The next step after Calvin's demise

Catching up- The depression over losing Calvin laid over me like a warm soggy blanket. My  inside thinking mechanisms were out of order. I couldn't bring myself to think of what to look for. Another cabrio? No. I was loyal and true. Besides, how could I ever hope to find another one with the special gifts mine had? How many cabrios could sprout tomatoes? self -decorate in the winter weather, with real live icicles? save orphaned plants on the run.....

What about a truck? Of course not. I'm only a truck person 2 % of the time. How could I carry my special teen triplet friends in a truck? 

Nothing felt right or good. If a vehicle had wheels on it, I found a reason to nix the consideration. I reminded myself of my children years ago when one would want juice but not 'that' juice, and then not 'that' cup, and then not 'that' much or not 'that' little bit. I wasn't upset, I was cauterized still.

My daughter found a  car rental place open on Sunday and went with me to pick a foster car. I kept thinking it is just a borrowed car. not a real car someone would keep for any length of time. It is just a ride. "You don't have to like it or get to know it, my thoughts whispered. "It is a special task service vehicle to help you in your search."

My take-action daughter talked with the guy at the desk while I think-talked myself into the deal. Something inside me  thought if I had to have some temp replacement, then the smaller the better - maybe those were more likely to disappear and maybe I could disappear too. My logic said do a, b, c. My entangled emotions said do nothing. I felt it a rude action to drive another before the first had even been buried. I thought it criminal to drive a spiffy free wheeling anything while my baby was not even rusted yet.

Daughter was patient and sounded surprisingly chipper when she handed me the key to the rental. I recognized my own voice -of -old disguised in her voice of now.  I remembered,"Hey girls, let's go see Dr. Salter. It will be fun looking at the new rooms and all." I hid the tidbit about it being time for shots. We walked around the vehicle. The rental guy gripped his clipboard so tight it started clicking and slipping out of his grip. grip slip click. grip slip click. I sensed his anxiety and thought it kind of him to try to understand how I felt but later decided he probably thought I was someone from Corporate headquarters, testing his patience, which I was doing quite well.

I  walked around again. I could not make myself get close enough to touch the handle despite my attempts at reaching for it. Daughter led me into the open door and smiled as she closed it. I sat. looked at the dash, the gizmos and gadgets. I wanted Calvin. I heard a muffled "MOM" through the window and cranked the engine. When I drove off, the rental guy was scratching and shaking his head and my daughter was patting him on the back and offering him a tic tac.

I got "the call" a couple of days later from a Dragnet insurance adjuster who was at the tow yard. She was sharp and direct and quickly let me know how much repairs would be. They outweighed the car's value (according to Kelly blue). My option of taking measures to put Calvin on life support or pulling the plug fell apart. There was no choice. I just needed to say okay and wait for the check. Kelly Blue does not take into consideration true value points.  What do books know anyway? Kelly can say what Kelly says, but I knew, knew deep in my heart, that that cabrio was priceless. It had been very good to me despite its illnesses over the years.

When I was exploring other 4 wheel possibilities to see what kind of spending numbers we were looking at, it was easy to see the list of options and yay or nay them. the problem was that not all options were listed. Manuals were cheaper than automatics. Extras like AC and Steering wheels included were more expensive in the used cars I looked at. What about the other important options?

• Carries bulbs and oversized plants well
• cooks dashboard delicacies
• loves to play loud music
• Is willing and sort of able to carry 15 or more concrete blocks without losing steering strength
• accepts stuffed garbage  bags with composted leaves or dirt and will hold them for extended lengths of time
• sprouts seeds in a timely fashion.
• holds oversized yard sale furniture without
• carries extended lengths of bamboo borrowed from vacant rental properties- in style.
• quiets screaming children with the top -down- child- safety -plan

Some said It had been chronically ill in the later months of his life. He did suffer brake indigestion issues, 5 flats in a 6 month period but he didn't smoke and he didn't drink much.  Some weeks were 10$ weeks and other were 20 it depended on his frame of mind
I prefer to say he was a special needs vehicle with lots of extraordinary character traits and gifts.

It was time to start looking for a new vehicle. Not a replacement for Calvin, mind you.
I was resistant. Friends were excited.

Calvin's demise

I've not written in a long time. I've watched my jars of collected words dwindle down to consonants and a few os and ys. Those sneaks have been escaping during this time of no writing. Had a grievious event occur unexpectedly, and ghost walked through a week or ten days feeling paralyzed with  sadness and shock. Supportive friends and daughters helped, and I had a good talk yesterday with a wise wise friend. Last night as i wasn't finding sleep, I managed to lasso the story.


