Think Outside the Box

What do you do, when in the middle of baking a (your third) batch of bread, you realize why this batch, and the two before it, were not baking through?  Hence, why your bread is not baking, so tell me why it took me so long to figure it out?

You bake the bread upside down. 

The monkey bread did not fare as well.  Oh Well.

Then you check out Lowe's for a new oven. 

I wish.  No, this was one appliance we knew (and hoped) would be an easy, and relatively cheap, fix.  (As opposed to the other THREE appliances that have broken down in the past 2 years.  All brand new when we bought the house, and ranged from 5 to 7 years old.  Oh yea, GE is not my friend.) So, Hubby ordered a new bottom element.  It arrived today, and the kids enjoyed fresh baked cookies after a cold and wet swim practice. 

And, I am still mooning over the ovens at Lowe's.  They are pretty, and expensive, but, they come in convection, with double ovens.  :::sigh:::

House Guests

The past few weeks, we have been honored to host a special little family.

 It has been fun watching the whole process; from the next being built, seeing the eggs, and now watching (from a respectful distance) the birds grow, and their parent's taking care of them.  *Taking care of them, at this point, means lots of feedings, along with telling us off every time we venture onto the porch. 

Do you mind?  We are trying to sleep.

Plus, we are hungry, and our parents will not return while you are standing here. 

Can you see the mom?

Queen of the World

This picture was taken the summer of 2010:

This blog post accompanied the picture.

Fast forward, almost, two years.  During those two years, EM barely touched her bike.  She wanted nothing to do with it.  No amount of sweet talking, cajoling, bribery, or pointing out her friends who rode a two wheeler could convince her to ride the bike.

We pulled out the (hand-me-down) pretty, sparkle, purple bicycle.  (The one pictured above belonged to her brothers.  Red, yellow and blue, with racing stripes.  We tried to bling it out with My Little Pony tassels, seat cover, and a bell.)  It was a no go.

This past Tuesday was a beautiful evening.  Hubby was home early, and I had to finish making dinner.  Everyone was sent outside.  Hubby convinced her to get on the bike.  By the time we sat down to dinner she was riding with no problems.

Wednesday she begged to ride her bike, so we went to a nearby (and empty) parking lot, and she rode in circles to her heart's content.  Actually, her heart wasn't content.  She wanted to ride EVERYWHERE, and was not satisfied with such a tiny parking lot.

Thursday, she was out again, in the drive way, complaining at how unfair it was that she could not ride on the street.


We have spent two years trying to convince her to ride her bike.  Within 3 days, we are now trying to convince her, that no, she can not join the next century ride. 

Filed Under: Seriously!!!

Have you heard the news report of people stealing Tide detergent.  That Tide detergent is being used as payment for drugs. 

Yes, Tide.  The detergent in the bright orange bottle.  Yes, that Tide, detergent for clothes.  It is now being stolen, and used as some form of black market currency. 

Some where, some one's mother is very proud.  "Yes, I understand he deals drugs, and robbed a Target, but it was for Tide.  If nothing else, he is taking pride in his appearance by cleaning his clothes."  

Hey, didn't your mother always tell you to wear clean underwear in case you were in a car wreck?

Someone, please help me wrap my brain around this one.  Yes, I know Tide is expensive, which is why I've moved onto other brands.  But, Tide!?!  How did a detergent become a form of currency for drugs?  What is backing this currency, other than its stain fighting properties.  Do I receive premium drugs if I give you Tide plus Febreze?  And, if I want organic drugs must I trade you Tide Free?

Ohh, I foretell an economics processor, somewhere out there, picking up this news story and using it in a lesson. 

Still don't believe me, go search it.  Type in "stolen Tide" and the page will be filled with news stories, which is why I didn't link any to this posting.   

Change of Plans

Scene:  Monday, 4:30pm,

Hubby calls, asking if anything important is happening this week, like on Tuesday night or Wednesday night, maybe Thursday night?

As I'm flipping through my date book, to double check the week's schedule, he explains that he needs to travel out of town for a night, or two, or however long it takes for him to obtain the information he needs for the project he is working on.

At that announcement, my attention moves from the calendar to this week's meal plan.  Because, when Hubby is out of town, my cooking leaves with him.

In fact, one summer, when he traveled, our weekly menu looked something like this; Monday - pizza bagels, Tuesday - chicken nuggets, Wednesday - macaroni and cheese, Thursday - grilled cheese sandwiches, Friday - I don't care, your father is now home, ask him.

