Possessing The Quest

Yesterday was a whale of a day for us, both acquisitionally and in an everyday timeline sense. Not in our lives had either of us bought a new vehicle or been remotely successful at pursuing one. [aside: I remember when I first moved down to Georgia I attempted to buy, of all things, a Ford Focus and despite my short one month history of reportable residence, lack of savings and a "real" job and a poor credit score due to joining and pooh-poohing on too many by-mail record clubs since I was 14, I was denied, unless I was able to get a cosigner, a parent suggested by the salesman, at which point I somehow ended up on the forsaken side of a dealership telephone with my father on the other line pretending I had the wrong number] The car we had most recently, lovingly referred to as Sexy Bird, was given to us by Laura's parents. The Dakota was acquired out of minor desperation, and a split-second decision deal to exchange the truck for my attendance at rehearsals in Lancaster for the season was struck. I had a Pontiac Grand Am, cursed thing, that I drove from around 2002-2006, that was bought and paid for by the Cobb County Board Education thank you very much. Before that, who knows.

Which brings us to yesterday.



The Nissan dealership is a cozy little establishment with genuinely friendly employees, several of whom awarded Yuula "Best Behaved Baby Ever In Our Dealership" so we are proud of her for that. We won't tell them she pooped on the sink bathroom and sneezed all over Ted Faulstick's business cards.



A couple dozen autographs, an unprompted lesson on the child fostering system, 3 hours of watching salesmen, mechanics and financiers run around like it was their first time in the big game and a ridiculously lengthy tutorial on how to work the temperature controls (to no avail), a new set of keys were placed in our hands and a warning of the sheet of ice underneath the snow accumulating during our wait... we were outta there. We acted as if we had stolen something.



So here she is...



...taken this morning in our driveway. A V6 that seats 7, 10 speaker Bose system, automatic doors & locks, five sunroofs, three zone climate control, heated seats with lumbar support, and our stroller fits beautifully in the trunk. Still kinda feels like a rental in a way. Must be how we actually took the fast food bags out when we got home last night or the way it took me 15 minutes in the parking lot of Morris Knolls HS to figure out how to defrost the front windshield. Guess I should've paid better attention during that tutorial.

Give us a little turn there...




And, long overdue, we said goodbye to Sexy Bird.



As we pulled out of the dealership I looked over my left shoulder to the salt encapsulated black clinker sitting alone in a row of empty parking spaces and I swear I think I saw a single teardrop of engine coolant trickle down out of the headlight, over the bumper and into the snow. We had good times. But all good things must be stripped for parts and crushed into a brick of steel. Onward and upwards folks.

To The Sexy, Bitter End

Really now. A flat tire?

You're making this easier on us.

The Gamut In Under An Hour

A morning story from our mountain home



I woke up this morning with all gladness. There was snow cascading to the ground, gently covering the branches and deck rails. It was a White Christmas kind of snow. That makes me happy. And Laura's snowbunny friends stopped by unexpectedly last night, off peak from Shawnee, and left me their chipotle chicken wraps for lunch today. Free lunch!



I had gone to bed worried how I would keep the baby warm the next day and, out of love, had a dream about how to fix our stove. Wouldn't you know it, I fixed it this morning. Warm house. Persistent auger. Man creates fire once again.



Laura had to go in to work so I plowed the walkway for her and warmed the car. This was to be her final dance with Sexy Bird. She was nostalgic and got out the driveway just fine.



Well apparently Sexy Bird overheard ours plans last night, to trade her in for a more recent, modish & less oily model, of which her fate was not of any concern to us and in a manner reminiscent only of renowned horror writers, she struck back.



Not a mile into Laura's commute, a skid, a bump, a spin and a thud. All parties are okay. Not a mark to be seen on either party, Laura & S.B. save an evergreen branch stuck up in her undercarriage, Sexy Bird's, not Laura's. It would be, the day before we plan to trade her in, that the car tries to kill us. Or maybe it was a repudiated suicide attempt executed from a deep seated feeling of rejection or desertion. Sensitive.