It was a period Friday night. The kind of night that puts a dot at the end of the week. After work, I met my daughter at the Y and we ipoded our way through some time on the illiptical machine. I stopped by the grocery before heading home. The Teeter had a special buy- one- get -one-free Cup-a-Quiet, and I had a coupon, so... score!! I looked forward to just being home and still. My little black cabrio turned onto my street and I wondered, as I drove past the townhouses that lined the way, "How many are there? 100? more?" Built in the 40's they have withstood time pretty well.
I didn't like having to park on the street, but in the 6 years I have lived at 1040, my propensity for parallel parking has improved greatly. I lucked up and was able to park right in front of my unit by the steps. Woo hoo!! home at last...

It was one a.m., the cats and I were watching another Law and Order Marathon. A dumpster truck came by and the sound of one of those big boxes being lifted and shaken shaken shaken drowned out the show. Good grief. Those guys work some long hours. The city doesn't pay them nearly enough for this kind of late night work. Dedication, that's all there is to that, pure ded-i-cay-shun. I pondered this as I sipped on my cup of delicious quiet. A commercial interruption broke my concentration long enough for a teeeny tiny thread of reality to work its way to my consciousness. I realized that:

1. There ARE no dumpsters anywhere nearby, and
2. What the heck was going on outside?

I slid off the bed and wandered over to the window. My two cats spent many an afternoon lounging on this second floor sill. I opened the window and gazed through the trees. Down a few units, I saw an SUV sitting catty corner right in the middle of the road. A girl got out and puked. She staggered up the street screaming, "Help me, he's trying to kill me!"

I walked back to my bed and picked up my cell from the bedside table. I paused, and glanced at the TV. Another episode had started and the scene wasn't too far off from what I was witnessing outside in the street. Wow. Detectives Olivia and Elliott arrived on the set and I left them to solve the television crime while I dialed 911. I gave my address and described what I had seen. While I was talking, a man in a black leather jacket climbed out of the driver's side of the SUV and started running up the street after the screaming girl, rasping, "Where's the crack, bitch?"

I hesitated a moment and spoke into the phone, "Oh, and officer, I think there may be drugs involved." Then I hung up.

I stood in my bare feet, leaning on the sill between the cats and made a closer observation of the crime scene below me. Clearly, the SUV had hit something, but what? The car’s injured front headlights cast their lights on two empty parking spaces across the street; I saw no road kill or body parts scattered about. My side of the street had a couple of cars parked on either end of the block. Hmm.
I propped my elbows on the sill, rested my chin in my hands, and thought out loud to the cats. “Well, kitts, I think I may have been mistaken in my assumptions. I bet the dumpster noise was probably the point of impact. Ooh. Hmm. That makes sense.”

I glanced up at the night sky, "Nice night."

Glancing again over the street below I thought, "Now where did I park tonight?"
The thread took on a wiry twist and continued to weave and wriggle through my brain.The squiggle found a voice and started chanting "Something is a-wry, a-wry, a-wry."

I looked down the way to the right. No Cabrio there. hmmm.

I looked down the other way to the Left. Nope. hmmm .

I looked down the way to the steps out front. Nuthin'. hmmm.  Then, "Oh, yeah! I got lucky and found that space right by the....... steps."

I looked down again at the steps. No Cabrio. asphalt? yes. car? no.

The inside voice grew stronger. "That was a looooooooooooong noise you heard. Almost like a vehicle, that could not possibly resemble yours, being brutally struck, abducted and dragged some distance. Almost."
I cleaned my glasses with the hem of my nightie and tried looking down again. No matter how many times I looked, blinked, or stared, I could not make the cabrio appear. I heard myself croak, “Oh crap.”

The puky girl and black leather guy came running down the street. He chased her around the SUV and through the grass. She kept screaming and  he kept rasping about the damn crack, then suddenly disappeared into the night. She cried her way to the car just as the police arrived.

When the first squad car approached, its headlights bounced off of something across the street in the grass, and my eyes were pulled to it like a magnet. The light reflected off of a familiar looking piece of orange plastic. I knew that shape. It was a parking light. I loved that little light. "I think they hit the cabrio."

The cats looked at me, then each other. They meowed under their cat breaths,  "No shit, Sherlock"

I raced downstairs, pulled on my shoes, and grabbed my coat. When I opened the front door, a policeman was standing on the stoop with his hands in his pockets. He was young and reminded me of an anxious schoolboy, staring down at his shoes.

Maybe he was checking on the single middle aged woman who lives here, in case she was frightened by the noise.
Maybe he needed to use the bathroom, and he heard I lived here and that I was a very welcoming woman who loaned out her bathroom to strangers.

He stood awkwardly at the door and appeared to be struggling to find words. I decided to help him out.

"It's a black cabrio, isn't it?"

Relieved at not having to deliver this news, he exhaled about 35 pounds of dread and said, "You might want to pull some long pants on, it's cold out."
I followed his advice and grabbed a pair of sweats that were in line for laundering. They were so covered with cat hair that they were fuzzy. Ratty old nightie, fuzzy sweats, bare feet in untied athletic shoes and a quilted half coat later, I ventured out.

