Turkey with a side of disaster

This is not my home, thank goodness. I should have sensed a disaster day in the making when I read Heather's post - an earthquake?! Yesterday, someone launched their car into the air and through a living room wall the next town over - can you imagine a car in your living room? And the disoriented driver wandering around your home?

Anyway, the Better Half and I were home, adding up the day. He was kicking himself for a traffic ticket he'd garnered, and I was pulling turkey day ingredients out of our cabinets and muttering things like "Corn syrup, check. Pecans - need 'em". We went out to dinner to decompress a bit, and to do the last of the holiday grocery shopping (you can never have enough cranberries). I needed just one (more) skein of wool for a gift I'm making, so we stopped at a local craft store that carries decent yarn right next door to the grocery store. I found my yarn (and a few other things besides), and we hopped back into the car. On the way over to the grocery store, we heard the wheel rubbing. Somebody had backed into our bumper, cracked the headlight and dented our front fender in enough to make the wheel scrape when we hit bumps.

We were going to go to the Cape to see family on Friday... eat pulled pork and sweet potatoes, sew a slip cover for the futon, walk on the beach, have a fire in the fireplace... and because some rotten individual 1) didn't pay attention and 2) didn't stop and leave their name and contact information, we may not be doing that. Deductibles being what they are, we will probably be paying for this all by our little selves. The Better Half has the car at work today, and a sympathetic coworker may just be able to help us out enough to get us safely on the road for the weekend.

I'm an odd mix of cynicism and naivete. I'm rarely surprised but often terribly disappointed with how bad people can be sometimes. Thank god for car-guy coworkers, they help balance out my feelings about the people around me.

May you have your favorite holiday eats on the table this week, good company, helpful and kind people to offset the nasty types, and a better half who would never blame a fender dent on the fact that you needed yarn.

Merry Turkey!

One more corner left

Our poor little car. You've already heard about the exhaust system that our driveway beats to heck on a daily basis. Someday I might tell you about the fight I had with the dealership in regards to our sunroof (that they broke during a rainy week). We make it haul anything from our canoe to Christmas trees. The trees are usually much bigger than the canoe, if you can believe it. I have a penchant for tall fluffy trees that won't fit in the front door - so believe it.

I am starting to worry about the disaster magnetism of our car. Back left bumper - run into by a moron in a boom truck while parked at work. Despite blue paint streaks that match the company truck (driven that day by the moron), he swears he did not do it. Weeks after this first love tap... front left wheel well - run into by the neighbor as he tried to scoot his car out of the space next to ours. He was very apologetic, but did send Papa Bear in alone to tell Mama Bear what had happened. Mama Bear was so mad, she didn't even say "What?!" or talk with her hands. I growled a lot, but thankfully it was unintelligible.

And then there's today. We're leaving the home-improvement-store-of-gross-and-greedy- warehouse-proportions. We watch a truck ("Oh geez! He's not gonna make it! Aagh! Our car!") pull away from a space he's unsuccesfully trying to back into. He misses our car by inches. We have enough time to sigh in relief before he's tries again, cutting it even wider ("Hey! Stop!"), pushing his back bumper into our right headlight. Crunch. Our little Honda bounces.

The driver gets out of the truck... and his wife hands him his cane. Not a good sign. From his speech and movement, it's obvious he is recovering from a stroke. Unable to feel anything but resentment that he's returned to driving, I sit in the car while Steve sorts out the details. The man's wife takes off like a shot, headed for another store (cheap-crap-designed-to- bring-the-US-economy-to-it's-knees). Not reassuring behavior. A lemon shortbread cookie of the Girl Scout variety soothes my temper a bit. Steve is wonderful and seems to ease the old man's anxieties just by being polite and calm. As he turns to leave, the man notices the car next to us, and points. A woman is getting out, and her door swings... it almost hits... As if acknowledging that that side has already been tagged twice, it clears. "I thought for sure they were gonna get you too" he says.

We have one more corner left, and wait for that last crunch to correct our "ding shui".

Classic Disaster in Connecticut

Whenever I haven't had a disaster in a while, I start to worry. The universe tends to even things out, so I feel like there must be something big in store for me. Little things don't really count, like how my coat sleeve was apparently stuck under the spout of the coffee dispenser this morning and made me pour coffee into my sleeve. That's just a little joke. No, what I'm worried about is the Next Big Thing. I am way overdue. I thought I might try to remind whoever is in charge of this sort of thing of a few of the things that have happened in the past. Maybe they'll feel sorry for me and think twice before sending something new.

