As usual on my way home from work, I called my mom to check in. We discussed current events about the day and finished up with plans for the evening. I had a few new purchases to return and thought tonight would be a good time to get that accomplished. I also wanted to do something that required no thinking and/or someone calling out Ms. Gaddis while tapping on my arm (just a few of the joys of being a 1st grade teacher). As we are ending up the phone conversation, my mom throws in a very interesting tid bit of information.
There are a few things you should know before I continue. The first is that my dad NEVER does anything half way. If he decides that he wants to get a bird feeder, he buys 5 of the most expensive ones, rushes home to fill them with 50 pounds of seed, and will even build metal stands to hang them from. Notice that he can't just have one. He needs many. My dad has more hobbies than anyone I have ever known. He is never bored because he is always experiencing something new. What I am telling you is that my dad has done it all. He has an expired pilot's license. He has developed his own photography. He can make pens and other fun things from wood. He has more tools than Lowe's, Sears, and Home Depot all put together. With these tools, he has fixed many things. (He likes to tell us every time he uses a tool that it "sure is a good thing I have this useless tool" wink, wink.) The only problem is that he often has more than one of each thing. I can't tell you how many chainsaws that he owns, but never fear if there is a need to clear a forest because he alone has enough equipment. With all of this being said, my dad always has the best on the market, but also EVERYTHING that might go with it. (This drives my mother crazy. However, she is his number one enabler. If he wants it, she will do her best to make sure he gets it. He has an amazing ability to convince her that he "needs" this stuff and she falls for it every time.)
The second thing that you should know is that my dad is a wonderful teacher. When he discovers something new, he loves to share that information. I can't tell you the number of people he has taught how to do some hobby or another. (His latest interest is wood working. He creates pens, ornaments, trinkets, and other things.) So with all of his interests, he tends to spend more time teaching others how to do it than doing it himself.
The third thing you should know is that my friend, Melisa, married a man that enjoys hobbies almost as much as my dad. He tends to get really involved in something and after a little while moves on to something else. My dad began showing Ryan how to make pens (Ryan has learned how to make many more things since then) and now they have a booth in Gainesville this weekend to sell their wares. From the outside looking in, it appears that if my dad will be interested in it, then Ryan may very well follow suit before too long because wood working is not their only point of interest. Now back to the conversation with my mom.
As I am getting ready to hang up, she mentions that my dad has done something outrageous (in her opinion). I ask what and she says that he has ordered bees. (My dad has said for my entire life that he would like to have several bee hives. It appears that he has just now decided to fulfill that fantasy.) My mom discovered that he ordered three sets of bees to put into three different colonies. (This is also an appropriate time to mention that my dad has NO hives. He has said that he will be building them. He does nothing if it is not perfect so the bee hive making could take quite a long time. He only has until the spring before the bees arrive.) My mom wonders aloud why he chose to order 3 and not just start with one. As I mentioned before, he does nothing half way. If one bee hive is good, then 3 will be amazing.
My mom is relaying this information to me and is getting madder by the minute. She is frustrated that it will not just be a little bee endeavor, but a big bee event. My parents have always worked as a team and my dad made this play without consulting with her. One of the first things that she asked him was why didn't he discuss this with her before beginning this process. She figures that she might have talked him into starting small and then going big. At this point, I am already imagining him in full bee attire and she says, "He doesn't even have the clothing. He is going to have to buy all those bee clothes now, too!"
I decide to intercede to give my dad a little help in simmering my mom's anger (this is not always a good choice because I am a lot like my dad and that can sometimes have her angry at both of us when I am just trying to help). I finally stop her ranting and say, "Mom, there is one consolation in all of this." She responds with, "WHAT?" I tell her not to worry, that before long Ryan will be growing bees, too! We both died laughing and then I decided to call my dad and let him in on our conversation.