I walked past the offending vehicle in the road and saw my little car crunched in the dark, huddled alone, pushing against a sign that said "Pick up your dog's crap... City of This" His back tires looked like a toy car that had been stepped on by an unsuspecting adult.. both tires were flat and slanted in. They looked like they had to pee and were trying to hold it. The back driver's panel was gone, guts exposed. If I had only thought to bring a blanket….I made my way to the front.The grill was bent around the sign post.

The policeman walked over to me and shook his head. He started to speak, but I held up my hand and said, "Don't ." He moved around me and continued to draw the yellow chalk line around the lifeless Volkswagen.
While the girl was being interviewed by one cop a few others were walking around with flashlights looking for the culprit who had run off. "He's a drug dealer, he got in my car and I knew he was drunk because I was too, but I couldn't stop him, so I got in too and he got mad and we were fighting and then we hit....................................................."
…..and then they hit, at full speed, an innocent black cabrio that had settled into his perfectly parallel parked space for the night. They then dragged it several car lengths down the road and somehow pushed it across the street, over the curb and into a No-shit sign..

I walked back across the street , went inside and called my eldest. She had mentioned she was going out on the town, so I wasn’t sure she’d be interested in coming over. “Hello?” I heard noise and fun going on in the background.
“Are you having fun?” "Yep."
 I looked outside at the now, 6 or 8 policemen who were looking vigilantly for the crack and the crack head who had disappeared into the night. “Are you sober?”

“What happened?” she louded into the phone.

I spoke in my most motherly protective tone “The cabrio got hit, no one is hurt, but don’t come over here if you’re not completely sober because police are all over the place.”
“I’ll be right there.”

A little while later, she and her bf showed up and we had a lovely time of show and tell. Her friend whipped out a camera and was snapping pics as if it was a crime scene from CSI. She had it down.

We went inside and called the insurance company. Daughter kindly took the reigns and answered the questions to get the ball rolling.

I felt the need to talk to someone but everyone I knew usually used this time of night to catch some zzzzs. Then I remembered a friend I had happened upon on FB one night late like this, so I called her cell, and lo! She was awake. On that FB night, she had been sipping a cup of Drowsy tea in hopes of becoming, well, drowsy. We talked until she thought she might be getting ready to start  feeling like she might be getting a little drowsy and just hearing her say that made me yawn so we hung up.

I told her I was glad she answered! I asked her how the tea-sleep therapy was working and she said, not very well. She told me that the Drowsy tea hadn’t done a thing that FB night after all, so she tried some Double Drowsy, but that didn’t even make her yawn! She was confident in the Extremely Double Drowsy she was drinking tonight because it was concentrated and the suggested serving size was 64 ounces. She was on her third serving of Extremely Double Drowsy tea when I called. After a very short conversation I wondered how anyone could sleep very long if they had had three servings of that. I thought that maybe the Extremely Double Drowsy had been a misnomer and maybe it should be called something like Quick and Ready or maybe Tinkletime tea .


We went back outside as the tow guy was getting Calvin onto the back of a truck. He had a paperclip sticking out of his mouth and he smelled of motor oil, so I could tell he was a real professional in the auto tow world.
“This yours?” he spoke through his teeth that were gripping the clip. Looking at that made my teeth hurt. Looking at that made me want to offer him a piece of aluminum foil so all of his teeth might enjoy the metal on enamel experience, but I held back.

I shook my head and patted the cabrio’s crushed back end as it was pulled onboard the train- to -nowhere -good.

He shook his head then our eyes met. He stopped, stood up a little straighter, then respectfully said, “You’ve kept her in pretty good shape considering her age” He climbed aboard the tow truck train and took off. I wondered if someday, some well meaning friend would ever say that about me.

The kindly policeman came over. “Well, that’s about all we can do here tonight, ma’am.”

I thanked him and added, “Well, when you leave maybe you could head the way that guy ran, THHHHennnn maybe just maybe at the traffic light, a dark figure moving in the bushes will catch your eye and you can quick quick turn that way and see the drug dealer and force him up the hill right there and he’ll get tired running up that hill and will head over to the grass where he’ll slide down because it is still covered with ice and then you’ll catch him.”

My comment or suggestion caught him off guard and he hesitated. Then he replied, “ORRRRRRRRRRRR an 18 wheeler will come by as he’s crossing the street and run over him and we won’t have to deal with his ass anymore.” His words spilled out with ease and I could tell he felt better saying that. The three of us gave him a thumbs’ up and saying Thank you, we went back inside.

My daughter stood with her friend  in my living room looking at me. “Mom, I’m really proud of you.”
"How thoughtful for her to notice" I thought to myself. I thought I was handling the night very well, myself."Really, sweetie?”
“You buttoned up your coat so that no one could see that you, you know, weren’t wearing a bra.”

I looked down at myself. I saw a speed limit aged woman with wild hair, in an ancient nightie, old athletic shoes, furry pants and coat . “Yeah, I didn’t want to run anyone off.”
Both tow trucks drove off, the police continued their pursuit, and the girls went home to sleep after such a long night.I heard the morning paper hit the front door as I went up the stairs for a nap.

