The grass is not, in fact, always greener on the other side... The grass is greenest where it is watered.
-Robert Fulghum
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
A Fun Story. You'll Really Enjoy It.
This is Maddie's 1997 Nissan, Simba.
It was Og Belnap's car, then Spencer's car, and now Maddie's. When Spencer went on his mission, we contemplated the fate of Simba. At the time, there were 3 or 4 evidences of car-to-car or car-to-cement contact. Do we pay to fix it up? We can't sell it like this with dings and dents all over the place. Should Maddie get a nicer car to drive? After all, she IS a girl and girls should get nicer cars than boys.
After much thought, we decided to put some cash into it and fix it up so it is a-drivable and b-not super embarrassing. It needs to be a bit junky, but not overly so. It's a fine line with my car philosophy.
** I think new cars are a waste of my money. I have never bought new. I also like not having car payments. If I am driving an old suburban, let's say, maybe a white one just for discussion's sake, and I have no car payments on it and it is working fine, there is no way I am going to give that up. I don't want a newer car and a car payment. It's my little gift to myself. Now when that car starts costing a lot of money or begins to be embarrassing, I know it's time to upgrade to a newer used car-hopefully paid for with cash saved up.
**I also think teens should drive old cars. It has been my experience now with two driving teenagers that they WILL get in accidents. At least Blake teenagers will. Spencer had maybe 4 fender benders (mostly involving fences) and Maddie, my sweet responsible Maddie, has already had 3. Count them. 3! Teens don't deserve nice cars. They just don't yet. They haven't done anything to earn a nice car in my opinion. Let them drive a designated car that is good enough for milk and egg errands for mom.
Part of the reason for my philosophy is that I didn't grow up driving nice cars. I remember almost every car we owned being a volkswagen and at some point during its life, smelling very strongly of gas. That was always fun to show up places smelling like gas. But my point is, it builds character.
I am now past the driving a junky teenage car phase. I am 41 and I have 5 children. I don't want to drive Simba. Ever.
A few weekends ago, Brett was out of town. That means his car..gone at the airport. Maddie was in charge of an activity at school and needed to haul our lovesac as well as speakers there. So..suburban at the high school. It was time for Sydney to go to a birthday party. No problem. I will just take Simba this one time.
"Oh shoot!" I think as I back out of the driveway. You see, Simba at this time has a huge brake problem. You can hear Simba coming down the road a mile away in a circular-wheel-rotating kind of squeak, not just a when-you-brake kind of squeak. I have been meaning to get it to the shop but it's 20 mins. away and Brett was gone and company was here and Maddie was busy and yada yada yada. So when I start driving down my street, I verify to myself, "OK. This MUST be fixed!"
This particular house is clear up the mountain. I am driving up twists and turns, hugging a drop off, etc. "Wow, this house is waaay up here.....Oh here is the street!" Then Sydney quietly says from the back seat, "Mom, can you maybe drop me off a little bit away from the house?" OH MY. Do I ever remember feeling that way when my mom dropped me off in the green machine, our trusty forest green volkswagen hatchback. Always just wanted to walk and stretch my muscles a block or so before any 8th grade activity. My mom usually said "nope" and pulled right on up to the front door. Because I remember this so vividly, I laughed and say, "Sure Sydney. Let me just turn this final corner."
Voila. There is the house on the right. The last. house. on. a. steep. downward. hill. Did I mention that Simba is a stick shift? With a loose clutch? Now I am facing down and I can see the house. I can also see every girl at the party and their moms congregated out front looking up at what is making that loud screeching sound...aka...us. I'm sure they are wondering why I am parking a full house away, but I just smile, grab Syd's hand, walk the distance and introduce myself to the group. Very nice women. I give Syd a hug and turn to go. Now at this time, I re-realize that Simba is facing down and I will have to drive past all of them anyway in order to turn around. I live in a very nice town. I'm pretty sure that all of these women's cars were mercedes. That's just another little funny bit. ha ha all mercedes. Oh my so funny. So here we go. Squeak squeak squeak past all of them slowly maneuvering around the mercedes (how do I make that plural?) and into the driveway directly across the street. Everyone is watching me now and the conversation has stopped.
This driveway I happen to pull into is a virtual nose dive of a driveway. Are you kidding me?! I thought. I slam on the brakes, because I know that one more inch and my car (Excuse me. Maddie's car!) will never make it back out. So here I am, facing sharply downward, in a stick, with a loose clutch, needing to back up. I put on the parking brake and have to rev it loudly before attempting to reverse. Yep. It jerks and dies. Second time, I have to rev it even louder and explode backwards, then slam to a halt so as not to hit a mercedes.
By this time, every single person is completely silent and looking at me with deep concern. Everyone, that is, except Sydney. I think she is really busy studying signs of lawn dehydration or wondering if the thriving potted flowers are in acidic or normal soil. She might have been looking up at the moon and wondering if there really are signs of ancient water deposits thus pointing to other life in the universe.
I know that to roll down the window and say, "Oh hi, excuse me, but this is my daughter's 1997 car. I of course have muuuch nicer cars at home. You can get back to your conversation. Thank you. Nice to meet you all," would just make it worse, so I just smile a big ol' smile and wave goodbye as I squeeeeaaak loudly back up the hill.
Finally, I'll leave you with what the side of her car looks like (after accident no. 3). This was, of course, the side facing all of the mothers and their precious mercedes. (no offense Becky, I still love you, even though you have one too.)