I have all of us on 3 way and start asking my dad about the bee adventure we are about to embark upon while my mom remains silent in the background. He begins filling me on all the details and when my questions become very pointed, he just says that he can't explain it, but will just have to show me. He also mentions that the honey bee is becoming extinct and that if we aren't careful we could loose a major source to growing food. (Apparently, you can't garden without honey bees.) That is when I tell my mom that she must stop being mad. Dad is being completely selfless in growing honey bees. He is doing it for all mankind. She says something along the lines of "yeah right." She also brings up the point once again that 1 or even 2 would have been enough. I ask my dad about the bee apparel and he says that he is going to have a bee keeper (friend of his) come and "rob" the hive the first time to show him how to do it. He says the only thing that he will need is a "bee" hat. (My mom says under her breath that it will probably cost $400.) I told her not to worry about the hat. We can go to Wal-mart and buy one of those lingerie laundry bags and use a baseball cap to make my dad a "bee" hat. (By the way, the cost of each colony of bees is about $75. That is very reasonable in my opinion.)
I also pointed out to mom something that she has not even considered. In one year, we will be bottling honey and before long we will all have honey money coming our way. I imagine that she was rolling her eyes, but it was too funny to resist. I will admit to being very excited about this bee adventure. Call me next fall if you are interested in purchasing organic, fresh honey. I know where you can get some.
:o)
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Waxing
It's time for me to get my eyebrows waxed again. For many women, this chore is not too major, but for me it is something that I dread from the time I leave getting waxed until I return. Why you ask? It's because I am literally getting my face peeled off. I realize that it hurts no matter who you are, but for me the pain is much more. (That will always be the case if you are wondering because this is all about ME!)
I leave my house with my mission in mind. My heart is pounding and I am developing a slight sheen of sweat on my forehead. I drive 5-6 minutes down the road and pull into the parking lot. My stomach starts feeling as if frogs are inside. My face turns red as I open the door and quietly pronounce that I am here for an eyebrow wax. I take the dreaded steps through the door that has a beaded entry to "ensure" privacy and I lay down on the champagne colored surgical (or not) bed. The lady who will be performing my procedure begins with small talk, but I have already begun with the wringing of my hands and I'm having a difficult time following her accent anyway. So, I just smile and nod my head when appropriate. She shoves my bangs into a teeth/claw like headband (my hair never looks pretty when I leave) and she dips the popsicle stick into the hot wax and blows to cool it down.
I am squeezing my hands together as tightly as possible and my eyes are closed. I try to think about 10 minutes from now when I feel her touch my face and apply the wax. She takes a thin strip of cloth and places it over the warm wax and then rubs it (the rubbing is not soothing at all). After about 5 seconds, she then holds my brow taught and rips the cloth that is glued to my face away. This continues over both brows and 10 minutes pass and then she takes out the terrible tweezers ...
The tweezers are used to thin out the areas in, around, and between the eyebrows. I'm still wringing my hands together because I know it isn't over yet. She takes the tweezers and begins pulling over and over and over at small hairs that are still in place. She stops and suddenly I feel relieved. I open my eyes and realize that she isn't finished, she is just comparing one side of my face to the other. She leans over me again and is back for more. Finally it is over, she hands me a mirror to take a look. (I always say it looks great because I have no energy to remain in the chair.) The masochistic lady then takes some kind of oil and does her best to remove any remnants of wax. After nearly rubbing my face off with the oil drenched cotton ball, she fills another cotton ball with aloe and smooths it over my eyebrows. It isn't soothing, it is cold and that in my opinion is the only advantage. The headband is jerked from my hair and my bangs fall into the remaining aloe. Now my hair looks greasy and unwashed. Great!
I somehow manage to sit up, put one foot in front of the other, and walk to the counter to pay. As I pull out my card, I realize that I have just spent the last 20 minutes in agony and now I am going to pay for it with a smile on my face. Have I mentioned yet what I look like? Well, this is the fascinating part. Besides having greasy parts to my hair, my entire upper face is blood red. All the way from the inside of my eyebrows to my hairline. I look as if I have been in a fight and I didn't win. The really bad part is that I will remain this way for the next 5-6 hours. So when I get a wax, I must be able to either wear my sunglasses or return home to hide out as a recluse.
I once asked someone who was waxing my eyebrows why it hurt me so bad and she said because my eyebrow hairs were "deep" in my skin. That in my opinion is a good reason to leave them there. It is not unusual for me bleed and also have the skin removed during this process. Several days after a waxing, my eyebrows will still be tender and dry due to the skin being removed. So if you happen to see me wondering around with bushy eyebrows, don't judge. It's because I have yet to work up the nerve to have my eyebrows waxed. It is really worse than having an operation because at least during an operation you can sleep.