The rest of the car oven story...

Today we finally were able to try car cooked nachos. 

I came back from lunch and carefully "installed" the "oven". (parked in the sun).Made sure it was set to Preheat (put the top up) waited... 

After a hot bit of time and prep, cooking buddy and I left chips on a cookie sheet sunbathing on the dash, black beans jumping about in their open can in the heat, chilled cheese sauce working on letting go, softening in the warmth. The ingredients were set to go. 

A half an hour later they were not ready yet, but trying.

I was on secretary duty, so Su chefs went out and assembled, no. They created a unique construct with a warm chips foundation, black beans sprinkled about, luscious cheese sauce drizzled over, salsa on top. perfect. 15 minutes later only a few beans and crumbs left. Thank you, Cabrio. Thank you, cooks and helpers!

 We were negligent in taking pics to remember the confections by this summer. rats. Then, by happenstance,a visiting church organ builder stopped by today. Our own organist brought him into the office -they followed their noses- and he partook, then snapped a pic. "Otherwise, nobody will believe me." he crunched out the words and left the office with a bit of black bean drip on his shirt.
and I have no idea why this last paragraph wants to boldly go where the other font doesn't.

What makes summer feel like summer?

I’ve not been able to put out chronicles for a while and decided that when the syllables are ready to come, the words will skip off the keyboard just like they always do. I appreciate the requests for the chronicle blips and I hope those who enjoy the words will hang with me a little longer.

The last few weeks, I’ve been swept up in the distraction of car cooking. I used to make dashboard s’mores with preschoolers during summer camps. I drove a big ass van at the time with a big ass dash, so a cookie sheet sat very nicely on that space and the sun shared its heat without even being asked.

The preschoolers layered the grahams , chocolate,and marshmallows on board and we all walked out to put our goods in the “oven”. A while later- the marshmallows puffed up, and we sealed the deal with a graham on top. The squish of the bite was second only to bonfire s’mores. The children were intrigued, and I enjoyed watching them buy into the magic of car cooking.

This year, after the closets had been cleaned out, and my drawers were reorganized and prepped for fall;when staff vacations were in full swing, and I was the primary and sometimes only one here,well, somewhere in there I lost my focus. I began craving chocolate and marshmallows and I needed a little fun. I wanted to see if car cooking was as much fun as I remembered. Last year, I shared the idea with one of the preschools here, so that didn’t count. What would it be like to car cook for adults?

The s’mores were pretty much inhaled by those who were at work that day and a stream of youth came by to gobble up the rest. I appreciated the fact that my co workers allowed me the luxury of a little play in my day.

I knew they were humoring my whimsy….but they sure didn’t seem to mind sampling the wares, either.

We were swept into a heat wave for a while, and I used the time to the fullest with dashboard delicacies. Front seat marshmallow treats went well. Easier than making rice krispy treats at home, I’d say. A coworker- at the time a bit of a nonbeliever, came with me to check on them and as she poured the krispies and cheerios in while I stirred. ..she was sold.

My boss came in one day asking me what was on the volkswagon menu and I took that as permission to try new things. He suggested something with pretzels.

Polka dot knots were born next- pretzels with white chocolate and dark chocolate chips melted in them went over well, and those were made while I was borrowing my daughter’s Passat. Nice to know there is versatility in this cooking method. I knew my car would cook. It cooks me every time I get into it, but I didn’t know if a light colored car would work. Now I know.

Buckle-up buddies came next. I had errands to run at lunch, so I buckled up the metal mixing bowl (primary car cooking utensil)in the passenger side, put the peanut butter, butter, and chocolate chips in and off we went. I parked in the sunniest spots I could find while I was out and about and made sure to aim my front oven window right towards “Mr. Sun, sun, Mr. Golden sun (who) please (did) shine down on me.” When I got back to work, a friend helped me add the chex and another held open the gallon bag that had confectioner’s sugar in it. We loaded up the bag, sealed it and shook the heck out of it. Those went over so well, we did it again the next day.

Yesterday, Cabrio clusters made their debut. Overcast, but still hot…..hmmmm… I left the bag of butterscotch morsels in their own home bag, and placed the bag in the bowl alongside a group of Chinese noodles who were ready for the cabrio cooking challenge. When I checked later, it took only a quick snip of the bag and the melted morsels ran into the bowl and covered the Chinese noodles like lava. A passer -by held the bowl while I stirred them all together. They are but a memory now.

I decided it was time to expand the menu, so today we went right into main course fare. I brought an aluminum vegetable grilling sheet with me and placed some bread on it, then laid it on the dash of the Cabrio. A while later I flipped the slices and lined the bowl with tomatoes, nature’s seasoning, and grated cheese. Pimento cheese went on a couple of slices. In a bit, a friend came with me to check the outdoor kitchen and everything was ready. We transferred the tomato melts onto the toast and came inside. A dollop of Dukes Mayonnaise made mine perfect.

Just as I finished my dashboard delight, one of the pastors came irrrrrkkkking in. “Am I too late?” she asked, exasperated. My mouth full of the last bite, I nodded. Her body fell into a let-down-slump. Don’t you just hate to disappoint your customers?

One of the pastors was leaving and asked what was next and I told her we were making Nachos with homemade cheese sauce tomorry. She said, “I’m not here tomorry, please don’t deprive me of that delicacy.” So I won’t . The nachos will have to wait. Well, maybe we’ll take a practice run with them tomorry.

Don’t know if this is a one season pony or if we’ll try to keep at it, but the distraction of the Cabrio confections has made this hot time of year feel a little more like summer- used-to-be. Don’t we all need a little of that at times? The activity has also kept a sense of community growing. Facebook friends have been interested and supportive. Work church members and staff have participated and enjoyed the results of their labors. Aren’t those good things?

This morning I thought to myself, “Self, I think you have a knack for distracting. Finding distractions during challenging times.” Self answered. “Yep. You’ve had a few of those, and you do tend to seek out random activities that sometimes seem to balance out those moments. I’m thinking that may not be such a bad thing if it brings good energy about.”

Well, I can’t say if that self awareness is good or bad. I think it just is.

So, what makes summer –summer? I think for me, a splash of serendipity goes a long way to cool a hot day. My Cabrio is all about that. Whether leaves, dirt, furniture or fruit, my cabrio carries a tin of serendipity in the trunk . Right next to the metal cooking bowl.

Maybe I’ll create a travel car-cook kit so other folks can enjoy cooking while stranded on the side of the road, or when stuck in heavy traffic. Hmmm. Hmmmmm. Just hmmmm.

The “Things I don’t want to do” day.

I took a day off this week to take care of some things on my I don’t want to do list.

Days like that are full of dread that is built from  big doses of procrastination. Eventually, the dread becomes too much, and I succumb to the doing. Ugh.

Most of the time I take off to cook at home church or to visit children who live away and once a year, when we are really lucky, I take time off to go to the beach with the girls. Doesn’t look like this year will be one of those years, so I may take a trip to Raleigh during that week. I did that a few years ago and it wasn’t a half bad vacation.

Yes, I know I live in Raleigh, but anyplace looks a little different when you are viewing through vaca eyes, don’t you think? We'll see....

Okay. So back to the I don’t want to-

I went to the bank and had my taxes done because I had done them myself and wasn’t the least bit sure I had done them right. I was sad to find out, though, that I had. Sigh….

It will soon be time to renew my driver’s license and now there is a law that says your social security card and your driver’s license have to match up exactly. Well, the name on my social security card is off by one letter. My last name is commonly spelled wrong, I expect that. I guess the mistake didn't nag at me enough to fix it until the renewal reminder arrived. Oh, that procrastination......

s-o-n is the common spelling of the last few letters, but the correct spelling is s-e-n. I offer the reminder to friends, that since there are NO ‘sons’ at my house, (4 daughters), we spell it with “se” instead of “so”. Unfortunately, the social security administration isn't too interested in that explanation. I wonder if there is something terroristic in that.

I went to the social security office. After driving around for a while looking for a parking place, I finally found a niche for the cabrio and parked. I walked into a room full of strangers, plastic chairs and linoleum.. Not a welcoming environment, let me tell you.

I am not comfortable in closed places or cramped and crowded places either, so I was really working hard to make myself keep moving inside the building. A woman behind me on a walker pushed up against me until she finally got ticked off and just picked up the darn thing and walked around me. Then she placed it down and continued to scrabble at a snail’s pace again.

I felt something hovering over me and looked up to see the 7 ‘ tall security guard who really didn’t want to be there, either, looking at me. He lifted his eyebrows and looked into the room and I read that as ‘Get your ass in there, lady” so I did.

I followed the signs to the machine that decides when you get seen and saw  reason for being seen. I chose the option- Because it's on my don’t want to do list. The machine spit out a ticket with #326 on it. I looked around me, not feeling very comforted to know there were that many people lurking in chairs, nooks and crannies, and I looked for a place to sit. The only open seat was right by the ticket machine. When I sat down, a voice over the intercom graveled out, “Number 22 to the blue hallway. Number 22.” I looked down at my ticket again. Yep. 326. I was pretty sure I might have needed to take 2 days off instead of just this one.

Over the lonnnnnnnnnnnnnng minutes of my wait, and in between the announcements-("Number 32 window A") I bonded with the overworked ticket machine. ("Number 49 to the red hall") She must get tired of spitting out tickets all day. ...people poking at you , grabbing at your paper… The very paper you are offering in kindness to strangers in an effort to help them be seen. (“Number 62 to the green hall”) I watched this vicious scene  of people finger punching the screen over and over and I really felt for the weary ticket spitter equipment. (“Number 128 to window D”) Her screen was fingerprinted to death. Layer upon layers of prints – some I imagined were years old- lay on the graveyard monitor.

