The Crab Chronicles

Gather Round the Fire[pit]

Well, aside from going to Kroger and making a pot of chili and a pumpkin pie, I didn't get much done today, but at the end of the day Michael had a cookout around the firepit, which was fun for him, I know.

As soon as all the boys had arrived, I walked out onto the back patio and made a funny observation. These guys have all been Michael's buddies for several years now, and all of them have suddenly grown, and grown, and grown...

So there were 4 sets of very long legs all stretched towards the fire, all the boys bundled up in sweatshirts and/or hoodies, and there was Michael in shorts and flip flops, legs tucked underneath him as he fed the fire or roasted hotdogs - or brats or sausages, not sure which. I got all of them. Bart and Clay ate bowls of chili, which was fine. It's a good, filling meal.

A little while ago they all came in, and immediately discovered the candy in my living room. Hopefully it distracted from the horribly tarnished silver. [Which is so tarnished now it looks like gold. Ack. Never get around to that chore...]

Anyway, without further ado, here are some shots. You should be able to click on them and make them bigger.

Nice shot of Mike's chin, huh?! I think what he's holding is the tomahawk he got from his uncle, which he uses a lot now that firewood is involved.

The only explanation I have for this is that Bart wanted us to admire his lovely hair, and Colton was cold. Matthew was playing peek-a-boo.

Nice view of COlton showing how he can drink from a mug like a big boy; Matthew posing in profile in case I want to strike a coin; and Bart showing off his cute cap.

Bart is attacking a piece of wood, and it looks sorta like a hand made of fire is trying to tickle his nose. [Love taking photos of fire!]

This is a bit too dark, but it's kind of a neat shot because here it appears the fire is tickling Matthew's stomach.

Similar shot with better light...

This is hysterical - as long as you know that Matthew's butt never actually caught fire. Perspective is a funny thing...

FInally coaxed a smile out of Bart.

Cute one of Bart and Matthew on the living room sofa.

Cute one of Clay, who is turning into such a handsome young man, and such a sweetie. Colton looks like a grownup here, to me - and he's the youngest of the group.

This one is funny. I have no idea what Colton was doing with his hand... LOL

Nice shot of Bart's armpit...

Finally, everyone was relaxing in the family room.

I was so glad all of Mike's buddies could come over before the Thanksgiving holidays take everyone away to different gatherings.

One interesting note, all the boys are athletes. Matthew and Clay are tennis players. Bart is on the swim team and on the water polo team. Colton does baseball and tennis. Michael does tennis and wrestling. All good boys, and smart. We are so blessed they are in our lives.

Wrestling and Shopping

I was sitting here thinking dark thoughts about my total lack of skills as a photographer and I remembered a funny and ironic quote:

"Amateurs built the ark [as in Noah's ark] but professionals built the Titanic."

So yesterday I spent a good portion of the day at a wrestling match in Kennesaw which is up the road, over yonder [about 45 minutes away]. Of course, I got on 285 and they were working on it and that delayed me getting there. Then I got lost, didn't see the turnoff, and suddenly found myself up in Acworth. Now, lots of my people are from up around Acworth and it's a nice little town. But my boy was wrestling in Kennesaw.

There followed a series of events that are, in my life, unprecedented, but will become normal - at least for the next 3 months. I encountered a rube, hiked a mountain, was robbed, deafened, and watched a lot of people throw themselves on the ground.

I turned around and headed back down 41 to Kennesaw and found my turn, after stopping at a Quik Trip and asking a local guy. "Take a right at the top of the next hill," he'd drawled. "Can you give me a landmark?" I asked, anxiously. "Well, yeah, there's a Shell station there," he'd replied, looking at me like I was a special kind of moron. I wanted to shout "I live in ATLANTA, Dude! Civilization! Why in pure-T hell would I need to know my way around here, hmmm?!? I'm just picturing your redneck butt in downtown Atlanta, looking like Gomer in the hood!" - but I didn't say that because I was Raised Right. I just jumped in my car and left.