:o)
I leave my house with my mission in mind. My heart is pounding and I am developing a slight sheen of sweat on my forehead. I drive 5-6 minutes down the road and pull into the parking lot. My stomach starts feeling as if frogs are inside. My face turns red as I open the door and quietly pronounce that I am here for an eyebrow wax. I take the dreaded steps through the door that has a beaded entry to "ensure" privacy and I lay down on the champagne colored surgical (or not) bed. The lady who will be performing my procedure begins with small talk, but I have already begun with the wringing of my hands and I'm having a difficult time following her accent anyway. So, I just smile and nod my head when appropriate. She shoves my bangs into a teeth/claw like headband (my hair never looks pretty when I leave) and she dips the popsicle stick into the hot wax and blows to cool it down.
I am squeezing my hands together as tightly as possible and my eyes are closed. I try to think about 10 minutes from now when I feel her touch my face and apply the wax. She takes a thin strip of cloth and places it over the warm wax and then rubs it (the rubbing is not soothing at all). After about 5 seconds, she then holds my brow taught and rips the cloth that is glued to my face away. This continues over both brows and 10 minutes pass and then she takes out the terrible tweezers ...
The tweezers are used to thin out the areas in, around, and between the eyebrows. I'm still wringing my hands together because I know it isn't over yet. She takes the tweezers and begins pulling over and over and over at small hairs that are still in place. She stops and suddenly I feel relieved. I open my eyes and realize that she isn't finished, she is just comparing one side of my face to the other. She leans over me again and is back for more. Finally it is over, she hands me a mirror to take a look. (I always say it looks great because I have no energy to remain in the chair.) The masochistic lady then takes some kind of oil and does her best to remove any remnants of wax. After nearly rubbing my face off with the oil drenched cotton ball, she fills another cotton ball with aloe and smooths it over my eyebrows. It isn't soothing, it is cold and that in my opinion is the only advantage. The headband is jerked from my hair and my bangs fall into the remaining aloe. Now my hair looks greasy and unwashed. Great!
I somehow manage to sit up, put one foot in front of the other, and walk to the counter to pay. As I pull out my card, I realize that I have just spent the last 20 minutes in agony and now I am going to pay for it with a smile on my face. Have I mentioned yet what I look like? Well, this is the fascinating part. Besides having greasy parts to my hair, my entire upper face is blood red. All the way from the inside of my eyebrows to my hairline. I look as if I have been in a fight and I didn't win. The really bad part is that I will remain this way for the next 5-6 hours. So when I get a wax, I must be able to either wear my sunglasses or return home to hide out as a recluse.
I once asked someone who was waxing my eyebrows why it hurt me so bad and she said because my eyebrow hairs were "deep" in my skin. That in my opinion is a good reason to leave them there. It is not unusual for me bleed and also have the skin removed during this process. Several days after a waxing, my eyebrows will still be tender and dry due to the skin being removed. So if you happen to see me wondering around with bushy eyebrows, don't judge. It's because I have yet to work up the nerve to have my eyebrows waxed. It is really worse than having an operation because at least during an operation you can sleep.
:o)
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Diabetes and I
Here in the south many people refer to diabetes as "sugar." In fact, that is the first thing that a friend said to me after I finished all 4 of my cokes and then moved on to her sweet tea. I had a great-aunt on one side of the family with diabetes, a great-uncle on the other side, and one second cousin that was also struggling with it at the time. I went home that evening and went to bed around midnight. I awoke every hour from midnight until 6:00 a.m. to get more to drink and use the restroom. The next day I was seeing a doctor and within one week was administering 2 shots a day. I was 18 years old and a freshman in college. The diagnosis of diabetes completely changed my life and most of them are not good.
I don't walk around spouting that I am diabetic because that is just embarrassing. I tell people if I am asked and those that are frequently around me know (I sometimes need assistance). I have quite a collection of crazy antics, funny, and horrific stories to tell about my experiences with diabetes, but most of them involve me being stupid. In the interest of not making a complete idiot of myself, I will share only a few.