I started pretending no one was there except me and the ticket machine. People came up and asked me how to use it and I started plugging people’s info in for them.. I felt protective of the worn machine. Then, it happened. She ran out of tape. What to do? I looked up at the security guard and pointed to the machine. “She’s run out.”

He stared at me as if he expected me to magically create a new roll of ticket tape. I shrugged, held out my hands, clearly showing I had no such thing on my person. Security guard Goliath tromped across the room, squashing people in line along the way. People who didn’t speak-ah the English came up to the disabled machine and I shook my head then held up my index finger- the international sign for “wait”.

The security giant returned and fumbled with the machine and tape until he finally got it to fit and she soon started spitting out tickets again. What a life, I thought to myself.

Two days later, when  my number was called, I was pleasantly surprised by the woman at window 'A'. She said, “Oh, I have to get my license renewed, too and  I am so afraid of the sign test.” I was  relieved that someone else understood why that task was listed on my “don’t want to do list.”

She continued. "I don't know why that silly test is scary."
“I know why.” I said to her.

“You do? Well, what is it? I mean, I've driven a lot and I know the signs. It’s not like I don’t.”

“I think it’s because right now, as we sit here, a law has been passed that changes the color and shape of the stop sign and when I sit down later today and look into that binocular sign gadget, I won’t recognize it and I’ll fail the test and will never be permitted to drive ever again in the history of the world.”

She looked at me, then quickly began correcting my information.

I continued. “Or maybe there’s a sign out there that no one has ever seen or used, and some irate driver’s license employee decided to add it to the test just because they can.”

She nodded as if she understood exactly what I was saying.“Well, you’re all done!” she cheerfully spoke. “Off you go!!” and “Good luck!!” then she leaned over the desk and whispered , “Hey, if any of that really happens, will you come tell me because I don’t have to go til September.”

“Sure” I said. And I was off.

Two tasks down.

I made it to the DL office while the sun was still shining but when I wound my way through the line and finally made it to the desk the calling machine crapped out. The officer in charge looked at my letter of correction from social security and still told me that he needed proof of the spelling of my name.

Luckily, I had collected every certificate, card, paper and dust bunny  that looked as if it may be called for during these tasks. I laid out my life on the counter. “Here’s my birth certificate- there’s my maiden name”  My hand elegantly glided over the  letters, much like Vanna does on the game show.Then I laid out the next worn document –“Oh look! I got married! There's that knarly name change... and wait! BONUS!! Here’s the groom's birth certificate, too!!...Then a few photos to flavor the counter presentation.  "Here are the children 1,2,3,4. Aren’t they darlings?” He sighed and rubbed his hand over his balding head, probably trying to calculate the days until his retirement would rescue him from this insanity.  "Okay lady. Listen up. YOU are A. Got it?"

"A. You’re my first A since the calling machine broke so stand right over there and wait and I’ll call A-1 when it is your turn. Next….”

A little while later, He came over to me and said to no one in particular, “A -1” I straightened up with a start and walked to the next available desk. The woman at the desk was very kind and patient, or maybe, the woman was on valium. Either way, she said, "Look in here and tell me what you see." I looked into the evil sign machine and saw no surprises. The whole thing took 6 seconds.

I was so overjoyed that I really fought the urge to go back to social security window A and tell her the good news. It was a good fighting thought, but it passed pretty quickly.

Next, to de- mildew the convertible. Even though this winter has proven to be very precipitous, the cabrio hasn’t had one icicle all year hanging from its jowels. I only had to scrape the inside of the windows once, too. I thought the leaks were gone, but nay nay. I can’t seem to find the drain holes that were drilled in last year, so I haven't  kept the holes clear for draining and  apparently the water has overflowed  on occasion and with the warm weather, well, can you say Science experiment? I didn’t realize this until I had already gotten a couple of loads of leaf mulch and compost, so I contributed to the petri dish unknowingly. Lysol is my new best friend. The end.

I had moved a weekly saving -grace-and -life meeting to this day so that I could collapse and unload the tales of the day in a safe environment. Good plan. Good idea to get the hardest things over with and end with the good and gracious.

Icing on the cake was a ballgame that night. Company was swell- wind was bitter. Saw some exciting plays by a friend I’ve watched grow up in baseball. I love going to the games because they are just easy to watch. Rachel came with me, and while my friend’s dad and I were bitterly shivering through the game, she sat, relaxed and comfortable, commenting on how lovely the breeze was and how this feels like summer in Minnesota. She spent last summer in Minnesota and acclimated to the climate, apparently. It was nice to have her right  beside me in NC. She'll be off and gone again in about one minute's time.

Although the game was a refreshing end to a “don’t want to” day, we did have neighbors sitting next to us that added a sour taste to the event. I never got the nerve up to actually turn and look over there, but a man’s voice overshadowed the game announcer with a variety of comments that were pretty ludicrous.

