Zen and the Art of Jetta Maintenance

While I continue to wait for my seething anger to subside about suddenly-former and down-right weaselly UT football coaches, I thought I would attempt to regale you with a story. It sort of sums up how my life has been lately.

To set the scene: we had one helluva cold snap here over the holidays and into the new year. It eventually got so cold that I was too cold. And that never happens.

In addition to the cold, we also were expected to get the Blizzard of 2010 two weeks ago. Instead we received a mere dusting of snow that Wednesday night. It then drizzled rain all day Thursday and that, combined with an 8-degree night, meant that Friday all of our side streets were skating rinks.

I still thought it wouldn't be too bad since I only have four blocks or so before I get to a main road that would be clear. So I bundled up and started the Jetta and headed out. Unfortunately there was a wreck blocking my short trip to the main road and I had to turn in the other direction. The noise beneath my tires was making that scrapey, crunchy, tires-on-ice sound, but they were also spinning a bit. And, despite all the complaining I do about dear Jetta Who Will Not Be Named, there is one thing it does well and that is drive on snow and ice.

But alas it was early and my brain was foggy and since I was already in the car I kept going down a short hill and then tried to turn left. That's when I realized that the scrapey, crunchy noise wasn't tires-on-ice, it was FLAT tire-on-ice.

I then vaguely recalled the guy at the oil change place maybe telling me I might have a slow leak in my front right tire that I should maybe keep an eye on. I can't remember. I mean, really. I wasn't listening that closely to begin with and, well, it's been several weeks since then... But I stopped, got out, and wouldn't you know it, a week of below freezing weather and a slow leak in your tire equals one very, very flat tire.

I tired to turn around and drive it back to my house until the weather warmed up enough to fix it, but going back up the hill was not an option. So I parked the Jetta on the street and trudged home.

Saturday came and it warmed up above 20-degrees so I walked back down to the car intent on changing the tire myself. I had a couple of offers of help from friends and family, and/or their AAA service, but it was too frickin' cold outside to put someone through that when, had I used any common sense to begin with, I would not have been in this predicament in the first place. Plus, it had been a particularly demoralizing week at work and I really just needed to complete something - that had some degree of difficulty to it - with my own two hands and one brain and not be scrutinized or berated about it.

So, I arrived at the Jetta and proceeded to remove the cute little tire-changing kit from the trunk and my very impressive-looking full-sized spare and went to work. Lemme tell ya - it was a gigantic pain in the ass and it was SO COLD. But I was determined. I took off the crafty German-designed hubcap cover thingy (that I had to look up in the damn manual how to remove). I loosened the bolts. I got the car all jacked up and was starting to remove the bolts when an SUV stopped. Inside was a kindly-looking Good Samaritan in his mid-to-late 50's. He rolled down his window.

GS: You need some help?

Me: Thanks, but I'm okay.

GS: [laughs] I wasn't expecting that answer. Here, I'll give you a hand.

He pulls his car off to the side and gets out. Part of me is really annoyed that he just assumed I would let him take over and change the tire. The rest of me is freezing its ass off. GS kindly finishes removing the flat tire and puts on the spare. Which turns out to also be flat.

Me: Good grief.

GS: Well, I think it's enough to get you to the gas station at the end of the street.

Me: Okay. Well, thank you so much. I really appreciate your help. Have a nice day.

We shake hands and exchange names. I then drive on my slightly deflated spare to the gas station's air thingy, which is, of course, out of order. I curse, look up, and then realize that GS has followed me to the gas station.

GS: Is it out of order?

Me: Yes.

GS: Aw, man. Do you want to try the next gas station up the street?

Me: Sure.

I take off and he kindly follows behind me with his hazards on. We get to the next gas station's air thingy. Also out of order. I curse, smack my hand on the steering wheel and prepare to head down the street to the next station on what I'm sure is now a much more than a slightly-deflated spare.