My nephew was around 7 (he just turned 15) years old. I spent the day with him and my sister-in-law at Gold Rush. I came back to their house and fell asleep on the couch. At some point, my brother recognized that something was wrong and phoned my parents. They advised him to feed me honey (it goes quickly into the blood stream) and follow that up with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. During this fiasco, I managed to "hit" my brother with my nephew as the main witness. The only thing I remember from that experience is waking up while my nephew is sitting beside me with the sandwich in hand feeding it to me. To this day, my nephew will still ask when my blood sugar is low if I am going to hit anyone. He thinks its funny now, but at the time I must have scared them all to death.
I have also woken up several times in the hospital not knowing how I got there. I have woken up with my parents sitting in my living room watching t.v. and me having no memory of anything being wrong. I tell you these stories because being diabetic really stinks most of the time. The only times that I have even heard it to be a good thing is when visiting Disney World. Apparently, they let you go to the front of the lines.
Having diabetes comes with having the craziest questions asked of me. Here are some of the dumber ones.
1. Does it hurt to give yourself a shot? Of course, it hurts. A needle going into your body NEVER feels good.
2. Does it hurt to check your blood sugar or do you get used to it? Of course, it hurts. A needle going into you finger NEVER feels good.
3. Do you ever get to eat sugar? It isn't so much sugar, but carbohydrates that I have to worry with. I eat both, but in moderation. (I sometimes eat them in excess because it is difficult not to.)
4. What makes you do crazy things when your blood sugar is low? My brain is attending to the most important functions. The craziness comes because my inhibitions are gone. It is very similar to someone who is drunk. I sometimes laugh and other times weep terribly. I will sometimes get really quiet and sometimes talk a person's ear off. I sometimes get really sleepy and other times be unable to fall asleep.
5. Have you ever watched the movie Steal Magnolia? Yes, yes I have. Thanks for bringing up a woman who dies after having a too short life/marriage and a baby that she adores.
I realize that living with diabetes is not as bad has having many other diseases. I live my life to the fullest and try not to let it stand in my way, but there is never anything that goes into my body that I don't consider what it will do to my blood sugar. I don't put in a piece of gum, candy, any drink, dessert, vegetables, or meat without the thought going through my mind that my blood sugar will be effected. So let me tell you, diabetes is not for the faint of heart.
I know that unless the Lord comes back first, I could very well pass away from complications due to diabetes. (Don't say I could die in a car crash because then you are just preaching to the choir. I realize that I could die of many things, but if I live a "normal" life diabetes will always play a key role.) I worry that my kidneys will not always work. When I get sick, my first thought is to check my blood sugar. I never take any medicine without reading the description and warnings that come with it. I have fears about having children AND seeing them grow up. I am also concerned that my life is not what it could have been before my diagnosis or maybe I am better because of it. Either way, the Lord has blessed me through diabetes. He continually protects me from danger and "warns" me when something is wrong. I once feared that I could never live alone and yet I have done so for 9 years. I don't understand His love for me, but if He is making a recording to show of funny stunts that we as humans do, I am certain that I will have a few. Too bad, I can't blame them all on diabetes!
:o)
I don't walk around spouting that I am diabetic because that is just embarrassing. I tell people if I am asked and those that are frequently around me know (I sometimes need assistance). I have quite a collection of crazy antics, funny, and horrific stories to tell about my experiences with diabetes, but most of them involve me being stupid. In the interest of not making a complete idiot of myself, I will share only a few.
My nephew was around 7 (he just turned 15) years old. I spent the day with him and my sister-in-law at Gold Rush. I came back to their house and fell asleep on the couch. At some point, my brother recognized that something was wrong and phoned my parents. They advised him to feed me honey (it goes quickly into the blood stream) and follow that up with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. During this fiasco, I managed to "hit" my brother with my nephew as the main witness. The only thing I remember from that experience is waking up while my nephew is sitting beside me with the sandwich in hand feeding it to me. To this day, my nephew will still ask when my blood sugar is low if I am going to hit anyone. He thinks its funny now, but at the time I must have scared them all to death.