Since my car has been featuring prominently in my life these days, I thought I'd remind them about what happened last April, on an ill-advised trip to Connecticut.

M had an interview down in Connecticut for a teaching position, so I thought it would be "fun" to go with him. Get out of town for a quick overnight trip, see a little of an area we might end up moving to, and generally keep him company. His car is sort of like driving a tin can, so we decided to take mine. Hah! Be warned, this is a long story.

The drive started out fine, until we hit the Connecticut border. We stopped for gas and the car started to overheat for no apparent reason. It was unseasonably warm and the air conditioning wasn't working, so that was probably part of the problem. I found out later that the place I had taken the car two weeks earlier to recharge the cooling system had somehow clipped a wire that was essential for the air conditioning to work. After spending a little time in a well placed shopping plaza with an AC Moore and a Barnes and Noble, we hit the road again and hoped for the best.

We managed to navigate the Connecticut Turnpike without any more incidents, and got to the hotel. I can't remember the name of the town we were in, but I remember someone telling me that the singer 50 Cent had recently moved to this enclave of preppiedom, and people were freaking out. Our room was of course "not ready", despite the fact that it was more than an hour past the stated check in time. We went out for a bite to eat and when we went back an hour later, guess what? Still not ready. Half an hour later, we got into a room and collapsed. We were only a few minutes away from the Mohegan Sun Casino, so having never been to a real casino, we thought we'd go check it out. Also, I had heard that Lisa Loeb was playing a free concert there and I wanted to see her. I could see that they had done everything they could to make it beautiful and inviting, but no waterfall or light show could cover up the despair and sadness that filled the place as people stared with glassy eyes at their slot machines. I can't even begin to describe what it was like. We had a hugely overpriced and slightly unpleasant dinner in a supposedly gourmet restaurant with barely average food and atrocious service. We wandered back to the middle of the place to see if we could catch a glimpse of Lisa, which we were finally able to do. That was really the only good thing about the night. We found our way out and went back to our hotel for the night.

The next morning, we packed up and M got dressed in his new sport coat as we prepared to head over for the interview. We discovered that we had left his dress shoes at home. Now, you would think that finding a pair of shoes in the great state of Connecticut might not be a major production. The only mall we could find was set to be demolished later that week, and even though it was still technically open, there were only two stores in it. One was a shoe store. They didn't have any shoes. After driving around with no idea where we were for about an hour, we finally stumbled upon a Wal-Mart. Against my better judgement, the boy needed shoes, so we sucked it up and bought some damned shoes.

Hot, sweaty, crabby and disheveled, we finally found the college. Turns out the address they gave us doesn't actually exist anymore, since they have rerouted and renamed the street that the school is on. We did our best to spiff M up a bit, and he headed off while I parked the car in the shade and took a nap. He was gone for a long time. I told myself that this was a good sign, that they had a lot to talk about. Nope. They were merely keeping him waiting around while they tried to find the person who was supposed to interview him. It didn't go well.

We struck out for home. If you have ever been on the Connecticut Turnpike through Hartford, then I don't have to explain what that was like. If not, all I can tell you is that if you are driving any slower that 85 mph, you're gonna get creamed. We pulled off the highway to a rest area to get out and stretch and generally pull ourselves back together. I figured it was M's turn to drive for a while, since I was still shaking from the last half dozen miles. He put the car in reverse and hit the gas. The next thing we know, there is a horrible screech and a bang, and the car lurches to a stop. After getting out and lying on the ground under my car I had no choice but to admit that this car wasn't going anywhere. The axle was not attached to the car anymore, and was crammed up into the wheel well, scraping the hell out of the wheel. Still shaking, and now crying, having realized what could have happened if it had fallen off while we were driving, I did what any girl would do, and I called my Dad. M called AAA for help. Three hours later, a tow truck showed up. What we really needed was a flat bed because THE AXLE SHE IS BROKEN AND THE WHEELS THEY NO GO!!! No one seemed to understand this except the tow guy who said "I can't help you, you need a flat bed." We called AAA again. They have no record of us ever having called, and we start all over, stressing the importance of the need for a flat bed and trying to explain where we were. When we pulled off the road, it was around five-thirty. By the time the flat bed shows up, it was close to midnight. The guy driving the truck had never used a flat bed before, and was completely clueless. It took him forty-five minutes to get the car on the truck, in the process dragging the car sideways, effectively separating the rest of the wheel from the car. We got in the truck and drove to a Citgo station that was in the middle of nowhere and was very, very closed. Our helpful driver left us there by a dumpster in the dark, at one-fifteen in the morning, with no idea where we were or what we were going to do. He did give us a phone number for a cab. We called, and one of the nicest, kindest people I have ever met came to get us. He drove us to the next town over where we finally found a Holiday Inn Express that would take us in. The first couple of places we passed were a truck stop and something else that defies description. Our cab driver refused to stop at either one, saying they just weren't safe. The next two were full. Apparently there was a girls basketball championship going on.

