Another thousand dollar car has joined our stable, or should I say driveway.
Doug scouted out used cars for the past couple days, and came up with a little blue two door thing (thing meaning Chevy Cavalier, not unlike his Monza from back in the day...) which was for sale on the side of the road in Amesbury, MA. Seven hundred bucks later, it sits in our driveway.
I love America, where you can just buy used stuff on the side of the road. Well, I'm sure you can do that just about any damn ole place, but hey. It gives me another reason to say "I love America," as I am so fond of doing.
I haven't driven her/him/it yet. It doesn't have much of a personality to me but I'm sure it will develop. Doug said "If I were to name this car, I'd name it 'Smokey,'" because the previous owner didn't get a chance to clean out the ashtrays and there is a lovely film of smokescum on the interior windows... I gagged when he said that. Whatever the vehicle's identity, it is SO getting a cleaning. (no offense to smokers, but ewww. Clean your windows and ashtrays sometimes. I've been in cars that I've been so skeeved out by that I've climbed in and started washing the windows. I had no idea how my own MOM saw out her car windows one day when she loaned me her car... and the steering wheel! Feh! Sorry. That's a sidebar rant for another day).
I understand smoking in cars. For a lot of people, it is the only place they smoke. Behind the wheel. Gives them something to do.
Sometimes, that is the only place people can go to have a butt because of the fascist rules about smoking outside of buildings. I have a solution for that. An interior room with those super duper HEPA filter air freshners and ashtrays and stuff. A room to themselves, instead of banishment to the outdoors where it is -90 degrees and windy. Or even worse a complete ban on smoking on grounds/property all together. A nice room inside with state of the art smoke capture systems that is fully off of the HVAC system of the building. No more butts on the sidewalk, no more blocked doorways, no more freezing to death poor addicts out in front trying to catch a quick fix.
But smoking in the car means ... cleaning the smokescum once in a while. 409 and some paper towel, homie. Get to it.
I know I'm going to get hate mail from smokers who clean their cars. Don't get me wrong. I don't hate smokers or people who smoke in cars. I just think they need to remove the brown nicotine amber from the glass once in a while.
I also know people who are going to email me and say "EWWWWW! I've seen YOUR fucking cars and you have empty bags from burger king on the floor in the back and like french fries embedded in the console and ... you're fat and ugly so shut up!"
Guilty as charged.
We don't pick up the trash in the vehicles often enough. Many times, there are no passengers in the front seat, just kids in the back, so the front foot well becomes the black hole for any objects not needed. I'm starting to get anal about that, especially with the new truck. I almost dropped a brick when I went out to it today and there were a gazillion and five empty snack-sized potato chip bags all over the back seat (friggin' Geoffrey!!!) I am SO cleaning Quimby before I go to the college tomorrow for MF's last class (yippeeeee!).
So I'll make a deal -- I'll keep my vehicle spotless if you clean your ashtray out. Okay?
And by the way THANK YOU for USING the ashtray instead of throwing your butt out the window. God bless you. There is nothing I hate more than seeing butts fly out of car windows. What do you think they are going to do, disintegrate and become part of nature again? No. They last for centuries. And there are billions and billions of them all up and down my street, in my creek, in my yard. So if you are a window-chucker, please repent and sin no more. Use that ashtray. Or be like my sister and use a water bottle and then throw them out in the trash. But stop thinking the world is just a place for you to chuckabutt already.
Jebus, now where was I? Oh yeah -- journal entry.
There had been an unbelievably super kind offer to sell me a gorgeous fancy assed kick-ass Volvo for 4 or 5k less than what they are selling it for. Unfortunately for us, we barely had the 700 clams out of pocket to buy what we got so there would have been no way for me to pay for the freshy fresh super car.
So I would like to take a moment here and personally, publicly thank the person who extended that offer. You are a goddess. You are the sweetest. You have been so kind to me and my family for aeons... and I adore you. Thank you for worrying about us. Thank you for caring. Thank you so much for offering a car that I would have burst my buttons with joy over... You are the best.
Yesterday afternoon I had a meeting with a woman from our local historical society. She is having me work up a ton of documents that she wants to turn into a website to market to realtors, welcoming people to our town and teaching them about the local history. She and her husband are rather ancient, and he wears a hearing aid that whistles all the time so talking to him is sometimes a challenge. She's a very smart, very educated woman who has a ton of history in her head and wants to get it all out on paper before "it's too late," as she put it.
Now there's a woman with a plan.
I'm glad to help. We are researching grants that will pay for the hosting and development of the website, and printing of fliers to give out for free to realtors. I reconnected with an old friend who is the grants director at the college where I used to work, and he is hunting down some leads for me. Nice to have connections.
In other news, my mom told me that one of my cousins and his family are moving up here by us, very close to us.
They are living in Southern California right now, and he scored a new job in the Merrimack Valley.
They are looking to live betwen five to 10 miles from me ... trying to decide if a shack by the ocean or a mansion slightly inland is the way to go. So it is kind of exciting to know that he's coming up here and will be so close, but at the same time it is kind of weird. For the longest time I've been the farthest north of the cousins. It has kept me kind of geographically separated from the rest of the pack, not that we were super close anyway. I don't discuss a lot about family here because family read this journal and I really don't want to say something that will irritate anyone or hurt someone.
If he is up here, I have a chance hopefully to get to know him and his wife better. I like her a lot, and would love to show her and their daughter all the cool things this area has to offer.
I am kind of getting my hopes up that there will be a nice relationship, that I'll see my other cousins more often. I really like them and have such a good time with them when I see them.
But then reality kind of sinks in. I've never had a party here, and never have invited my extended family over. When I see them it's graduations, weddings, funerals etc...
I'm sure they come to the north shore and Merrimack Valley often, for different reasons, but never think to themselves "Hey, let's call Chrissie and Doug and see how they are!"
We don't have that kind of relationship, but I've always wanted something like that.
I somehow feel, deep in my heart of hearts, that I'll never hear from him once he's up here, even though his commute will take him right past our house. There won't be that nice relationship with his wife that I'd like to foster, and the five or ten miles that lie between us will be just as big as the current 3000.
So I'm not getting all giddy and hopeful. And then I feel guilty for not having more faith in the future and family.
Mojo Request
Alright -- here's a request for some prayer, or if you aren't a prayer type of person, a request for mojo.
My buddy Chad, the dad of twins "Slash" and "the Bus" recently told me that he is looking to move the family back up here. For the life of us, we couldn't figure out why they would WANT to move back up here, but he emailed me and told me he'd applied for a job at a fisheries company in Gloucester, MA. He is a marine biology kinda guy, and wants desperately to work in his field...
So he wants this job.
Desperately.
If he doesn't get it, it's all good -- they have a place to live and jobs where they are... but. You know what I'm saying. A dream job in one's field (you know I am looking for the same thing).
So I'm asking you, my brothers and sistahs... to pray/mojo-ize for Chad to get the job. And to get his fancy Steeler lovin' butt and his wife and babies back up here to the frozen tundra.
Word.
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