I have also woken up several times in the hospital not knowing how I got there. I have woken up with my parents sitting in my living room watching t.v. and me having no memory of anything being wrong. I tell you these stories because being diabetic really stinks most of the time. The only times that I have even heard it to be a good thing is when visiting Disney World. Apparently, they let you go to the front of the lines.
Having diabetes comes with having the craziest questions asked of me. Here are some of the dumber ones.
1. Does it hurt to give yourself a shot? Of course, it hurts. A needle going into your body NEVER feels good.
2. Does it hurt to check your blood sugar or do you get used to it? Of course, it hurts. A needle going into you finger NEVER feels good.
3. Do you ever get to eat sugar? It isn't so much sugar, but carbohydrates that I have to worry with. I eat both, but in moderation. (I sometimes eat them in excess because it is difficult not to.)
4. What makes you do crazy things when your blood sugar is low? My brain is attending to the most important functions. The craziness comes because my inhibitions are gone. It is very similar to someone who is drunk. I sometimes laugh and other times weep terribly. I will sometimes get really quiet and sometimes talk a person's ear off. I sometimes get really sleepy and other times be unable to fall asleep.
5. Have you ever watched the movie Steal Magnolia? Yes, yes I have. Thanks for bringing up a woman who dies after having a too short life/marriage and a baby that she adores.
I realize that living with diabetes is not as bad has having many other diseases. I live my life to the fullest and try not to let it stand in my way, but there is never anything that goes into my body that I don't consider what it will do to my blood sugar. I don't put in a piece of gum, candy, any drink, dessert, vegetables, or meat without the thought going through my mind that my blood sugar will be effected. So let me tell you, diabetes is not for the faint of heart.
I know that unless the Lord comes back first, I could very well pass away from complications due to diabetes. (Don't say I could die in a car crash because then you are just preaching to the choir. I realize that I could die of many things, but if I live a "normal" life diabetes will always play a key role.) I worry that my kidneys will not always work. When I get sick, my first thought is to check my blood sugar. I never take any medicine without reading the description and warnings that come with it. I have fears about having children AND seeing them grow up. I am also concerned that my life is not what it could have been before my diagnosis or maybe I am better because of it. Either way, the Lord has blessed me through diabetes. He continually protects me from danger and "warns" me when something is wrong. I once feared that I could never live alone and yet I have done so for 9 years. I don't understand His love for me, but if He is making a recording to show of funny stunts that we as humans do, I am certain that I will have a few. Too bad, I can't blame them all on diabetes!
:o)
Thursday, September 2, 2010
He's Dangerous!
I called my mom on my way home tonight after having dinner with a friend. I usually talk to my dad every morning on my way to work and then talk to my mom every evening. This one was no different. She was filling me in on how her day was and asking me questions about my day. Then I remembered that I hadn't told her OR my dad about this blog. I tell her that I have started it and then have to define what a blog is. I tell her to turn on the computer and I will be right over to show them.
I walk through the door and go into the living room. She is watching t.v. and acts surprised that I am there. I then ask if she has turned on the computer. She responds with a little too harsh, "yes!" and I then realize that she has turned on the "old" computer instead of the newer, sleeker lap top. (The one that has wireless capability and will let me sit in the living room with her while I read my blog aloud.) I get the correct computer turned on, head back into the living room, and wait for my dad to enter. I finish up the conversation with my mom about life and then tell my dad about the blog. I have to define it for him also and then I get started reading it. (I am doing this because neither of them really know what they are doing online. If it involves much more than the on button, I usually have to assist. However, it is funny that they manage to sometimes order "stuff" without my help.)
I'm reading my first post to them and neither are really responding. When I get to the part about Bill, my dad interrupts me and asks if I have put his entire name on there? He then asks how much personal information I have listed. Then he wants to know if I know that now people can go online and find out exactly where you are! He tells me to be careful because people are crazy. (He doesn't realize that by just typing in his name I can find out his phone number and address.) Basically, my dad knows just enough information about the Internet to be dangerous. He can get online and order tools. (He has no idea how to determine if a site is secure.) He can check his email when I am there. He can respond to emails as long as I do all the typing and I hit "send." How is it that he knows that people can now locate where you are exactly? (This is a new feature of facebook. One that I am not using.) The answer is because he has gotten these facts off the news. (We all know that the news is a "safe" and "reliable" source.) The Internet is "dangerous" and I really have to be careful about what I tell people. I mentioned that I have my name, phone number, address, and social security number listed, but that is all. He did not find any of those comments funny. He also never noticed that I called Bill "Princess," he was just concerned that I used both his first and last name. Not recognizing that "Bill" is a nickname.