I finally find the high school where he's wrestling. It's a monolith. It's way up on a hill, too, and I nearly have a heart attack getting up to the gym. There are a dozen school buses parked in the lot, and 500 minivans, SUVs, and pickup trucks, all taking the choice spots.

I get in, and some pimply kid wants me to fork over $5. I fork it over, grudgingly. You don't have to pay to watch your kid play tennis. Jeez.

And then I enter a world of screaming, whistle blowing, and boys writhing around on the floor.I don't like crowds. I don't like screaming people. I haven't been around huge rednecks in a long time.

I feel like a bookish Liliputian amongst the giants. I find the purple and white outfits of our team, and the small group of parents. Nobody is talking. No point to it. There's too much noise.

I was able to chat with Michael, for a moment. He made his weight limit [120] barely. He'd been eating really well all week, but that's a tough weight for him to get to right now because he's always so hungry and he's building muscle in the 3 hour daily workouts.

Friday night he weighed 121. He ate a small bowl of chicken salad and a cucumber. No breakfast Saturday morning. He weighed 120 after he went to the bathroom. Poor kid.

So I was in the small room watching matches for a little while but I didn't see Michael wrestle.

We next moved to the main gym and the photo below [made with my phone] shows what it looked like:

Michael is right on the middle, wearing a purple and white jacket, standing on the yellow floor, next to a boy wearing a white thing on his head.

Shortly after I took this photo, Michael went out to wrestle and the other team forfeited. According to my friend Bronwyn, forfeits are common. Her son Ian wrestled all 4 years at Lakeside.

My friend Kate, who lives in Acworth, came over and we had a good visit, outside the gym while we ate sandwiches. Her son Tommy is a 7th grader and he got to see the wrestling for the first time. He is now as tall as me, which is mind-blowing. I first met Kate in 2003 when I was adopting Alesia and Tommy was a toddler.

I talked to some other parents, briefly. They were as clueless as me about what was happening. Lots of parents don't go to the wrestling matches, apparently.

Since the matches went all afternoon and I wanted to get back to check on Mother, I left at 2. My ears were vibrating from all the noise. I walked back down the mountain and re-entered civilization gratefully.

I got on Barrett Parkway, and I swear everyone in Atlanta decided to park their cars there yesterday. I sat there fuming, having to use the potty, and I finally said to hell with it and got off the road. There was a Bed Bath & Beyond and I ran in there to the potty.

Of course, that is maybe my all-time favorite store. We needed potholders. So I ended up spending money. I got potholders, and.... found one Christmas gift, a new skillet for Mother, a water bottle for Michael, new placemats, and some things for his lunchbag. It's a good thing the store was crowded and I stupidly forget and wore my prescription sunglasses into the store.

Otherwise, I could've been in there for hours and hours, in a different dimension of time and space.

Now, I know you're puzzled, if you're a regular reader. I DO NOT LIKE SHOPPING - in general. The places I love to shop are thrift stores, hardware stores, and Bed Bath & Beyond. They tempt me mightily.

After I left, Michael finally got to wrestle, he said when I picked him up at school at 5:45. The other boy just threw him on the ground and pinned him quickly.

He was NOT in a good mood last night. I reminded him that the first time he played tennis in a match, he got his butt kicked. He said he doesn't recall that. "OK, well, next time you will be more prepared, Dude."

He didn't really cheer up until he got home and inhaled a sandwich from Jersey Mike's.

A little while later I asked him if he would sit with me and Mother while we ate, and just keep us company. He ate some Buitoni 3 cheese ravioli and sauteed zucchini, and a bit of smoked salmon.

For dessert he had some raisins.

So he is eating well, but still. We watched Scary Movie 3 last night and he went upstairs and collapsed on the bed, sound asleep by the time I got Mother squared away and got upstairs. I covered him up and turned out the light. He's been asleep almost 12 hours and I am not waking him up.

Dream on baby. You'll get 'em next time.

And hopefully I will remember my good camera and not get lost...

And there will be no Bed Bath & Beyond to lure me in and relieve me of all my hard-earned money, please God...