The next day, it became clear that the mechanics at this Citgo station were just as inept as their tow guy, and I started to have my doubts that they could fix this. I called my Dad again, and since I was obviously near the breaking point, he called them for me and we all decided that the best thing to do was to get the car away from them. We called AAA again and went through the whole tow truck vs. flat bed thing again to get it to the local Midas. At least this time we were within walking distance of a couple of restaurants and a TJ Maxx. What started out as an overnight trip ended up being three nights, which by the way, wasn't cheap. So, between the cost of the room, extra meals, extra clean clothes purchased at TJ Maxx, and a few items I didn't need that simply made me feel better, the car repairs and towing charges, it cost us close to $1,500.00 to go to Connecticut for a job that Mark didn't get.

The moral of this story? Never go to Connecticut.

Electromagnetic Anomaly?

I have problems with electrical things. I have so many problems with electrical things that someone suggested to me yesterday that I go get my aura cleansed. Apparently I'm a ticking time-bomb, walking around shorting things out.

I started thinking about the possibility that this was caused by some strange electromagnetic force that is actually coming from me. I don't know if there is any science to support this theory, but I can't come up with any other explanation. In the past ten years, my presence has ruined two water heaters, two refrigerators, a dish washer, a clothes dryer and two furnaces. Computers cower before me and die, sadly beeping. Light bulbs pop and go out as I walk through my house. I can't touch anything metal, anywhere, without getting a shock. I have to put my hand somewhere on my husband before kissing him, or we both get shocked. (No, that is not what I mean!) I once lived in a house that had a light fixture in the laundry room that wouldn't work. We even had an electrician out twice to figure it out. His only suggestion was to run new wiring and get a new fixture. That sounded fairly expensive, so we didn't bother. Shortly after I moved out, the light started working again, and it's been fine ever since. The fluorescent lights in my office at work need to be replaced every couple of months. There are lights in this building that have yet to be replaced after more than two years. The lights in our parking lot don't work. Street lights go out as I drive by them.

My most common victim is cars. My first car had a problem with the wiring that we didn't know about until it spontaneously combusted in our driveway. My second car, which I had for four years, went through two alternators, a starter and three batteries. The next car was okay for most of it's time with me, but the last two years were more of the same kinds of trouble. I'd be driving along and it would just slow down, the lights would dim and it would finally stop. Two more batteries and an alternator later, it finally stopped being my problem. That car ran for years for it's next owner. After that, I had a small truck for about a year. I got rid of that after sparks started shooting out from under the dashboard. If a car is trying to get my attention like that, I figure it must be serious. Then, along came my current car, my wonderful little Honda. This is the longest I've managed to keep a car without it bursting into flames or getting totaled, so I'm very attached to it. It almost caught on fire about three years ago, but that really wasn't my fault. I swear. I had nothing to do with it. Anyway, it is thirteen years old, and I don't even want to consider getting something else. I know the former owner of this car, and she never had a moment of trouble with it. I had it for about a year when the alternator had to be replaced. For the first time. It has been replaced three times in the seven years I've owned it. It has gotten two new starters in four years. I can't even tell you how many batteries it has eaten. She likes batteries. They're like potato chips to her, you can't eat just one!

Yesterday, on my way to work, I noticed a few things going on with my car. The wipers weren't moving very quickly and the windows were barely going up and down. The dash lights seemed dim. Someone asked me how I could tell that the dash lights were dim when it was so bright out. Well, that's another interesting story. My anti-lock brakes don't work, because the electrical pump that sends fluid to the anti-lock braking system has shorted out and I can't afford to replace it. Even if I did, it wouldn't last. So the bright yellow ABS light is always on when I drive. I could tell the lights were dimming because it wasn't it's usual shockingly bright yellow. I got to the store where I usually stop for coffee in the morning, and the battery light came on. What a surprise. I turned around and went back a little way to the Honda dealership, and they took the car for the day. They can't find anything wrong with it. Everything was perfect. Of course its perfect! I'm not in the car! They did suggest that it was probably the alternator getting ready to not be working anymore. Also not surprising. So, they're going to get to keep my car and feed her another new alternator. And I'm considering going to get my aura cleansed.