My mom is just sitting there listening and not responding because she realizes that she is no threat to anyone. She can't even turn on the right computer. So in her mind, she is safe as long as when she makes online purchases, she can call me and I can track the history and find the people and the phone number to the company and I can call to take care of the bill for her.
:o)
I walk through the door and go into the living room. She is watching t.v. and acts surprised that I am there. I then ask if she has turned on the computer. She responds with a little too harsh, "yes!" and I then realize that she has turned on the "old" computer instead of the newer, sleeker lap top. (The one that has wireless capability and will let me sit in the living room with her while I read my blog aloud.) I get the correct computer turned on, head back into the living room, and wait for my dad to enter. I finish up the conversation with my mom about life and then tell my dad about the blog. I have to define it for him also and then I get started reading it. (I am doing this because neither of them really know what they are doing online. If it involves much more than the on button, I usually have to assist. However, it is funny that they manage to sometimes order "stuff" without my help.)
I'm reading my first post to them and neither are really responding. When I get to the part about Bill, my dad interrupts me and asks if I have put his entire name on there? He then asks how much personal information I have listed. Then he wants to know if I know that now people can go online and find out exactly where you are! He tells me to be careful because people are crazy. (He doesn't realize that by just typing in his name I can find out his phone number and address.) Basically, my dad knows just enough information about the Internet to be dangerous. He can get online and order tools. (He has no idea how to determine if a site is secure.) He can check his email when I am there. He can respond to emails as long as I do all the typing and I hit "send." How is it that he knows that people can now locate where you are exactly? (This is a new feature of facebook. One that I am not using.) The answer is because he has gotten these facts off the news. (We all know that the news is a "safe" and "reliable" source.) The Internet is "dangerous" and I really have to be careful about what I tell people. I mentioned that I have my name, phone number, address, and social security number listed, but that is all. He did not find any of those comments funny. He also never noticed that I called Bill "Princess," he was just concerned that I used both his first and last name. Not recognizing that "Bill" is a nickname.
My mom is just sitting there listening and not responding because she realizes that she is no threat to anyone. She can't even turn on the right computer. So in her mind, she is safe as long as when she makes online purchases, she can call me and I can track the history and find the people and the phone number to the company and I can call to take care of the bill for her.
:o)
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
I'm in a relationship
I'm not really in a "relationship" with anyone (except Jesus), but I couldn't think of another title for this post. I will tell you that I am having some car issues and I am getting a little annoyed with it.
The first thing you should know is that I am a get in and drive 'em only kind of girl. I feel as if my only responsibility is to fill it up with gas, occasionally have it washed, and it gets an oil change when the light comes on and says that it is needed. I see no need in wasting my time when the lights are supposed to tell me when it is in danger. I really dislike having to do any maintenance on it either. I realize that normal wear and tear will create a need for new tires, breaks, and all the other mechanical stuff that I have no idea what it does, but these things really badly get on my nerves. I also hate the feeling I get in my stomach when a light suddenly appears and I have no idea what it means. Emergency brake light comes on while I am driving. Do I have my emergency brake on? NO! Why the light then? My dad says maybe I should get my brakes checked. Really, dad? Why isn't another light coming on that says that. This is my emergency brake light. He responds with there are only so many lights on a car. Well, there should be a different one for the brakes than for the emergency brake.
The second thing you should know is that my car has been wrecked several times. Only 2 of them were my fault. Well, 2 out of 4 isn't so bad and weather played a key role in one. The road was damp and so was the grass when I left the road. Not really my fault at all if we are pointing fingers. (Except I am not really a very good driver.) Hence the reason that I have one black mirror and one white mirror. (I turned my car over on its side.) When ordering the replacement mirror, they asked the color of the CAR, not the color of the MIRRORS! So now as I drive down the road, my car is flirting with everyone it meets. That's because it winks at everyone. Crazy I know, but what can a girl do?