Wrestlemania

OK, I was going to blog but I have to get up tomorrow at 5:15 to get Michael to school by 6, so he can go to Kennesaw and wrestle, or as we like to say here in Georgia, WRASSLE.So I am turning in.

I will post more tomorrow after the match!

Flashback: the 1980's

I love watching my son react to movies from the 80's. We started watching Weekend At Bernie's, which I remember from years ago as being very funny.I got it from Netflix and didn't say a word to Michael about it, except "It's a comedy."

We started watching the movie and as soon as Bernie "died" Michael's first comment was "The guy is DEAD! He would be STINKING and NASTY!" - totally missing the fun/suspension of disbelief element. We haven't had time to finish the whole movie but I know he's hoping it will perhaps turn into a horror movie and the corpse WILL become bloated and putrid, any minute now.

Of course, when I watch movies from the 80's I just have a flashback, remembering how we all spent so much time getting our hair to look like that.

I used to allot about 20 minutes every morning to my hair, and it wasn't enough time.

I also wore shoulder pads and for once in my life, for almost an entire decade, it looked like I actually had shoulders, not just an enormous skull that appears out of nowhere. Even some of my tee shirts had shoulder pads.

I also used to wear pantyhose every day. If I could recoup all the money I spent on pantyhose over the years I could afford a new car, y'all.

When I hear any of Peter Gabriel's hit songs from the record "So" it's like I time travel right back to the 80's, especially this song:

In Your Eyes This was me in about 1985, when I had just finished college. Why I wore a skirt to have my photo made with a basset hound, I will never know.

This was actually around 1990. I had lost a bunch of weight. I still have those jeans somewhere. They actually fit me [then], unlike most any other pair of pants I've ever owned.

I could actually dance in them. This is one of my fave dance songs, Stomp, by the Brothers Johnson. That was dance music, y'all, none of this crazy stuff they make now that's a heinous mishmash of rap and old songs ripped up, and nasty lyrics, and I don't know what all. And why do all the girls sing like little girls? And why do the guys [hello Bruno Mars?!] sing like girls??

In the 70's and 80's, people could sing.

If you liked a little more intellectual music there was Peter Gabriel or Sting, or even Kate Bush. Remember Running Up That Hill? Awesome stuff.

[OK JUST SHUT UP YOU PEOPLE YOUNGER THAN MY SHOES! Yeah yeah yeah, I AM OLDER THAN DIRT!]

I used to have to pass inspection before I left the house every morning to go to high school. If I had a hole in my jeans I had to wear something else. Now the kids buy jeans pre-ripped!

Now "ripped" is a good thing.

Now "hot" doesn't mean uncomfortably warm. I still don't like the word "hottie." Ick.

In high school we all wore blazers and knee-length skirts if we wanted to "dress up."

The last time I saw girls at Mike's school "dressed up" they were wearing skirts and dresses so short they were what I'd call gynecologically short. My mother would've had a heart attack before she would've let me leave the house wearing something like that.

Wow, this is turning into an Old Fogie Rant, huh? I don't care.

I hate hearing my son whine about doing projects or papers. He can do most projects in less than an hour, with a computer. I would spend hours in the library, pulling heavy, dusty old books down from the shelves, trying to make 3x5 cards that would magically become a brilliant paper or project. And we had to be quiet in the library. And we had to type our papers on typewriters.

If you had told me when I was in high school that one day I would give my child his own phone to carry around in his pocket, when he was 14 years old, I would've laughed. Michael finds it annoying his phone doesn't do much besides calls and texting. I say want some cheese with that whine, boy?!

Everything was better when I was young. Even big 80's hair.

Now I am going to get an aerobic workout [never hear that phrase any more, huh?!] to one of my fave songs of twenty years ago, She Drives Me Crazy. Listen and bop along, y'all.

 

Headlines

Well no wonder I was cold last night. The HIGH today is supposed to be 50. That's like a January day in Atlanta, not a November day. We should be having highs in the 70's, typically.

Global warming?! Not here.

I might even have to put a blanket on the bed!!

I have a few things to say but no coherent essay type blog, so I decided to run headlines, because, well, they sound fun.

 

THANKSGIVING IMMINENT!

