in cash on top of my purse, “I always pay a person’s parking ticket, it’s good karma.”

“What?  Are you serious, thank you!”  I was so startled, and grateful, it made me laugh, I truly believed I was going to come into money today and that my ticket was going to be negated.

And it was.

“Absolutely, if I hear someone got a parking ticket I always pay it,” she said and went back to her office, saying as she walked away, “it really is good karma.”

Holy moly.

Thanks boss lady!

Taken care of.

Just.

Like.

That.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

All the damn time.

Seriously.

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Ticket Please

May 6, 2016

Wait.

What?

No.

NO.

Damn it man.

I got popped.

My scooter, sans the Childcare Parking Permit, finally got hit today.

At the same time the mom was bringing the boys home from school on the double tandem electric bike the family has.

Argh.

All the boys could talk about was the ticket for a good couple of hours, how I was going to jail, how I was bad, how was I going to pay for it, have I ever gotten a ticket before?

All the little boy questions in the world.

I knew it was coming, I was just hoping to get things sorted out with the SFMTA and slide under the radar until I would have the time to go down to their offices on South Van Ess and get a replacement sticker.

I was going to pay it, the ticket, that is, until I saw that I could contest it online within 21 days of receiving the citation.

I didn’t have it in me tonight to formulate the argument, suffice to say, I have the photo evidence of the parking permit and all the documentation as well as a time date stamp of the e-mail to SFMTA, I just wanted to get on finishing up my paper for Multi-Cultural class and get my reference page typed up and printed out.

Done and done.

And now, I don’t have the stuffing in me to do any more work or to formulate any more arguments.

The lady is tuckered out.

Yoga kicked my ass this morning.

Seriously kicked it to the curb.

Between an intense yoga class and still feeling a little sore and tight from the bike ride yesterday I was already down for the count before even getting to work.

And work.

Well.

It was work.

The mom always has me do weekend food prep for the family, but it increases whenever I am heading into a school weekend since they are without me for three days instead of two.

I did a lot of cooking, laundry, food prep, run to Lucca–where the guys were super flirty with me today, hello, guess I looked cute in my polka dots–and since it’s Thursday, a big outing with the boys to the Mission Farmer’s Market on Bartlett and 22nd.

I love going to the market with the boys.

It’s nanny heaven.

Fruit samples.

Cheese curd samples

Friends from the neighborhood.

Friends from school.

Art projects.

Face painting.

Live music.

It is eclectic Mission neighborhood and a sweet reprieve out of the house for me.

We had a lot of fun at the market today too, since the Golden Gate Parks Department had a mobile ranger station at the market.

Temporary tattoos, badges, stickers, sign up for Junior Ranger Camp.

The boys were over the moon and it was a happy time for them, even as they were straining at the bit to get back to the house and have dinner as soon as possible.

The little guy walked into the house this afternoon, and the one comment out of his mouth before the barrage of “you got a ticket on your scooter,” was: “Oh! Yummy, the house smells yummy, Carmen, CARMEN.”

“Yes, __________,” I said, softly ruffling his head and picking up his little back pack and sippy cup.

“Did you make chicken pot pie for dinner?  I LOVE chicken pot pie,” he asked with serious big round brown eyes, arms wrapped around my knees.

“I did!”

“Yay!”

He jumped up and down and then proceeded to give me all the details on the meter maid.

I have to say that despite my sadness over the ticket and a moments rumination on how I was going to deal with it, pay it, contest it, etc.

I was really proud of how I handled it with the boys.

“Are you unhappy,” the oldest asked me, very serious and solemn.

“Yes, of course I’m unhappy,” I told him, “but unhappy is just a feeling and it will pass and I am already in acceptance about it, I’m ok, I’m not hurt, my scooter didn’t get squashed, there was no accident, I have the money to pay for it, I’ll be alright.”

“Will you go to jail?”  He asked eyes somehow growing wider in his face.

“No, honey, I am not going to go to jail,” I replied and squeezed his shoulder softly.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief, “that’s good, because, Carmen, you’re the best, and I would miss you if you were in jail.”

“Aw, sugar pie, I would miss you too,” I crouched down to look him in the eyes, “but I promise, I’m not going to jail.”

After that.

Well.

It was over.

There was no drama, there was no further story to tell.

It’s interesting, this letting go of the story and of the dramatic.

I find I just don’t have the time for it or the energy and well, it’s not really all that interesting.

I have much more fun stories to tell.

Like.

It’s my last weekend of the year for my graduate school program!

Yes.

I get to see my cohort and friends and participate in my education and show up having written all my papers and having done all my reading.

I am ready to go.

Lunch and dinner are prepped, extra coffee in a Mason jar to take to school, lemon ginger tea, a bag of organic cherries, my books, readers, and notebooks already in a sack.

All I have to do is take the laundry out of the dryer, fold it up, put it away, make a little more tea, watch Daredevil, just a tiny bit, just to unwind a bit, and go to sleep.

I also have a slumber party Sunday night with one of my girlfriends who normally would leave town right after the last day of classes, but is going to stay here and we get to hang out and she’ll get a tiny taste of my SF life.

Plus.

Heh.

I get to have a second date Monday night with the gentleman from last weekend.

Yay.

I’m ready people.

Let’s do this thing!


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