The third thing you should know is that as much as I love my car, I really want a new one. However, with the economy the way it is and jobs being so hard to find, I have decided to forgo a new car and drive mine until the wheels fall off. I thought that it might happen sooner than later the other day when I got in and cranked it up and the "winter drive" button came on instead of the "power drive" button (overdrive). It wasn't snowing and the buttons hadn't accidentally been pushed. So my thoughts are that the computer might be messing up. Who knows? Not me, I tell you because I'm a get in and drive 'em only kind of girl.
The last thing you should know is that I have a friend who is just like me. We call and warn each other when our dads, boyfriends, or grandparents ask if we've checked the oil lately. If I'm asked and get yelled at, I know it is only a matter of a few days before the same question and yelling are headed her way. The funniest part of the entire story is one morning a couple of weeks ago, I tell her about the brake light that is coming on. She then starts asking me mechanical questions about fluids, brake lines, and a bunch of other nonsense. I answer each question with, "I don't know" or "I have no idea" and then realize who I am talking to. She knows as much about this stuff as I do and let me tell you that is VERY little.
My car is getting checked out this weekend. I am hoping there are only small repairs if any that need to be done and I am also hoping the price is within my budget of $30 or less. If not, then I may have to drive around going 10 mph because the winter drive and my emergency brake are on.
:o)
The first thing you should know is that I am a get in and drive 'em only kind of girl. I feel as if my only responsibility is to fill it up with gas, occasionally have it washed, and it gets an oil change when the light comes on and says that it is needed. I see no need in wasting my time when the lights are supposed to tell me when it is in danger. I really dislike having to do any maintenance on it either. I realize that normal wear and tear will create a need for new tires, breaks, and all the other mechanical stuff that I have no idea what it does, but these things really badly get on my nerves. I also hate the feeling I get in my stomach when a light suddenly appears and I have no idea what it means. Emergency brake light comes on while I am driving. Do I have my emergency brake on? NO! Why the light then? My dad says maybe I should get my brakes checked. Really, dad? Why isn't another light coming on that says that. This is my emergency brake light. He responds with there are only so many lights on a car. Well, there should be a different one for the brakes than for the emergency brake.
The second thing you should know is that my car has been wrecked several times. Only 2 of them were my fault. Well, 2 out of 4 isn't so bad and weather played a key role in one. The road was damp and so was the grass when I left the road. Not really my fault at all if we are pointing fingers. (Except I am not really a very good driver.) Hence the reason that I have one black mirror and one white mirror. (I turned my car over on its side.) When ordering the replacement mirror, they asked the color of the CAR, not the color of the MIRRORS! So now as I drive down the road, my car is flirting with everyone it meets. That's because it winks at everyone. Crazy I know, but what can a girl do?
The third thing you should know is that as much as I love my car, I really want a new one. However, with the economy the way it is and jobs being so hard to find, I have decided to forgo a new car and drive mine until the wheels fall off. I thought that it might happen sooner than later the other day when I got in and cranked it up and the "winter drive" button came on instead of the "power drive" button (overdrive). It wasn't snowing and the buttons hadn't accidentally been pushed. So my thoughts are that the computer might be messing up. Who knows? Not me, I tell you because I'm a get in and drive 'em only kind of girl.
The last thing you should know is that I have a friend who is just like me. We call and warn each other when our dads, boyfriends, or grandparents ask if we've checked the oil lately. If I'm asked and get yelled at, I know it is only a matter of a few days before the same question and yelling are headed her way. The funniest part of the entire story is one morning a couple of weeks ago, I tell her about the brake light that is coming on. She then starts asking me mechanical questions about fluids, brake lines, and a bunch of other nonsense. I answer each question with, "I don't know" or "I have no idea" and then realize who I am talking to. She knows as much about this stuff as I do and let me tell you that is VERY little.
My car is getting checked out this weekend. I am hoping there are only small repairs if any that need to be done and I am also hoping the price is within my budget of $30 or less. If not, then I may have to drive around going 10 mph because the winter drive and my emergency brake are on.
:o)
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