I don't make this up people!
It was Og Belnap's car, then Spencer's car, and now Maddie's. When Spencer went on his mission, we contemplated the fate of Simba. At the time, there were 3 or 4 evidences of car-to-car or car-to-cement contact. Do we pay to fix it up? We can't sell it like this with dings and dents all over the place. Should Maddie get a nicer car to drive? After all, she IS a girl and girls should get nicer cars than boys.
After much thought, we decided to put some cash into it and fix it up so it is a-drivable and b-not super embarrassing. It needs to be a bit junky, but not overly so. It's a fine line with my car philosophy.
** I think new cars are a waste of my money. I have never bought new. I also like not having car payments. If I am driving an old suburban, let's say, maybe a white one just for discussion's sake, and I have no car payments on it and it is working fine, there is no way I am going to give that up. I don't want a newer car and a car payment. It's my little gift to myself. Now when that car starts costing a lot of money or begins to be embarrassing, I know it's time to upgrade to a newer used car-hopefully paid for with cash saved up.
**I also think teens should drive old cars. It has been my experience now with two driving teenagers that they WILL get in accidents. At least Blake teenagers will. Spencer had maybe 4 fender benders (mostly involving fences) and Maddie, my sweet responsible Maddie, has already had 3. Count them. 3! Teens don't deserve nice cars. They just don't yet. They haven't done anything to earn a nice car in my opinion. Let them drive a designated car that is good enough for milk and egg errands for mom.
Part of the reason for my philosophy is that I didn't grow up driving nice cars. I remember almost every car we owned being a volkswagen and at some point during its life, smelling very strongly of gas. That was always fun to show up places smelling like gas. But my point is, it builds character.
I am now past the driving a junky teenage car phase. I am 41 and I have 5 children. I don't want to drive Simba. Ever.
A few weekends ago, Brett was out of town. That means his car..gone at the airport. Maddie was in charge of an activity at school and needed to haul our lovesac as well as speakers there. So..suburban at the high school. It was time for Sydney to go to a birthday party. No problem. I will just take Simba this one time.
LET THE STORY BEGIN----
This particular house is clear up the mountain. I am driving up twists and turns, hugging a drop off, etc. "Wow, this house is waaay up here.....Oh here is the street!" Then Sydney quietly says from the back seat, "Mom, can you maybe drop me off a little bit away from the house?" OH MY. Do I ever remember feeling that way when my mom dropped me off in the green machine, our trusty forest green volkswagen hatchback. Always just wanted to walk and stretch my muscles a block or so before any 8th grade activity. My mom usually said "nope" and pulled right on up to the front door. Because I remember this so vividly, I laughed and say, "Sure Sydney. Let me just turn this final corner."
Voila. There is the house on the right. The last. house. on. a. steep. downward. hill. Did I mention that Simba is a stick shift? With a loose clutch? Now I am facing down and I can see the house. I can also see every girl at the party and their moms congregated out front looking up at what is making that loud screeching sound...aka...us. I'm sure they are wondering why I am parking a full house away, but I just smile, grab Syd's hand, walk the distance and introduce myself to the group. Very nice women. I give Syd a hug and turn to go. Now at this time, I re-realize that Simba is facing down and I will have to drive past all of them anyway in order to turn around. I live in a very nice town. I'm pretty sure that all of these women's cars were mercedes. That's just another little funny bit. ha ha all mercedes. Oh my so funny. So here we go. Squeak squeak squeak past all of them slowly maneuvering around the mercedes (how do I make that plural?) and into the driveway directly across the street. Everyone is watching me now and the conversation has stopped.
This driveway I happen to pull into is a virtual nose dive of a driveway. Are you kidding me?! I thought. I slam on the brakes, because I know that one more inch and my car (Excuse me. Maddie's car!) will never make it back out. So here I am, facing sharply downward, in a stick, with a loose clutch, needing to back up. I put on the parking brake and have to rev it loudly before attempting to reverse. Yep. It jerks and dies. Second time, I have to rev it even louder and explode backwards, then slam to a halt so as not to hit a mercedes.
By this time, every single person is completely silent and looking at me with deep concern. Everyone, that is, except Sydney. I think she is really busy studying signs of lawn dehydration or wondering if the thriving potted flowers are in acidic or normal soil. She might have been looking up at the moon and wondering if there really are signs of ancient water deposits thus pointing to other life in the universe.
I know that to roll down the window and say, "Oh hi, excuse me, but this is my daughter's 1997 car. I of course have muuuch nicer cars at home. You can get back to your conversation. Thank you. Nice to meet you all," would just make it worse, so I just smile a big ol' smile and wave goodbye as I squeeeeaaak loudly back up the hill.
Finally, I'll leave you with what the side of her car looks like (after accident no. 3). This was, of course, the side facing all of the mothers and their precious mercedes. (no offense Becky, I still love you, even though you have one too.)
I don't make this up people!
Monday, November 7, 2011
Life Is Long And So Short
Annual Girls' Trip 2011: Park City Edition
~Friendship is a single soul living in two bodies.
~A good friend knows all your best stories.
A best friend has lived them all with you.
~Friends are those rare people who ask how you are and then wait for the answer.
A really really great photo of really incredible women
and my husband, my best friend of all, was home taking care of sick girls, doing laundry, cleaning the garage, and going on walks with this little one.
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