At the beginning of the week my week's menu looked like this:  Tuesday - pasta with sausage, Wednesday - stuffed chicken breast, Thursday - spaghetti bolognese. 

When Hubby called the menu was revised  to:  Tuesday - macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets, Wednesday - eat out, Thursday - Costco pizza.

Hubby's trip only took him away from one night, however I think I will stick to the revised menu plan, saving the bolognese for Friday.  Finishing off the red wine the recipe calls for sounds like a good way to end the week.

Time for a Change

Hey, you down there.

Considering it is the second day of spring, do you think you could pull me down from here?

I realize there was little snow this year, and I'm the only snowman you have seen all season long, but I think it is time to move on, for both of us. 

So, if you don't mind, any time soon, I would like to come down, and find a cozy spot in the closet, till next winter. 

I mean, this shovel and bucket are not as light as they look. 

Just Winging It

This past week I did not get around to planning meals for the week.  Thinking of winging it, this is what our dinners looked like.

Sunday:  Leftovers

Monday: Leftovers

Tuesday:  Eat Out

Wednesday:  Leftovers and/or Sandwiches
(The sandwiches were because the kids had eaten, what they called, "the good leftovers".  Yes, that was a lot of leftovers.) 

Thursday: After a trip to Costco, where my original list was for 3 items and I ended up with 10, we enjoyed shredded chicken sandwiches.

Friday:  Having just picked up an order for a flat of strawberries (12 pints) we enjoyed strawberry crepes for dinner.

Saturday:  ????  Whatever it is it won't be leftovers, our fridge is looking a little bare. 

What I've Learned So Far

Last week was one of those weeks.  By Tuesday I began to reflect on the lessons from that week, and it was only Tuesday.  It is now Sunday, and I am just now writing them up.

It was one of those weeks.


Do not finish your workout by the gym's cafe.  What ever she was cooking smelled GOOD.  My workout ended early, I went home and made a grilled provolone cheese and ham sandwich, on rye bread.

When washing the Christmas tree skirt be sure to shake out the needles and branches.
(Yes, I am just now washing the Christmas tree skirt, don't judge.)

No one really wants to sit on the gym floor to watch a 2 hour movie.  Offer the same movie to the kids, with a few extras, in the comfort of your own home, and everyone is happy.

An extra day is not always a good thing.  Thankfully, Leap Year only comes once every 4 years.

A washing machine can leak water, 24 hours after its last run.  (See, "An extra day ...")


It is a new week; new lessons, or fewer lessons.

A Wednesday, That Felt Like a Monday

My alarm went off, at which time I turned it off and went back to sleep.

It is raining.

Everyone is running late: waking up, getting breakfast, getting organized, getting to school, getting to work.

The (brand new) washing machine has a puddle of water in front of it.  I haven't done laundry for 24 hours?

The school car pool line is congested, considering the bell just rang 30 seconds ago.

It is raining.

The garbage truck, I'm following, stops right in front of the driveway I need to turn onto in order to arrive at work.

What am I forgetting?  As we set up the classroom for the kids I know I am forgetting something.

WAIT, photocopies of coloring pages are needed.

It is raining, and now it is thundering.

We are missing 3 kids, we fear the stomach bug has reached our students.

Everyone is grumpy.  No one is happy.  Whine, whine, whine.

It is raining.

Oh wait, now that school is over I remembered what I was forgetting earlier. 

Oh look, did it stop raining?

It is raining, again.

Trying to upload pictures to Facebook, is it just me who has problems?

Everyone is tired, grumpy, and whining.  Let us all head to church with our wonderful attitudes.

So the day has been a long one.  I am ready to go home.  It is now 5 minutes, 10 minutes after children and adult activities were supposed to end at church.  The kids are done, WHERE ARE THEIR PARENTS!

Melt down in the car, on the way home.  "Look kid, I'm sorry you feel this way, but I do not have the emotional capacity to care until tomorrow morning."  

Today was Leap Day.  Sometimes an extra day is a good thing.  Today, not so much.  Then again, it was an extra day, so it doesn't really count.  Tomorrow is a new start, to a new month, with no extra days. 

Oh Irony ... I Can Do With Out

Between early school dismissal, regular school dismissal, car pool, and errands, I swept ED into a well doctor visit.  Simple, right?  Or, it was until the doctor announced that the "scab" under his nose was actually impetigo, not a left over scrape from his bike wipe out several weeks earlier.