 Lots of political fussing about this and that, of course, then he moved on to other topics. Something about homeowners’ associations and how unfair they are and who needs them and oh by the way, he’s been sited several times for merely leaving raw eggs and trash out an extra day, parking his big ass broken down Ford truck with two flats and bird crap all over it on the street in front of his neighbor’s yard instead of in his drive way and another time leaving a dead body on the curb instead of inside his property line or some such.

I mean really- can you believe that?

 After that, the conversation went to sushi, yes Sushi. Someone commented on liking the fresh fish at which he came back with the well known fact that none of the fish used in sushi is fresh. It is all frozen because that kills the parasites. What delectable conversation this man had to offer in the midst of “SteeeeeeRIKE!” and “SLIDE” and “RUN”. Totally lost my interest in sushi after that. I like making it, or used to. Think I’ll give it up for the rest of lent- this year and maybe the next 8..

 Anyway, he finished up with road kill stories. No, I’m not interested in seeing what or who is in his freezer at home, and I don’t know who the maniac talking man even is, but the way he carried on, well, it sort of felt a little Wake County School boardy. You know- rude, crude and nonsensical?

All in all, the day came and went, and so did the list. For now, anyway.

Cabrio- the amazing popsicle car

I have a miracle car. My 2001 black VW Cabrio has been my best friend for several moves and grooves since I've had it. The car has been a willing companion when moving children to school, or from apartment to apartment. I have filled the seats with groceries, gifts, people, cats, furniture, and most recently, plants and dirt, compost and leaf mulch.



The car has not uttered one complaint. I mean, sure, it whines for gas every now and then, but as for the water- not a peep. I clean it out fairly often, but not nearly often enough.



When the girls and I returned from our fall vaca, went to my car ( that we left home) to run some "back home" errands and found the passenger side floors were full of water.

FULL. Like- I -opened- the- door -and -a -family -of- water bugs, earthworms, and mosquitos -rafted -out -into -the street- full. The youth director at home church happened by and helped me siphon it out. I put the rugs on the line.



I got in the car and took off for the grocery for some land food. I had the distinct feeling that I had brought the ocean back with me. Silly, me. I turned a corner and felt a spray of wave lightly brush against my face. When I came to a red light, the ocean tided again into the floorboards and I immediately pulled over. I sat in a state of after-vaca- disorientation and slowly slipped my tongue out over my lips and stretched it as far right as I could, hoping to catch a drop of the wave spray that had hit me a few seconds ago. Hmm. Wet. Nasty. But fresh, not salt water. What in the world??

Although the mats dried out and the carpet dried out over a few warm fall days, the sloshing took a while longer. When at last, the water had evaporated, I drove relieved. I took Calvin the Cabrio to my mechanics and they said it was most likely the roof leaking, a common problem in convertibles and they recommended someone for me to visit with the problem. ugh. $$$$$$

I waited. I drove. The rains came and I sloshed. The itsy bitsy spider climbed up and got washed out countless times, the sun drying up the rain again and again. My eldest daughter who is savvy in many things, sent me to a self cleaning car place that had a wet vac. Thank Gosh.
Fear and cost clung to my socks. I kept putting off taking the car in to the shop.

People who rode with me grew accustomed to the sound of water lapping at their feet,just as they had gotten used to the psycho window on the passenger side that had acquired an aversion to going all the way up. My regular riders had learned the pattern for getting the window to close all the way. up halfway then up a bit, up a bit, up a bit and we're all the way there.

A friend who was aware of my earlier fall plantnapping kept asking me if the combination of dirt and damp had sprouted anything yet?

If nothing else, passengers find the ocean sound effects lulling. Good to know.

I grew accustomed to parking with two tires up on the curb to allow the water to drip out more effectively. Two loving work peers commented that they could tell what the weather was based on how the cabrio was parked.


Before Thanksgiving, my daughters surprised me by taking it in and having the handles adjusted hoping a tighter fit would stop leaks. I was so surprised by their sneaky thoughtfulness. I was speechless. My little girls were big enough to do a really adult thing for their mother. woah.
One moment,please, while I absorb yet another big clue that they are transitioning into growny friends from babes. excuse me just one more moment.....

There. Okay. So I went along happily and stayed dry for a few weeks, and then last weekend we had torrential rains and the lake filled again. sighhhhh. I had plans with a few youth friends from church and so they had to ride with their feet up. They made the best of it and created a song called waaaaaater. Every time I turned a corner they'd hug their knees in tighter and sing, "wattttter"

I drove to my new favorite hang out- the car cleaning place, and vacuumed out the floors. Driving around caused more spills, so by the time I took them home, the floors were full again. I took the car back and cleaned it inside and out at length. With armor-all at my side, we got that Cabrio looking new and spritely!!


