Saturday, December 31, 2011

Resolutions I Can Keep!


 I will cuddle every puppy I meet. 

 I will not become anorexic.


I will spend quality time with my loved ones. 


 I will remember the little things.


I will celebrate each day as the gift it is.

There. Easy as pie. 2012, I'm ready.
Bring it.


Sunday, December 18, 2011

Me and My Eggplant

Breakfast conversation this morning at my house:

Hubby (unsuspecting): "We're probably going to have to start looking for a new car for you pretty soon."

Me (defensively): "I don't want a new car. I like MY car."

Hubby (patiently): It won't last forever. You need something you can trust. Something a little newer."

Me (anxiously): But I need my car. It...it's my...friend."

Hubby (placating): "Ok, ok, I was just saying--maybe we should keep it in mind. But the new radiator should keep you going for a while."(author's note: hubby installed new radiator himself, lying on the frigid winter driveway over the weekend, once again proving his devotion to his ever-grateful wife)

Me (sigh of relief, panic decreasing): "Thanks, honey. I really do love my car, you know."

Hubby (sips coffee and smiles tentatively): "Yeah. So anyway, I was wondering if you wanted a new laptop for Christmas?"

Me: "What? I love my laptop! All my NaNoWrimo stickers are on it. I'll never get another pink one just like this, my headphones match it, I can still use it if I keep it plugged in all the time....it's my...my...friend!"

Hubby pretends to hear his phone ringing, goes to his 'den' to answer it. (sound of muffled laughter can be heard)

* * * * * * * *

Well. I do love my car. I realized after the conversation that a car is like a dog. Always up for a good road trip, sharing the sights along the way, having adventures, getting into trouble and out again.Also, they both tend to leave puddles in awkward places.
When you travel alone, your car becomes your companion. You sit together, quietly absorbing the awesome scenes that unfold before you.
We've had grand adventures...and faced nail-biting challenges. We've travelled through miserable, hot deserts and icy blizzard roads.  Crossed the Continental Divide, seen Old Faithful and had buffalo rub up against us (heart-stopping, let me tell you!).

The car has smelled like spilled lattes, wet dog, pots of blooming flowers, elephant seals, sagebrush, pizza and one unfortunate skunk. We've visited glorious natural wonders--from the Pacific coast to the Grand Canyon, and down to the Mexican border.


 We've gone off-road, carried a small pickup's worth of red paving blocks, stopped at every photo-op along the way and ferried visiting family to and from airports.
My granny, 99 this week, calls it "the eggplant".
My car and I have had  some scary times together. Like the heart-stopping moment when the engine stopped dead at 80 MPH in the fast lane. Somehow, in a miracle not of my own making, we made it through the other hurtling cars to the side of the road. Or when the semi ahead of us swerved to the side and suddenly, too late, I saw why--a washing machine, sitting in the middle of the lane. Yet somehow, we also dodged the death trap. Together. Me and my PT. 
We're partners. I know my car's little quirks (it hates being washed) and it knows to stop at every Starbucks along our route.

So, yes--it is hard to think of relegating my friend to a used-car lot in trade for something shinier, something empty of memory and unfamiliar.

And as for the laptop....