Next week is Thanksgiving. This blows my mind. We now have to decide on a meat. None of us are big on turkey and it will be just me, Mother, Michael and Bruce. Sometimes we get a tiny turkey breast and boil it. Sometimes we do pork roast, or beef tenderloin. The one thing we always have is dressing.

Mother found a recipe for dressing made in the crock pot, which we will try:

Crock Pot Dressing

1 cup butter, melted
2 cups chopped onion
2 cups chopped celery
1/4 cup fresh parsley
2 cups mushrooms (if you use canned, drain them)
2 eggs beaten
3 1/2 to 4 1/2 cups chicken broth, or enough to moisten well
13 cups dried bread, cubed
1 1/2 teas. Poultry seasoning
2 teas. Salt
2 teas. Sage
1 teas. Thyme
1 teas. Pepper
1/2 teas. Marjoram, (optional)

Melt butter in fry pan and saute onion and celery until soft. Mix
with remaining ingredients and toss well. Pack in large crock pot.
Cover. Cook on high for 45 minutes, then turn to low and continue
cooking for 6-8 hours.

It occurred to me I am writing an awful lot about food lately. There are other things going on, but not much.

BROCCOLI SPOTTED AT MY HOUSE - ALERT THE MEDIA

I made a broccoli salad last night, at Mother's request. I hate broccoli. Michael ate two big helpings, surprisingly. Mom thought it would last several days. Nope.

It's super easy to make. We use frozen broccoli florets but you can use fresh, raw or steamed. Add mayonnaise, a few drops lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste, about 1/4 cup chopped onion, onion powder, and raisins. Lots of raisins. Also, if you have them, toasted pecans. Sounds weird, but it's yummy, if you like broccoli.

WRESTLING BOY

Michael has his first wrestling match on Saturday. He has to be at the school, ready to go, at 6 a.m.! That means I have to get up, dress, and feed him, and be out the door by 5:45. Then I plan to come back home and go back to bed.

I will go watch him wrestle, though. I told him, if I see the other kid he's wrestling make any moves to be mean or unfair, he will have to wrestle me, too. I don't think that will happen, though.

SOUTHERN MAMAS

I walked in Mike's room last night at bedtime and he had started changing his sheets, all by himself. I always help him. He had the fitted sheet on, already, and I just started tucking it in some more. It's an old bedframe and hard to deal with. I said "Bless your heart, look how much you've done already."

"I knew you would say that, Mom. Bless your heart," he replied, imitating my accent. "Oh now hush, you better be glad you've got a southern mama," I shot back. The rest of the time I used a harsh New Yawk accent, which made him laugh. Then I reverted back to my usual voice after I kissed him and turned off the light.

"Just remember this, Dude, when you grow up, look for a southern gal with a swing on her back porch, and you'll be a happy man!"

I wasn't talking about furniture. He knew what I meant.

HEARTLINES

Thanks for all the prayers for my uncle Don. He made it thru his pacemaker surgery and is due to go home today. He, his brother Bobby, and Mother all have pacemakers now. (Well, Bobby is in heaven so presumably doesn't, but he was the first of the siblings to get one, years ago..)

One thing you can say about us - we take a licking and keep on ticking! [only people over 40 will know what I mean by that...LOL]

Eggplant Parmigiana

Yesterday was a day off from work, but there was still plenty of work to do. Those of you who are moms know exactly what I mean.

I had to get new brake pads on my car, do laundry, get the family room ready for the carpet to be cleaned, and take Michael to an appointment to get his prosthetic fixed.

I bought eggplants the other day at Kroger, with no clear idea what to do with them. Yesterday afternoon, after I'd prepared some ground beef to be made into meatballs, I decided to make Eggplant Parmigiana. [I will call it EP from now on so I don't have to type so dang much.]

The Zerorez folks were here to clean the family room carpet, which desperately needed it. I had a funny conversation with the technician, James, when he got there. He looked at the beat up, dirty rug - Coco spends a lot of time in there - and looked skeptical when I said the last time Zerorez was here they got it looking new.