Excitement beside, Laura was able to drive home has returned to the warmth (thank the dreamy goodness) of our little mountain home.

Stroudsburg area school district: Closed. Now we know.

A Dozen Times 'Round The World

Today was an epic milestone in the life of our automotive companion, also known as Sexy Bird. Today, in the parking lot of the Bangor CVS, Sexy Bird hit the 300,000 mile mark. We had to drive around the parking lot for a minute, off the main roads, staring at the odometer so as not to miss the historic flipping of zeroes and it was worth it. We cheered. We cried. We reminisced on the finer moments we've had riding behind her silky interior. 300,000 and still kicking. Yuula is not impressed.

Sexy Bird Returns To Georgia

Well, we leave in the morning. Taking Sexy Bird for the long trip down 81 into Knoxville, and then down 75 right into the heart of Acworth and onto the Krupps. Planning to get on the road early and hopefully get in around 7 or 8. That may be wishful thinking. I just hope that the pregnant one has a good ride and doesn't get too uncomfortable. That would make for an unpleasant road trip and nobody wants that. But I have compiled my first version of what I've dubbed the A-list playlist. Over the past couple weeks I've taken the time to accumulate only the best of the best that music has to offer and gather it onto one killer mix and transfer said mix onto my iPod. From A-Camp To Zwan, at press time going 6,013 strong and spanning over 16 days worth of tunes, we could drive there and back 14 times, with no repeats. And maybe we will.

Real plans for our southern excursion include a baby shower, a dinner at an old friends new house, visiting the nieces, a river ride, at least one visit to a Waffle House, an Always Sunny marathon, maybe a tatertot casserole or two, and lots of lots of sleeping past 3am. So bags are packed, we're ready to go...

We Are Radiating

We finally got our radiator replaced. We've been living with a massive crack in it and just pumping it full of antifreeze and water and Wawa peach iced tea, whatever we could get our hands on. But this week, with Laura on vacation and Sexy Bird just sitting in the driveway, we decided to test our new mechanic, Marty, who is as advertised. He even remembered my name when I called today. Pleasant and honest, a rarity in these times. I don't know why they spray painted our battery but now we can fill our tank with fluid and after a winter without it, we can run the heat.



We've been thinking about landscape alot, and we found some trees we like. Laura liked the little flowery ones. I liked the 30 foot dead ones. Some are more feasible than others.

It was one of my trainees birthdays today so I got him the smallest cupcake imaginable. He laughed but didn't eat it. I'm not sure it was edible. I found it in the lab from this weeks seminars. Maybe it was a cupcake model. But who would need such a thing? But who would need any of the things that are created under that roof. It all seems very fruitless. Yet people get their feathers ruffled there on a daily basis. I like it. I find it entertaining.

I came home early and found my pregnant wife killing a bowl of extreme moose tracks and watching Roseanne on the couch. Caught red-handed. She had no alibi. An hour later we were eating strawberry & cream. Then two Kashi pizzas. If we had three it would've been three. Trouble.

Love The Freeze

"Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot"

*Sexy Bird

Sexy Bird is the name we gave our car, previously just referred to as the Toyota, but we really prefer Sexy Bird.

Explanation:
We arrived at that name because there was a two or three month period back earlier this year, maybe leaking into late last year, doesn't matter really, where it seemed that birds of all shapes and sizes and breeds were for some reason attacking us in our car. After maybe the 5th or 6th incident we theorized that maybe they're not after us at all but instead going after the car itself. And maybe these attacks, flybys if you will, aren't malicious in nature at all but more crimes of passion and that our car must in some way resemble that of an incredibly sexy bird. So sexy that even turkey hawks cannot resist, because, well, they didn't. That was a scary one.

In the recent months the random bird attacks have slowed down, but we're new in town and our car is no floozy.