About Me

My photo
Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Sunday, May 05, 2013


I was a Good Do-Bee yesterday. (Anybody else remember Romper Room?) Lorelai got an oil change and a new air filter. That was quick and easy. I dropped off the contents of her trunk at Salvation Army. And two pairs of clogs at the shoe repair shop. And then my day got a little more complicated.

I had not driven the pickup since the day that Beloved died. That's what the oil change sticker on the window said. Funny. I only vaguely remember taking it to the shop around that time. I do remember that Squishy was with me. Mostly I remember sitting, stunned, in my attorney's office and signing my will and related paperwork.

Anyway, the pickup quite obviously was reluctant to start. It made little kkkkkkkk noises. Not the dead-starter noise. More like the groaning of a child who does not want to get up for early morning seminary.

I called Squishy's cell. I called Mel's cell. I walked next door to the neighbors' house. He rolled the truck down the driveway and into position. I got the cables out of Lorelai's nearly empty trunk and inched her forward.

Once we got the pickup started, he counseled me to drive it for 50 miles without stopping, to reset the sensors so it would pass inspection. I drove around town for ten miles, including a second trip to Salvation Army to empty out the camper in back, then zigged and zagged my way to Farmersville, which is only about 25 miles away.

By the time I got there my bladder was full and the gas tank was nearly empty. And gas was 20 cents a gallon more than here. I had spent 15 minutes or more sitting in a line of traffic, two cars back from the officer who had us stopped, with expired tags and the new ones in an envelope on the front seat, trying to figure out how to explain to him if he pulled me over. And hoping not to run out of gas before I reached 50 miles and a gas station, in that order.

(They had the highway down to one lane through Lavon, for utility work.) Thankfully, the cops were too busy to notice my windshield.

I struck it rich at the yarn shop; 18 balls of Noro Silk Garden followed me home. They will become a Knit Swirl, just as soon as I finish the current project. Which I made a lot of progress on while sitting (twice) in the waiting area at the service station. I am calling it a Scowl: it's my basic scarf pattern with short rows to make it curve gently. When it's long enough I will put buttonholes along the second end. There is still quite a bit of yarn left. It might end up being a collar. (Scollar? Scapelet?)

Once the truck was legal, I stopped at the store and picked up four cartons of key lime yogurt, two tubs of strawberries, and a tub of blackberries. Made a parfait and put it in the fridge while I cleaned myself up.

Dinner at SemperFi's last night. Met his mom. Talked ballet and choir with his younger daughter. Ate myself silly. His mother lives in a retirement community that keeps kosher. SemperFi's family is Christian. So it had been awhile since she had enjoyed a good pork chop. SemperFi grilled. I am pleased to report that the pig did not die in vain. The parfait was well received. We ate it while watching "Bernie," a movie based on a true story and set in East Texas. Spot on. There is a murder. There is language. A whole raft of actual townspeople have bit parts, playing themselves. Including Matthew McConaughey's mother.

Came home, put the leftover parfait in the fridge, and called it a day.

In proofing this, I see that I forgot to mention the adventure which my bank caused. Tanking Lorelai with gold-plated gas? No problem. Buying the Noro? No problem. Paying for the safety inspection on the truck? Declined. Twice. Thankfully I have that second account and its debit card.

Tried again at the grocery store. Rinse and repeat. And it was after 1:00pm, so I couldn't reach customer service at the bank. The clerk at the grocery store suggested that I call the fraud hotline on the back of the card. I did. Verified that I really had spent that much money on yarn. And that it was I who had attempted the other three purchases.

Electronic benediction: the fuss is ended. Spend in peace.

(Remind me to alert the bank when I go on vacation. Because there will be a car rental. And souvenir yarn.)

1 comment:

Tola said...

always call the bank when you'll be going out-of-state and spending money for things other than gas and food. here in the East where the states are tiny and you can be in 5 or 6 states in one day, it can be a flag. also, when attending a festival of any sort where vendors from all over will be vending. think MSW or Rhinebeck.