After he had been cleaning it a while, I went over and checked it. It looked new. I pointed something out to James which I consider an important life lesson.

Never buy cheap carpet. It's not worth it, if you have kids or dogs.

Quality carpet can take a beating, and if you get it cleaned professionally it looks great. Cheap carpet will just look cheap and won't clean up well.

Fortunately, I live in Northern Georgia and there are tons of mills that make carpet nearby. I have a guy I've bought carpet from for more than twenty years, and I always buy remnants of really expensive carpet at deep discounts.

Anyway, I started making EP while he was working. It occurred to me I had no recipe. All the cookbooks are in the family room. The downstairs computer is in the family room. It's off limits. So I could either wing it, go upstairs (which I didn't want to do) or not fix the EP. I winged it.

I will make it again soon, and I'm sure I will figure out a better way to do it, but it turned out quite tasty. I sliced the eggplant, dipped the slices in ranch dressing, then breadcrumbs, and fried them in canola oil. Then I put them in a 9x13 pan and covered them in tomato sauce and parmesan cheese.

Now you can see why I don't take more photos of food. My food always ends up looking like some screwed up science project done by aliens on crack.

It was yummy, despite appearances. I baked it for 30 minutes at 350.

Michael ate one bite and said he was full. He's having it for breakfast this morning.

Feeding Us Well

I am not a great cook but I think I am pretty good, and I am always seeking new recipes and new ways to do things.

I find myself looking at photos of stand mixers wistfully, wishing I had one. This Kitchenaid Artisan Mixer is the one I really want. Last time I saw one in a store, in Brandsmart, I showed it to Michael and told him maybe one day I can save up and get one. I mix cakes with a mixer that's about 35 years old. 

Other expenses take precedent, however, like getting new brake pads for the car.

Anyway, Michael and I spent a lot of time in Kroger yesterday, with me reading a lot of labels. I am trying to get back to a more healthy eating regimen, and it's simpler now that his wrestling coach is talking to the boys about healthy eating, and urging them to watch their weight. Michael is trying to drop a few lbs. so he can wrestle in the 120 lb. class. He is about 5'5 so that's not an unhealthy weight for him.

We are fortunate that we shop at a huge Kroger with a terrific natural foods section. We bought a tub of pumpkin seeds because they have a lot of protein and will make a good snack for Michael. I am going to roast them for him. I have tried them too, and I like them. I will use olive oil instead of butter, though.

My friend Cindy published an intriguing story from Portland Oregon about a newscaster who tried a vegan diet for 60 days and decided to stick with it. I kinda wish I could try something like that, but I love cheese too much, I'm afraid. I'd also have to still cook meat for Mother, so it would complicate my life, which I don't need right now.

I did make a Chicken Taco Soup last night that turned out pretty well, I thought. It had green peppers from our garden, red peppers I bought, black beans, Ro-tel tomatoes, tomato sauce, a lot of onion, and some diced chicken and a little bit of chorizo sausage. I added some brown rice, and at first it didn't cook down, but it finally got there. That is something I need to work on, cooking brown rice the right way. Mike ate a big bowl with a dollop of sour cream.

Our other dish was sliced cantaloupe and pineapple.I told him if he can stick to fruit, instead of candy and cookies, that will be a big help in weight control.

*************************************************************************************************************************

In February 2011 I faced a tough situation when my mother had to have a pacemaker implanted due to ventricular tachycardia. We learned just the other day that Mother's brother Don needs a pacemaker, and his surgery is tomorrow. Please keep him in your prayers, and my aunt Jane.

Don served his country during the Korean War.

HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL VETERANS AND THEIR FAMILIES! YOUR SACRIFICE IS APPRECIATED!!

My dad was in the army in 1951-52, and spent most of his time in Germany. He also traveled around, and I have a number of color photos from those trips. He is pictured below next to cannons. I think it's in Denmark.

Happy Veteran's Day!

Taking After Grandpa

I sometimes see little signs that my kids are very much like their grandfather, Grandpa Tony as we refer to him around here, even though he died in 1996.