Impetigo is a highly contagious skin rash, one of the strep variety of infections.  Or is it staph, I get those two mixed up.  This was the second time ED had contracted it.  This child is prone to rashes, benign rashes, so when he has impetigo we tend not to notice since they have been mild cases.

OK, enough wiki-babble, moving on.

Point is, the afternoon was filled with crazy and I now had a prescription to fill, but not enough time to fill it, and no good place to stop, drop it off, and return to pick it up.  Yes, there are more pharmacies then I can count on my route, but which one to pick from so I would not have to make two trips?

I decided to drop it off at the pharmacy next to the doctor's office.  Since the office and pharmacy are on the other side of town, from where we live, this is not a pharmacy we use often.  It is, however, on Hubby's drive to and from work, so I figured Hubby could stop by on the way home, later that evening, and pick up the prescription.  Plus, of all the other pharmacies I could choose from, this was a local store.  Yes, let us support local when we can.

Simple, right?

The problem was, Hubby did not leave work that evening until 6.  The local pharmacy closes at 6.  No medicine for ED's infection.

The next day was just as crazy, and I ended up doing what I had tried to avoid the day before, an out of my way pick up.  This was decided on when I called Hubby, asking if he might be leaving work before 6, and his answer was a long groan.

'nuff said.

So, with a car FULL of kids, lord have mercy, I took the scenic (i.e. all the way A.R.O.U.N.D. town) route home.  Picked up the cream, and proceeded to drop off all children at their proper housing, and torture my own a little longer with a trip to the grocery store.  "Look kid, you may be tired now, but wait until there is no food for dinner tonight, then you will be whining."

When we got home I set the tube of cream on the counter, next to an identical tube of cream. 

Yes, apparently I already had the prescription cream needed for ED's infection.  The first tube of cream was bought a week earlier for EM's finger, that had a staph infection. (Or, was it strep?)

Can I have my $10 co-pay back please?

Fault Lies ... Where?

The kids were upstairs, playing together, playing well together, albeit a little loud, but I will accept what I can. 

I was in the kitchen, cleaning and organizing. 

There was a clatter of something falling, the sound of scampering feet, and total silence upstairs. 

I walked around the downstairs, noticing nothing out of place I returned to the kitchen.  Hey, if it is broken I will eventually learn about it.  And, now there was silence upstairs. 

A couple minutes later ED comes wondering downstairs and asks, "Mom, did you hear a crashing sound?"

Me:  "Yes, do you know what it was?"

ED: "I heard the noise."

Me:  "So, you were in your room?  You weren't playing with your siblings?"

ED:  "I heard a clattering noise." 

Me:  "Well, I don't know what it was.  I'm sure we will learn eventually."

ED returned upstairs, and I returned to my cleaning and organizing.  Soon after that exchange I hear children at the top of the stairs.  Children chattering, and waiting.  Waiting for mom to walk by so they could confess. 

I discover that JT had created a slingshot out of his robe's belt, and had flung a beach ball from the top of the stairs, trying to aim for the kitchen (which would mean practically hanging over the stair's banister  to reach the kitchen since the location of the kitchen is directly behind our stairs.)  He did not reach the kitchen, instead he knocked down a couple of the iron letters, that spell "family", which sit on our mantel. 

Hence, the clattering noise, and easy enough to pick up and return to their places, which I told JT to do. 

At this point I saw ED, standing behind his siblings, and realized he had witnessed the sling shot incidence.

Me:  "Wait a minute, ED, you saw the slingshot in action?  You saw the letters fall down?  Yet, you came downstairs, acting all innocent to not knowing what happened?  Were you trying to get the other two in trouble?"

ED:  "But, I just gave him the idea of a slingshot, I didn't knock down the letters."

So, to recap.

There was a crashing noise, and quiet children.  ED came downstairs, acting as if he knew nothing about it; when, in fact he had witnessed the entire thing and knew exactly what had happened.  When confronted, all he had to say for himself was that he only gave the idea of a slingshot. 

The boys were told to put on their shoes and take the slingshot outside.  No more slinging in the house, thank you very much. 

:::sigh:::

Left Overs

We are well into January.  Our Christmas tree left our premises before 2012 began.  We have already replaced a washing machine, performed a physics test in the form of a fender bender, celebrated a birthday, and dealt with sickness.

However, there are reminders of Christmas all around our house.  Reminders I will find well into spring.

Pine Needles.  I sweep when the tree comes into the house.  I sweep while the tree is in the house, and perform the ritual deep clean sweep after the tree leaves the house.  Yes, I am still finding pine needles.  Under the sofa, in the sofa, under the run, hanging out of the floorboards and trim.  Yes, today I was pulling pine needles out of the trim.

And, in case you are a fake tree believer, let me tell you, you will also find yourself cleaning pine needles.  Yes, they may be plastic, but they will appear when you least expect them.

Tinsel, glitter, anything shiny and tiny.  No need to say more.

Wrapping paper.  Ripped up pieces, thrown carelessly here and there, and eventually ending up under the sofa, in the sofa, and under the rug.

Christmas Cards.  Some of those late arriving ones ended up in a pile on the counter, and I am just now working my way through this pile of papers.  Merry Christmas!

Those Toy Ties.  (said with gritted teeth)  Ties of any sort.  The wire kind, the string kind.  The plastic loops and rubber band types.

Instructions.  Instructions for games, how to assemble, where to find the battery panel, ....  Instructions.  Instructions that you needed 3 weeks ago, and couldn't find; and, now that you have found them you cannot find the toy.

Christmas Cookies.  Let's face it.  No matter how many we ate.  How many we gave away.  How many we trotted off to family gatherings, there will be a cookies or two left, which no one wants to eat.

Christmas Music.  Apparently I haven't listened to Pandora in awhile, because today when I turned it on Christmas music started to play.  Or, what happened to me last year, was that Christmas music infiltrated a  perfectly good, non-Christmas station.

My Facebook Picture.  Before Christmas I posted a picture of a once 2-year-old child of mine, helping to decorate for Christmas.  It hasn't changed yet. 

I love Christmas as much as the next person, maybe a little more so.  However, when the new year rolls around I'm ready to move on, and clean up.  My house is always a wreck after the holidays, and the sooner I can wipe up all signs of Christmas excess the happier I am.

What reminders of Christmas are you still finding around your house?

Happy New Year.

If Anyone Needs Me ... I'm finding my happy place

I would like to think that I am not a suspicious person, but 2012 is starting out in an expensive, and explosive way, which makes me wonder about the rest of the year. 

Two days into the new year and our washing machine dies.  Hubby did some investigative work and discovered that the rear drum of our front loader had a big hole in it, explaining the constant leaking.  Do we fix, or replace?

We replaced.  And, I now have a brand new, shiny and blue, washing machine.  Which is making me want to replace the dryer with a like model and color to the washing machine.  And, redo my laundry room, which I've been dreaming about since the day we moved in. 

Yep, 2012 is turning into an expensive year.

The following day we woke to snow.  There is a reason why I usually stay home on days like these, away from the untreated, hilly streets, where southerners drive.  We were rear ended at a stop sign. (And to the person sitting in front of us, who didn't seem in a hurry to turn one way or the other, until after we were hit, Seriously!)

Thankfully, we were fine.  Our car, which is actually a minivan, is fine, other than a slight indentation and some read paint on the bumper.  The guy who hit us, in a tiny puddle jumper, did not fair as well.  His air bags deployed and the windshield broke. 

That evening Hubby mentioned that his car battery was acting funny.  Yes, it may be time for a new battery, or maybe it was just the cold.  Since the weather has warmed up the battery is working fine, so we will blame it on the cold. 

Now, some may say that all this means that we are now free and clear for a great year, we have the bad stuff out of the way. 

Others may advise me to crawl under the covers and not come out until December. 

A third voice would tell me to get over it.  Bad things happen, and there is no great cosmic force keeping track.

Either way, if you need me, I'll be hiding under my bed until December.  Enjoy 2012. 

Role Reversal

Today marked the end of our two week vacation at home. 

Thankfully, the return to our regular schedules are staggered throughout the week.  After two weeks of slothfulness I don't think I could take a cold turkey reentry to reality.  I returned to work this morning, while Hubby and the kids stayed home. 

I like this set up:

1. I was only responsible for myself, getting myself up (with Hubby's help), ready, fed, and out the door.
2. A "to-do" list, for everyone's enjoyment, was left behind while I went to work.  The kids dusted, swept, Hubby took down Christmas decorations and washed dishes.  They even stripped beds and started the laundry.  Seriously, I can get use to this "mom leaves for work while everyone else stays home and cleans house" situation.  
3. Then, after my grueling 4 hours of work (yes, that was tongue in cheek) I returned home to hugs from my kiddies, and the undying love and gratitude of my husband.  He loves spending time with the kids, but he can't understand how I survived 10 years of being home, alone, with children. 