GS: That one's out of order too?! Are you kidding me?!

Me: I know! Can you believe it?!

GS: I've got a buddy that works at the used tire place just up on the other side of the street if you want to go there.

Me: Okay! Thanks!

So we head up the street a short bit and turn into the tire place. GS goes inside for a moment and then emerges with a moderately scary looking dude named Mike with a cigarette dangling from his lip. He walks past me, mutters something I don't understand and then crouches down beside the car to find the leak in the spare. He finds it and goes about fixing it. I start to chat with GS again.

Me: Thank you so much - I really appreciate your help. But it's cold and I'm sure you have other things to do so please don't feel like you have to stay here.

GS: It's no problem.

Long pause.

GS: You married?

Me [to myself]: Who asks that question when they first meet someone?

Me [aloud]: No.

GS: Kids?

Me: Um. No.

Mike: It's fixed.

He then gestures gruffly to me to open the trunk. I hope it's because he wants me to get the flat tire out of it so he can fix that as well and not because he plans to knock me in the head and put me in it. But I decide to take my chances and quickly open the trunk. He pulls out the flat tire, fills it with air and then points to where I can hear air escaping from a little worn area in the side wall.

Mike: You need a new tire.

Me: How much?

Mike: Cash?

Me: Yes.

Mike: $27.50.

Me: Sounds good.

Mike leaves with my flat tire and mutters something to some other scary-looking dudes with cigarettes dangling from their lips. They look up at me, mutter back to him, and then take my tire inside.

Me [to GS]: Again - thank you. You've been very nice, but I'm fine now, I don't want to keep you.

GS: So you're not married?

Me [light bulb FINALLY goes off over my head]: Oh. Uh. No.

No-So-Good Samaritan proceeds to try and make small talk and no matter how many times I mention that he doesn't need to stay - HE WON'T LEAVE. I become annoyed. And am freezing. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone and start to text one of my gays: "Plz come get me @ tire store by CVS. BTW - try to look big & scary when u get here."

NSGS: So are you single?

Me [finally with my wits about me]: No!

NSGS: Boyfriend?

Me: Yep.

I then cringe internally because I know the next questions will be "Well, if you have a boyfriend, why wasn't he out there changing your tire?" and because I know that if I do have to resort to calling in backup I will never, ever, ever be allowed to live down this little ordeal. Having Mike knock me in the head and put me in the trunk does not sound like such a bad alternative at the moment...

NSGS: Well, Mike will be finished in a minute so I guess I'll head on.

Me [internally]: Praise Jesus.

Me: Okay. Well, thanks again. Have a good weekend.

NSGS leaves and Mike returns shortly with a new tire. Well, a new used tire. And shoves a bill at me with $27.50 scribbled on it. I hand him two twenty dollar bills and he grumbles (dude, you just asked if I had cash - not if I had exact change. Let it go!). He digs around in his pocket and comes up with change. And then hands me the tire. I realize that $27.50 only covers parts. Not installation.

So I drive back to my house on my fully-inflated spare and then spend the next 30 minutes continuing to freeze my ass off while I change the tire in my driveway. Happily. Alone.

First Post of 2010

I've been mulling different posts around in my head for a couple of weeks now, but as of yet I obviously haven't gotten down to the business of writing them. To date, the list includes:

1. The Top Five Review of all of the chaos and festivities of the holidays.

2. The list of new year's resolutions that will inevitably not be followed much past Ground Hog's Day.

3. A manifesto about the state of my job and my boss' ridiculous behavior that I'm sure would end with me stating that I should just suck it up, be thankful I have a job at all and then proceed with me continuing in the same crappy state of mind for another six months.

4. Some sort of pop culture babbling.

5. Several posts about the crazy-assed goings on with my state's football and men's basketball teams. Most notably and arguably the most crazy-assed being last night's development that - just beware - I will most certainly be ranting about in the near future. For now I will only repeat what I have been muttering to myself since about 10:30 last night: Youhavegottobekiddingmeyouunfuckingbelievablesonofabitch.