That night, a hard freeze came to town. When I got up the next morning, every car parked on the street in front of my townhouse was frosted. Neat. First real before winter frost. Wow.
I left for work, the morning chill putting a crispness into my step. I got into the car, cranked it up, and turned on the defroster. Then I waited. I adjusted my seat, squirmed into a comfortable pose, and turned on my windshield wipers. They slid smoothly against the glass, but my window was still frosted. That just didn't make sense.

I leaned back into the cold leather of my seat and slowly brought one gloved hand up to my mouth. I bit into the glove and pulled my fingers out. Then I reached for the windshield and scratched. My nails filled with ice. The inside of my windshield was frosted hard!!
AS were all of the other windows.

Then, I threw a cold sideways glance at the floor mat. It gave me a frigid stare right back. I leaned over and touched it. I learned something.

I learned that car carpet and mats can freeze. I learned that frozen car mats crunch when pressed. I know this to be true.

I was determined to stay chipper and bright, so I reached for my window scraper and tried scraping the inside. I learned something.

I learned that I should have paid more attention to geometry when I took it in High School. Angles Angles angles. The scrapers are designed to scrape the outside curves of the window NOT the inside ones. I scratchedacross and got a line that gave me all of a clear view about .000000000000001 inch wide.

Being cold, my brain cracked. Did you hear it? If you drove by that morning, I suspect you did.
I scratched a few choice words, backwards, on my windshield, then I pulled out an overextended credit card and put it to good use. Then, I learned something else.

I learned that I wish I had paid more attention in Science class as well. As I scraped the front window, I began to see a lovely pile of shaved ice form on my dashboard. At the same time, I heard a gentle and steady drip behind me. The back window defroster was doing a fine job of melting the back window ice, and when ice melts, it becomes water and when that happens INSIDE your car it is called RAIN.

By the time I scraped a large enough space to see through, I had rolled a miniature family of snow people on the dashboard of my car. They accompanied me to work.

When I got to work, I called the car place and made an appt for the next day. The day came and went. It stayed below freezing all day with a hard wind.

I left work, and walked out to the parking lot where my popsicle car was parked. Hanging from the doors on both sides were icicles. Murderous sized icicles, I tell you. The water had been trickling out all day and freezing along the way. The icicles met the asphalt. I learned another damn thing.

Icicles, murderous sized ones at least, make a heinous crunching sound when they are forced apart from asphalt where they have been happily frozen all day. In addition, if it is cold enough for a car to drip icicles, then it is cold enough for any moisture inside the car to Re-freeze on the windows. dejavu boo hoo vu.

I drove to the front of the church just as some coworkers were leaving. They stopped dead in their tracks. I got out. One said, " What is wrong with this picture?" She looked around, scanning the street and parkinglot then returning her gaze to Calvin the frozen Cabrio.
" I don't see any icicles OR frost on anyone elses' car but yours, church chick."
"So, I guess you can see that I am Obviously the lucky one here, right?"
By this time, her kids had approached, opened the doors and were scratching pictures and words on the inside of the windows.
"Cool" said one.
" Yah" said another.
I looked at the boys and thought to myself, " Gee, I used to really like those kids."

The next morning was the same except that I wasn't a rookie anymore, and as soon as I got in, I pulled out the now-worn- overextended credit card and scratched a driving peep hole.
On the way to work, I caught a red light. I took advantage of the time and scratched the peep hole bigger, but something kept nagging at me and glanced at the car beside me, only to see a big-a__ SUV with a cowboy driver, hat tilted back, staring at me. Although I would love to have taken hold of his bandana and tied it extra tight around his lovely, glaringly red neck, i just shrugged and said, "What?" Then the light turned green. I drove off and the Cabrio and I left him in our frost.

I got the car to the shop, and a few hours later, they called with good news. "It's not the roof"
They announced that as if it was the grandest thing in the world that the roof was not leaking, and that it was perfectly A OK for water to be flowing through the car for any other reason.
Like, I could add a few goldfish and leave a happy customer. Really?

The explanation was complex, and I will probably need to explore it with another shop should the water return, but for now, the short story is that the drains were clogged underneath the doors and that a seamseal is clogging them along with pine straw and leaves, so they made the drain holes bigger and oh-by-the-way- you might want to keep a screwdriver handy so you can poke those holes open every little bit , few days or so, to keep the drains running. Get a car cover, don't park under or near trees, build a garage, have a nice day.

I asked them if they could wet vac the carpet and they said, " Well, the mats are still frozen to the carpet, so not until they thaw out. " I had a turkey thawing out at home and wondered how long it would take a mat to thaw out in a cold car. Let's see... 2 lb mat requires 3 to 4 hours if vehicle is parked in a sunny spot. This info according to the Joy of cooking...no I mean the Joy of automobile care. ugh. Eventually, they did vac it out for me at no additional charge, too. How about that?

So as I write this on the last day of this eventful year, the mats remain dry, with no stirring or sloshing in the sides. Who knows what next year will bring, but i know one thing for sure- squatting down and poking a screwdriver through near-invisible holes under the doors of a car really works the quads.









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