Drive It Like It's Stolen

I know it’s a delayed reaction when I chose to obsess over one tiny detail. I’m telling and retelling my story, praising OnStar, my husband, airbags and my insurance claims process when I get a call from the rental car company regarding my afternoon reservation. First he says they don’t have any vehicles right then, but should have something by 4 pm. Um. it’s a rental car company with at least two other branches in the metro area, isn’t that the PURPOSE of your company? To Have Cars? Two hours later, I shall call him Kyle, (because that’s his name) advised me he had a minivan ready for me.

OMG! OMG! A freaking MINIVAN! