There's been a change of plans. I've decided to pardon Peewee and take her into my home. My mom's going to drive her out here on Sunday. It might be a disaster, but I have to try. The "appointment" was today, so this is sort of last minute. But I saw it coming. I just hope she likes it here and isn't too lonely during the day. There are plenty of good window sills and plants to chew on. Oh the fun we'll have together! We can stay up all night talking in our jimmy-jams.
Having Peewee here might make me even more of a shut-in, but let's face it, I was headed down that road anyway. At least when I'm old and alone and wearing stretchy pants and pulling missing pencils out of my perm, I'll know that one of my cats will dial 911 when I have a heart attack, because I will have taught them how to love me that much. HahahaI'mnotevenjoking.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Goodbyes
As I sit here in shorts with the tiny fan blowing at my back, drinking my nightly beer and watching the basketball game and yelling at no one and everyone, exchanging text messages with Erin (not me) in New York about how much we love each other, especially after she's had a few, I realize that maybe I should eat dinner before Nightly Beer.
Memorial weekend was a range. On Saturday my mom and I had a tour of our old house on Lawson where we lived from 1985 to 1995. The new guy couldn't have been nicer if he had given us hugs when we left, especially because he gave us hugs when we left. It was strange to be there again, but the house looks nice and I'm glad. My old room felt small. Then we had lunch in town at Lily's and went to our favorite shops for one more time.
On Sunday I had lunch and coffee with my friend Kelly, in the rain. Then we had a barbeque at our house with old friends and good wine and lots of laughs.
Yesterday I said goodbye to my house and to Peewee. I took pictures of her all weekend. She was annoyed that I kept touching her and looking at her. I still can't believe it, or bear it. It helps to have a trip to Asheville to look forward to—I've booked a flight for the weekend of the 22nd. I already can't wait to see the rental house (and hopefully meet the woman who's living downstairs), see Miss Bobbie, and go hiking with my friend Amy.
She's been a good sport to put up with me all these years.
Memorial weekend was a range. On Saturday my mom and I had a tour of our old house on Lawson where we lived from 1985 to 1995. The new guy couldn't have been nicer if he had given us hugs when we left, especially because he gave us hugs when we left. It was strange to be there again, but the house looks nice and I'm glad. My old room felt small. Then we had lunch in town at Lily's and went to our favorite shops for one more time.
On Sunday I had lunch and coffee with my friend Kelly, in the rain. Then we had a barbeque at our house with old friends and good wine and lots of laughs.
Yesterday I said goodbye to my house and to Peewee. I took pictures of her all weekend. She was annoyed that I kept touching her and looking at her. I still can't believe it, or bear it. It helps to have a trip to Asheville to look forward to—I've booked a flight for the weekend of the 22nd. I already can't wait to see the rental house (and hopefully meet the woman who's living downstairs), see Miss Bobbie, and go hiking with my friend Amy.
She's been a good sport to put up with me all these years.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Phase I
I went home this weekend for Phase I of Tear Fest 2007, which might soon become Beer Fest 2007. It's a lot easier to cry into a beer. And much less sad. It's hard to say goodbye to my home, especially when this place doesn't feel like home. But as someone's favorite band, REO Speedwagon, once said, about something completely different, "You know, you know, you know you got to keep on rolling (oh yeah), keep on rolling, roll with the changes." Or, "I know it hurts to say goodbye, but it's time for me to fly." God, how old am I?
Sadly, Tear Fest has gotten even tearier (which can only mean Beer Fest will get even beerier). My mom told me they've decided to put my cat Peewee to sleep. Her mind is going, I guess. I don't really know what to say, other than I can't imagine not having her in my life. She's been by my side for sixteen years. I'll have to say goodbye to her too next weekend.
Sadly, Tear Fest has gotten even tearier (which can only mean Beer Fest will get even beerier). My mom told me they've decided to put my cat Peewee to sleep. Her mind is going, I guess. I don't really know what to say, other than I can't imagine not having her in my life. She's been by my side for sixteen years. I'll have to say goodbye to her too next weekend.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Day Trip
Uncle John flew in yesterday morning at seven to get the Capri. I picked him up from the airport and soon after we drove away I said, "Are you really my Uncle John?" It's a classic. I asked him that when he picked me up from the Y one day and I didn't recognize him but got in his car anyway. Then we went to breakfast where I told him all the secrets of the Capri, like how the air conditioning slows down the car and how the left vent only blows cold air, so I flip it toward the window in the winter, and how the last time I went through a car wash, soap came through at my feet and through the vents. It's so fun! I got teary eyed when he pulled away in the old girl. It's the end of an era. But if he fixes the soft top, I'm going to want it back.
Then I wanted to get away from the city, so I took my new car on a day trip to Starved Rock State Park, about two hours southwest of here. It's along the Illinois River near Utica, a cute one-horse town with, like, a bait shop and thirteen pubs. The park has miles of hiking trails to explore—in and above beautiful canyons and rock formations, through woods, along the river. There were a lot of stairs. I packed a great lunch in my Quill lunch bag and ate on a bench in the middle of a trail. As I was enjoying my strawberries and jalapeño havarti in peace, three little boys came up and sat down next to me. I said hello because I'm nice to kids, and one boy whispered to the others, "Don't talk to strangers."
Will he fit? Stay tuned.
Then I wanted to get away from the city, so I took my new car on a day trip to Starved Rock State Park, about two hours southwest of here. It's along the Illinois River near Utica, a cute one-horse town with, like, a bait shop and thirteen pubs. The park has miles of hiking trails to explore—in and above beautiful canyons and rock formations, through woods, along the river. There were a lot of stairs. I packed a great lunch in my Quill lunch bag and ate on a bench in the middle of a trail. As I was enjoying my strawberries and jalapeño havarti in peace, three little boys came up and sat down next to me. I said hello because I'm nice to kids, and one boy whispered to the others, "Don't talk to strangers."
.
.
.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
New Car
I bought a car yesterday—a Toyota Yaris. It sounds like an alien car. So I am now the proud owner of two small red cars. Not for long—uncle John's going to buy the Capri. My mom and I said the same thing, because we're mean: "Can you even fit in it?" I'm just happy to have someone take it, because all the salesmen laughed at me.
The Yaris is very basic and, unlike the Luxury '91 Capri, doesn't have power windows, locks, or mirrors. But it does have a plug for my iPod and a rear window wiper. It's a two-door manual like the Capri, but is a lot bigger inside, and sits a lot higher. And it doesn't feel like it's going to fall apart after every bump and leave me with only a seat and a steering wheel like in a cartoon. I'm not in love with the red, but it's what they had in my strict price range.
The day started off horribly at the pre-owned VW lot in Evanston. My mom and I had two salesmen "helping" us—a young foreign guy (YFG) and his middle-aged sidekick, Kevin. First of all, YFG would not give us a price on anything. He only said things like, "The cars I'm showing you are in your price range." He was very slippery. Then all of us—together, like a circus family—drove in a Golf to their warehouse a couple miles away to drive another Golf. Then the second Golf wouldn't start, so they had to jump-start it with the first Golf. I was like, "Uhh, have you two actually sold a car before?" When I finally got to drive the revived Golf, they made me stop for gas. By that point I was expecting them to make me pump it, too. So despite the shenanigans, I liked the car, and then we got back to the dealership and YFG was like, "Oopsies, that car is six thousand dollars more than you can afford." My mom and I left wanting to burn the place down. Instead, we drove to Dealership Row in Schaumburg, tested another used, much less expensive Golf, a Hyundai Accent, and finally the Yaris. The Toyota salesman was a young Polish guy and he said funny things like, "We'll give you a full gas of tank" and, "Would you like a Polish snack?" which of course I did.
I will miss the Capri. I have a lot of great memories of that car—like the time I was rear-ended and the time I was side-rammed and the time Robert backed into it in the driveway. But better, as a kid driving with the top down through the mountains with Miss Bobbie and Michael. I have a picture of me leaning against the Capri up north in 1993, right after my mom bought it. I framed it and hung it on my wall, and today my mom took a similar after picture. So long, Capri, you old girl—you've been good to me.
In other news, the house in Royal Oak sold in less than a week. I sort of can't believe it. It's hard to see them leave and to lose my home in Michigan. Especially that house. I'll probably drive home in two weeks, then fly home again for Memorial weekend for the last time. It's very sad. My mom says, "You have to make your own home now." I don't know how! It's just me. BUT, it will be exciting to have a second home in Black Mountain, on a mountain, and to go hiking and climb waterfalls and mingle with the hillbillies.
And now for some car pictures.
The Yaris is very basic and, unlike the Luxury '91 Capri, doesn't have power windows, locks, or mirrors. But it does have a plug for my iPod and a rear window wiper. It's a two-door manual like the Capri, but is a lot bigger inside, and sits a lot higher. And it doesn't feel like it's going to fall apart after every bump and leave me with only a seat and a steering wheel like in a cartoon. I'm not in love with the red, but it's what they had in my strict price range.
The day started off horribly at the pre-owned VW lot in Evanston. My mom and I had two salesmen "helping" us—a young foreign guy (YFG) and his middle-aged sidekick, Kevin. First of all, YFG would not give us a price on anything. He only said things like, "The cars I'm showing you are in your price range." He was very slippery. Then all of us—together, like a circus family—drove in a Golf to their warehouse a couple miles away to drive another Golf. Then the second Golf wouldn't start, so they had to jump-start it with the first Golf. I was like, "Uhh, have you two actually sold a car before?" When I finally got to drive the revived Golf, they made me stop for gas. By that point I was expecting them to make me pump it, too. So despite the shenanigans, I liked the car, and then we got back to the dealership and YFG was like, "Oopsies, that car is six thousand dollars more than you can afford." My mom and I left wanting to burn the place down. Instead, we drove to Dealership Row in Schaumburg, tested another used, much less expensive Golf, a Hyundai Accent, and finally the Yaris. The Toyota salesman was a young Polish guy and he said funny things like, "We'll give you a full gas of tank" and, "Would you like a Polish snack?" which of course I did.
I will miss the Capri. I have a lot of great memories of that car—like the time I was rear-ended and the time I was side-rammed and the time Robert backed into it in the driveway. But better, as a kid driving with the top down through the mountains with Miss Bobbie and Michael. I have a picture of me leaning against the Capri up north in 1993, right after my mom bought it. I framed it and hung it on my wall, and today my mom took a similar after picture. So long, Capri, you old girl—you've been good to me.
In other news, the house in Royal Oak sold in less than a week. I sort of can't believe it. It's hard to see them leave and to lose my home in Michigan. Especially that house. I'll probably drive home in two weeks, then fly home again for Memorial weekend for the last time. It's very sad. My mom says, "You have to make your own home now." I don't know how! It's just me. BUT, it will be exciting to have a second home in Black Mountain, on a mountain, and to go hiking and climb waterfalls and mingle with the hillbillies.
And now for some car pictures.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)