Not a bad way to start the new year.  

Celebrating!

This past week I had one more thing to celebrate, the creation of NyQuil.   

Let me just say, I. Hate. Colds.  I LOVE cold relieving drugs.  Even more so after spending around 5 years, straight, either pregnant or nursing, when I couldn't take medicines for colds.  Believe me, I remember Every. Single. Cold/Cough I had during those times.

There was the horrendous cough I had while pregnant with our oldest; and trying a homeopathic method to calm the coughs before I cracked a rib.  While warmed grapefruit juice does taste nice, it does nothing for a cough.

There was the cold I had on 9/11, and stayed up half the night, watching news recaps because I couldn't sleep.  Then again, I don't think it was my lack of drugs keeping me up that night.  Most of the country was up all night watching the news.

When ED was an infant we all had a cold, that lingered for weeks.  The burp clothes became tissues.

... Let us just say I am now extremely grateful every time I can take medicines.  Even more grateful when Hubby is home in the morning, like he has been this past week, so I can take a full dose of the medicine.  That stuff really knocks me out, and unless I can sleep it off (meaning sleep till 9 or 10am) I can only take half a dose.

I know, my life is so complicated sometimes.  This probably falls under the file of "First World Problems".  However, a girl can still be grateful, even for the insignificant things.

I Done Good

My children know me so well.

Before Christmas break, the kid's school had a Christmas Gift store, kids could exchange their good behavior tickets for gifts.

EM "bought" me this:

A little notepad.  Because I love making notes.  I love to-do lists.  I love note pads.

ED brought home a red fleece blanket.  I love blankets, especially fleece ones.  My living room is covered in blankets.  It is my personal belief that every living room in the world should have at least one blanket.

That is what my children gave to me for Christmas.  A mother could not ask for anything more, affirmation that I am teaching them well.

Murphy Rises Again

Otherwise known as:  Next Time, Follow My Hostess Gift Rules.

As a rule, I don't give alcohol as a hostess gift.

I don't have any great prohibitionist reason.  In fact, if you want to come to my house and bring a hostess gift, I'm into red wines at the moment, especially Shiraz and Malbec.

No, part of the reason comes from my cheapness, it just doesn't look good to give a cheap bottle of alcohol as a gift. 

Another reason would be my complete lack of knowledge when it comes to alcohol ... sorry Dad, apparently I learned nothing from all those years with a liquor cabinet in the house. 

Then, there are my office working days, where I, a lowly administrative assistant, had no use to compete with the brokers for the boss' attention by handing over an expensive bottle of liquor.  Plus, how many bottles of wine/liquor does one person need ... that was rhetorical, don't answer that. 

No, I usually stick with a nice ornament.  Something they could hang on their tree, if they so desire, and completely forget that it came from us, or use it as a hostess gift of their own.

I am not above re-gifting. 

So, all this to say that, as a rule, we don't give alcohol as a hostess gift, until last week when we did give a bottle of wine.

I had run out of  "hostess gift quality" ornaments (i.e. unique).   I wasn't making a trip out into the craziness we call Christmas shopping, to find some "hostess gift quality" ornaments.  I do that after Christmas.

I mean, there comes a point when you just have to shut yourself inside your house and announce you are never leaving again until mid-January.

I have reached that point.

Since I had just been to the store (not the one with unique ornaments), and since I had just stocked up on wine, (we are looking at 2 weeks of Christmas vacation, with EVERYONE home.  Mom is trying to make it merry) I was moving out of my comfort zone and giving a bottle of wine. 

Plus, I could pass along the wine bottle bag sitting in a drawer (re-gifting people).

We arrived, Hubby hands over the wine to our host, who places it on the entry table, and leaves it there.  I'm not even sure if he opened the bag to look at the bottle.  Hmmm, that was strange.

We enter the party, it is Friday and I'm looking for something good to drink.  Ah wine, but the bottles were not opened, and there is no cork screw in sight.  Strange.

I see people drinking beer, so I begin my search.

I should note that I had already said hello to several people, and filled my plate with food.  No, I have not ignored everyone in search for the alcohol.

I find a mish mash of coolers, with a mish mash of beer inside of them.  Nothing to make me WANT a bottle of beer (not my first drink of choice anyway, unless it is summer).  In fact, it looks like all this beer was carried in by the party attenders.  Which, is not unusual, but little clues were beginning to add up.