For example, late yesterday afternoon Michael was very hungry and I took him to the nearby Chinese buffet for early dinner. The first thing he chooses to eat is this fish:

He proceeded to eat the entire fish, very carefully, and loved it. We had been discussing how to eat healthfully. His other choices were boiled shrimp, marinated mushrooms, and some slices of honedew melon. I thought he did well.

My dad loved to fish. He took us fishing from the time we were tiny. I could catch and clean a fish, by myself, before I was 5 years old.

I used to see Dad's mannerisms in Alesia, all the time. She had a way of bustling around, snapping her fingers, that I had seen my dad do many times.

Yes, my kids are adopted and not biologically related to Dad but nevertheless, they are his only grandchildren and I see him in them.

Dad also was very affectionate, and I see that in Michael. He had a tough week last week in wrestling practice, and now has a bad bruised place on his leg. We are trying to take it very easy this weekend. He has needed more quiet "Mom time" than usual, and is more huggy than usual. I get that. When I am really upset, even now, I want my mama.

***************************************************************************************************************

On another note: we took the Toyota Highlander I am driving now, which is actually Mother's car, in to the car wash yesterday to be washed and detailed. It was a beautiful day here, with highs in the 70's. So Mike and I are sitting in the waiting area and I am reading. Michael points out this goofy looking man wearing a pistol, in plain sight, in a hip holster. He wasn't a cop. He was smirking, and he walked around like he owned the place. I was glad there were no small children in there to see that.

I am not anti-pistol, not at all. I just think wearing it like you're in the old west while you're in a car wash waiting room is idiotic. It did remind me of this funny bit from one of my all-time fave movies, Blazing Saddles:

 

Travel Blogging

Michael and watched a delightful movie last night, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, which is almost entirely set in India. I love it.

Michael, who has a pulled muscle in his leg and was lying on the couch swaddled in a blanket, was less enthused, but I attribute that to our ages. He is 16. I am 50 and much closer to retirement age.

It was a chance to watch some amazing actors [Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson] plus some British character actresses whose faces I know but not their names [Penelope Wilton, Celia Imrie]. All the performances are outstanding.

The story is about a group of retirees who for various reasons don't want to stay in England and so they go to The Marigold Hotel to retire. All of them are delightful, witty, intelligent, etc. - except Maggie Smith's character, who starts off the movie decidedly UNpleasant but ends up much nicer. She is a versatile enough actress and pulls that subtle transformation off flawlessly.

It's also directed by John Madden, who directed one of my all-time favorite films Shakespeare in Love.

Huge bonus: feel like I've been to India now. Watch the trailer and tell me you don't want to see this.

 

The character played by Judi Dench blogs about India, and we hear her blog entries in the narration. And thus my only faint criticism of the film.These snippets are heard in the trailer:

"This is a new and different world. The challenge is to cope with it, and not just to cope, but thrive."

"India, like life itself I suppose, is about what you bring to it."

The problem is that if you're writing a daily blog, which I know something about [cough cough] you are not going to be profound or even pithy, every stinking day.

My blog about Michael's adoption was a lot about my 4 weeks in Kazakhstan, the most exotic place I have ever been. A sample:

A word about yurts, and Kazakhstan. As best I can tell it’s a hut made of heavy felt, and the nomadic folks who lived in Kaz in ancient times always lived in yurts. Kaz is part of the old Silk Road, which is the route traders took from Europe to China for hundreds of years. The culture was built around horses, which is why you find horsemeat on the menu a lot, even now.

Most of my time was spent in the orphanage, visiting Michael, which I tried to document in as much detail as possible, since Mother and many of my friends and relatives were reading every day:

Michael spent some time coloring in a Lion King coloring book I had brought him, and we played with the translation device. He was able to type in a lot of Russian words and get the English  word and seemed fascinated. I also quizzed him on his American words – please, thank you, boy, girl, mother, father, brother, sister, dog. He practiced writing his American name. We sang the ABC song.

[looking down the street from my hotel in Petropavlovsk]

I wish I had been able to say profound things every day, but I am not that good a writer. I tried to not dwell too much on the weird or negative stuff, like the fact if you are in a store and have to use the bathroom, too bad. Most public places will not have a clean bathroom for you, or let you use the bathroom at all. You can easily order something like soup and inadvertently eat horsemeat. The streets are filled with filthy snow most of the time. Most of the women dress like hookers. That sort of thing.