But, after a brief reality check, I decided that instead of writing about any of these things right now I am only going to post links to where money can be donated to relief efforts in Haiti.

A moment ago I channelled the effort I was exerting with my cursing into donating to Episcopal Relief and Development. For what its worth, ERD doesn't go to other countries to proselytize or baptise anyone. They provide disaster relief and support existing organizations and efforts within communities that are already doing good things with regard to clean water, sustainable agriculture, education and so on.

If you are looking for a place to donate and don't want to be churchy about it, Treehugger had a post today that listed other reputable organizations already working in Haiti who also have an environmental focus:

Architecture for Humanity: helps to design and build safe and clean living structures in developing countries that also protect the resources of the communities. They are taking donations now to help provide shelter for earthquake victims in Haiti.

The Lambi Fund of Haiti: works for economic justice and sustainable development in Haiti through community water projects, reforestation, mico-credit lending for entrepreneurs, and food security for the poor.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

There was a shuffling of meetings earlier in the week and technically I still had some vacation time left so I did the minimal amount of work things I needed to do yesterday from home and then spent the rest of the day cleaning my house.

Really cleaning my house.

Since my home renovation there's been a constant layer of dust on everything and boxes of knickknacks and furniture stacked in corners so even when I do have time to clean, it's only been the bare minimum. And by that I mean just enough so that I don't go insane and so that my closest of friends and relatives can come over without me being completely humiliated.

But yesterday I vacuumed under AND behind furniture. I emptied ALL of the trash cans and recycling bins. I dusted everywhere - not just as high as I can see.

A couple of friends were coming over for dinner and were to arrive at 6:30.

At 6:20 my whole house was clean. Pictures hung, baseboards dusted, furniture de-furred and Febreezed. Lasagna in the oven. Dogs brushed and paws cleaned. Tree lights on. Ella Fitzgerald Christmas CD playing. I had even gone through all of my flatware and pulled out enough forks, knives and spoons for everyone that matched (matched, I tell you!) AND didn't have spots on them from the dishwasher.

At 6:25 I stopped to admire how, for the first time in a long time, my house seemed like a home instead of a shanty inhabited by a hobo.

At 6:26 I decided I would go ahead and make a little cocktail to enjoy while I waited on my guests and bask in this glorious moment of being a capable, competent grown-up.

At 6:27 there was a loud crash as three, five-foot-wide shelves in the mud room collapsed in an avalanche of paint cans and tools and dog treats and light bulbs and extension cords and citronella candles and garden clogs and rain boots and beach towels, gouging several holes in the wall and ripping off part of the molding around the door with them as they fell.

At 6:28 several words were uttered that were not in the holiday spirit.

At 6:29 I made sure that neither dog was trapped under the avalanche and was thankful they weren't in the mud room when it happened.

At 6:30 The dogs I was one minute ago thankful weren't harmed, were threatened as one of them dove head first into the pile of crap to dig out a bag of Greenies and the other started to drag a power drill out through the dog door.

At 6:31 my guests arrived. A dear and wonderful gay couple, who came through the door full of Christmas cheer and with festive food and gifts. They saw my predicament and declared: "If we were more butch we'd help you put all of that back up. Let's make martinis instead!"

At 6:51 my glass was refilled for the second of what would be several times that evening and I no longer cared how clean my house was, the disaster in the mud room, that one of the dogs helped herself to some of the appetizers or that the other tried to stick his nose in someones drink, or hell, even if my flatware matched.

That lasagna was damn good though.

Adventures in Hall Decking

There's no list / Week in Review for last week. I worked. I did laundry. My Christmas shopping is mostly done. The house is somewhat decorated. It was Pink Candle Sunday on the Advent wreath this past Sunday. I don't really know the significance of Pink Candle Sunday, but that's the Sunday I like to decorate.