1. The gift bagged bottle of wine was still sitting on the entry table, all alone.  There are no other bottles, or hostess looking gifts in the vicinity.
2. The bottles of wine are not open.  There is no corkscrew in sight.  There are no wine glasses in sight.  This is a swanky house.  The host and hostess are past the frat house reunion stage, I can't imagine them expecting people to drink wine out of Solo cups.  Not that I'm above such things, I'll take my wine from the bottle if necessary.
3. A BYOB assortment of beers (meaning all the cheap stuff was left for those of us out of the know.)

Ummmm, our host and hostess don't drink.  Oh my goodness.  The one time we give a bottle of wine as a hostess gift, it was to a dry couple.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the ...

As we were carrying our Christmas tree down to the shake, net and pay area, a school friend of ED's was walking up the hill. 

For some reason our accident prone child was carrying the hand saw.  (Hubby and JT were carrying the tree, I was busy snapping pictures, and giving it to my 6 year old made me think OSHA would be jumping out of the woods and serving me with a fine, so someone had to carry it.)

ED's school friend was walking up the hill, towards us, also carrying a hand saw.  

The boys saw each other, they yelled their names, and then :::gasp::: they began to run towards each other, saws in hand, raising their arms to hug each other. 

"Put down the hand saws before you hug each other", I yelled. 

:::sigh:::  The book I could fill, with all the phrases I've said, as a parent, the sayings I never imagined coming from my lips. 

Don't Eat That!

At some point, during every school year, my children's teachers will receive a home made food item as a gift.  Christmas, Valentine's, Teacher Appreciation, End of Year ... I have found giving gifts to teachers helps when you have a difficult child. 

Every time I make a food gift my children will ask, beg, and whine to help, but they can't because I don't.

Did I mention I'm a little Type A.

I do, however, allow the children to deliver "their" gifts.  I tend to hover in the background, allowing the teacher and student to have their moment.  Then I hear the question, "did you help make this?"

Ah, the guilt sets in.  "No", I will reply, along with the child, "I'm a little too Type A to allow the kids to help me."  Well, that and I'm usually constrained by time, so I'm just looking to complete the job with minimal mess and drama. 

However, the question always makes me feel guilty.  No, I do not allow my children to help me, to learn a skill and craft a gift for their teacher.

I used to feel guilty, until I heard this story.  Now, there is no more guilt.

I co-worker was talking about her student teaching experience, and one of the pieces of advice her cooperating teacher gave her was, "never eat any food your student gives you."  Meaning, unless you know the family, you may not want to eat anything from their kitchen.  Even if you know the family, if the child helped make it you may be taking your health into your own hands.

Ah, now that question is put into a new perspective.  The teachers were not judging my worthiness as a parent by asking if the kids helped make it, they were just wondering if it was safe to eat. 

Maybe, this year I'll attach a sticker, "No Children Participated in the Making of this Food Item."

Listen Up!

It is true, my nature tends to lean on the road rage side of driving, aka I yell a lot when driving.

And, there are some drivers that cause me to yell a little more then usual.

Drivers who tend to make be yell the loudest are those who do not use the provided center lane when they are turning left.  Instead they stop in the middle of the moving lane, stopping traffic behind them, waiting for traffic (2 lanes over) to clear, and then turn left.

Really?!?

The fact that there is a center lane, with a curving arrow point to the left, means nothing to you?

So, for all those who wonder why there is a third lane, in the center of the street, with a curving arrow pointing to the left, here is a short tutorial ... since you seem to have forgotten since taking that driver's ed class.

(Note, that this is taken from the Virginia DMV handbook; however, I'm taking a wild guess that it is the same in most U.S. states.)

"On three-lane roads with traffic moving in both directions, road markings show when drivers may use the center lane for making left turns or for passing.


If the center lane is marked by a single broken yellow line on both sides, drivers traveling in either direction may use the center lane for passing.


If both sides of the center lane are marked by a solid yellow line and a broken yellow line, drivers traveling in either direction may use the lane for making left turns.  However, they may not travel further than 150 feet in this
lane."

OK, so, now you know.  That center lane, the one that has caused you to scratch your head all these years in bewilderment, "why would they build a lane no one drives on, that darn stimulus package, what a waste", is there for a reason.  I am suggesting you use it.

Thank you!