I love reading travel blogs by real people who are honest about their experiences. It makes me feel like I've been there.

I have an old friend from high school who is in Italy and posting some nice photos, but I want to READ about her trip, not just see photos on Facebook. I know, I am being unreasonable, not everyone has the ability to write, but still...

I like to live vicariously.

Two of the attorneys I work with are in San Francisco. I'd love to hear about that.

My cousin is fixing to move to Miami. I'd like to hear how his Spanish is coming along.

There are interesting people all around me going to interesting places and I'd like to hear their stories, and forget about all my caretaking duties and my 30 item To Do List [from hell] and the fact that I lost the cap to the car's gas tank yesterday and my kitchen is dirty, and dirty dishes seem to multiply no matter how often I run the dishwasher. REAL LIFE! Ack.

If you are a friend or family member and you are reading this, did you know you can go on Blogger and start a blog, for free, and write about whatever you like? You can post every day, or once a month, or just once and then not again. Posting photos is easy. There's a whole big world out there to blog about and blogging is EASY PEASY y'all.

I have no plans to ever get on an airplane again, please God, so I want to read about people I know in exotic places. Or even just in Florida.

So start typing.

 

Cars Make Money Disappear

Why is it that if someone puts my car up in the air, money mysteriously drains out of my wallet??!? It never fails.Thanks be to God I have a decent job.

I always take my car to the gas station where we know the guysbecause we feel they are honest. This is important if you're a single woman.

Last weekend they were only supposed to change the oil and check the tires.

Next thing I know, Nate, a huge guy with blonde hair and an accent much more southern than mine, tells me my tires are bald and fixing to pop any minute. Dang. "You gotta get them thangs fixed, Ms. Thompson, 'cause I'd hate for you to be out drivin' around and them things pop on ya," he says, worried frown on his brow.

I swallow hard. "Um, no, no I don't want that," I reply, stunned.

I go home and call my brother. He doesn't know Nate and worries I am being scammed. He tells me something about seeing if a penny will go into the tread? And Lincoln's beard? HUH???

I try the penny test and it falls off the tire. I figure that's bad. Michael looks alarmed. "We need new front tires, Mom. Nate was right!"

Genetically, Michael just knows this.

Genetically, you could tell me the confarbulator is jumogowied and if I don't get it fixed the whole car will vaporize us into a different dimension of time and space, and my brain will not really process it. DADGUMMIT HOW THE HELL MUCH MONEY IS THAT GONNA COST ME?!?!? will be going through my head, but on the outside, since I was raised right, I will simply furrow my brow and say something like "Oh dear, well, let me check my bank account and my schedule and see when I can get that bad old thingamabobby fixed. I'll call y'all about bringing it back in."

So, after Nate has called me three times to remind me about the tires, finally I go in late yesterday afternoon and I'm sitting there peacefully reading my book. Nate comes ambling out of the service bay, brow furrowed, again. I tense up.

Then I learn, after he has fixed the tires and back brake light, that I need new brake pads. And if I don't get 'em soon, I'll need new rotors and that's gonna be REAL expensive. DADGUMMIT HOW THE HELL MUCH MONEY IS THAT GONNA COST ME?!?!? immediately pops into my brain. I force myself to simply ask, in a quiet voice, "Um, about how much will that run me?"

"That there'll run you $180."

"Including labor?"

"Yes M'am."

I mentally add $100 since they always ballpark it low. "Let me talk to Mother and I'll get back to you," I say quietly.

So finally I am on my way last night, and I go to pick up Michael from wrestling. He gets in the car without his glasses. He tells me that he was running up and down the stairs, and he got sweaty and took them off and put them down on top of a fire extinguisher. Then he forgot about them.

Then he went back after practice and they were gone. What a shock.

Oh joy.

There's another $100-$200 that's going out of my wallet my weekend.

And he really needs contacts.

It never ends.