I had all kinds of big plans for crafty Christmasy window boxes and lights on my porch. Didn't happen. I also had plans for a real tree this year. Also didn't happen. There's a new dresser in my bedroom so my old dresser has no home right now and instead is in the place in the living room where I was going to put the tree. So I'm using the dresser like its a mantle. My advent candles are on the top and the dogs' two stockings are hanging from the top set of drawer knobs.

Last year my house was in a shambles and I thought "Next year I'm going to have a nice house for Christmas." This year I have the good fortune of having new furniture from my grandmother. The problem is that with 900 square feet, every piece of furniture has a place and if something new comes in, then something has to go out. So, there's a holding pattern of sorts going on - an end table and a corner hutch are hanging out in the dining nook in the kitchen and a dresser is loitering in the middle of the living room. Eh, maybe next year I'll have this all figured out...

So for Pink Candle Sunday I did put up my tiny fake tree and it looks kind of cute. And I do have a wreath on my front door. After lunch on Saturday I went to visit the real trees at our local neighborhood garden shop and picked up a wreath there. It's almost too big for my door, but I like it and it smells yummy.

Anyway... I'm realizing how boring this post is so I'm just going to move along to the picture portion of the program:

Giant new yummy-smelling wreath.
(Non Christmasy window box to the left.)


Tree.

Santa's Helpers "helping" in the best possible way.
Apparently all of the excitement of their stockings
being hung on the dresser with care was exhausting.

Happy Holidays!

Week in Review - Cheers

1. Isn't it "The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend"?? Oh Hell, Who Cares - Roll Tide...
Well, the Alabama Crimson Tide did indeed roll over the Gators. Thank goodness. Nothing worse than making yourself cheer for a team you don't like just to have them lose. Now they're playing for the National Championship and I will dutifully suck it up again on January 7th. Go SEC! I watched the game from my local dive bar (it has no windows or decent chairs, but several thousand dollars worth of flat screen televisions and my favorite local brew on tap). The crowd in the bar was all into the game and was decidedly for Alabama. Nashville is no longer made up solely of people who were born and raised in the state (we're very cosmopolitan now, y'all) so while a good bit of the patrons were likely orange-bleeders like myself, it's safe to assume there were fans of a good many different schools there as well. All united against a common enemy. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.


2. Perhaps I Need to Find a Meeting - or - Become a Local Business Investor
Speaking of said dive bar... I spent more hours in that one on Saturday than I should be admitting to the entire interwebiverse. Several friends very kindly helped my brother and me move the furniture we received from my grandmother to each of our homes. Afterward we treated them to fried things, beer and football at the bar. Some people could only stay for a little while and then left, then other friends showed up, then my mother and step-father dropped by, other friends left, and then more friends showed up. So yeah... basically I arrived there around 3:00 and left around 8:30. Thanks to Melissa for sticking it out with me the entire time - what a trooper!


3. Oh Yeah, That's Right - it's Advent...
Somehow I don't think the Baby Jesus had any idea he'd have to compete with football in the middle of the preparations for celebrating his birth every year. But, then again, since we can all probably admit that he wasn't actually born in December and the crazy Christians just co-opted Winter Solstice from the Pagans, maybe he would actually be down with watching a little gridiron action. Or, at least not be too terribly offended that while I turned down the lights, lit my two purple candles and quietly contemplated the season of Advent and the end of another year, I also did so while watching the Cowboys / Giants game. (It was on mute.)


4. One More Step Toward Being a Grown-up
One of the items passed down to me from Granny was a bed. A real, Big Girl Bed with a headboard AND a foot board, so that I can finally rid myself of the cheap wobbly metal frame that was left in an apartment I once rented and meant that the mattress set my dad had given me when he got a new set for his guest room (which meant I no longer had to sleep on a futon) would not have to sit directly on the floor anymore. Woo hoo. Yes, I am almost 40. Some other time we can discuss why I shouldn't be in any rush to get a flat screen television since my current model is the first one I've ever owned that didn't have dials...


5. Someone, Please, Just Club Me in the Head
I finished my year-long, torturous, tear-inducing, home renovation project like, what, five minutes ago? So, yesterday evening as I was arranging newly-acquired furniture and contemplating how I could spend the two weeks of vacation that start one week from today (yippee!) I actually thought - ACTUALLY THOUGHT - "maybe I'll sand and refinish the hardwood floors in my kitchen and take up the crappy tile in the mud room." Seriously. It may turn out to be a blessing that I have a tendency to spend too much of my available free time (and cash and brain cells) in a bar.


Seasons Greetings!

Thank God I Don't Have to Say this Very Often

The SEC Championship is tomorrow afternoon on CBS - a match-up between Florida and Alabama. Should be a great game, especially since whoever wins will play for the national championship. I've already babbled on and on about my feelings for these two teams so I won't add anything else. I will only say... as much as it pains me...

ROLL. TIDE.

And since there's no Hail Mary Haiku contest to enter, I thought I'd try my hand at it for this less-than-auspicious occassion:

Roll Tide? Ugh. Now feel

faint; must lie down with orange

compress on my head.

Happy Friday!

R. I. P.

*sniff*

I had to have my black cashmere hoodie put down over the weekend. I am still a bit sad about it. It had a long, good life (5 years), was well loved and will be missed.

As is the case with most beloved sweaters and shoes, you swear you aren't going to go out right away and get a new one... But then I found myself at Macy's a few days ago - just checking to see if the jeans I've been wanting - that are just the right color, fit so nicely and are the perfect length, but are $80 - have somehow been marked down to, say, $40. No such luck.

But there, just across the aisle from the Michael Kors section was Calvin Klein. Now, I have no reason to look for jeans in the Calvin Klein section because, as beautiful as Mr. Klein's things are, he refuses to acknowledge that women have hips. But I digress... As I woefully turned away from my not-marked-down jeans, something did catch my eye.

It was adorable. And snugly. And so needed a home.

First let me say, I've been admiring all of the super-long, chunky, cable-knit hoodies and cardigans that are so popular this season, however, being short and chunky means they don't look good on me. But there it was. A cotton, not-so-chunky, hip-length, cable-knit grey cardigan with a hood and a drawstring tie - not a big, bulky bathrobe tie that my dogs would assume was a pull toy. It was so soft, it almost felt like cashmere. And, unlike my jeans, had been marked down. Quite a bit, actually.

So, here's my new addition:


And, to honor my dearly departed black cashmere hoodie, I'm wearing the new sweater today with my beloved stripey cashmere scarf (that sort of looks like this) I got it forever ago when I still liked J Crew's clothes...

And, while we're at it...

Either from Target or Old Navy. I'm too messy to invest good money in white t-shirts. I expect this one to have mustard and/or coffee on it by the end of the day.



Trusty trouser jeans. I stalked these last year at Macy's until they were marked way down. (BTW -Tommy Hilfiger also acknowledges that women have hips - are you listening, Mr. Klein?)

Kenneth Cole Mary Janes - also on super mark-down, but from DSW. Except my straps don't buckle. They're Velcro. Because I'm eight and will have mustard on my shirt by the end of the day.

Grey herringbone trouser socks. I love fall/winter when you can wear fancy socks. I have these in tights too.

And it's raining - so I have my burberry plaid umbrella with me. (While shopping in Vegas the boys I was with patiently watched as I drooled over a pair of rain boots in the Burberry store at the Venetian. They were so pretty. But didn't even have a price tag on them, so somehow I don't think they'll ever be on super mark-down clearance...)

Anyway... farewell dear, black cashmere hoodie. I loved you so. May someone at Goodwill love you just as much.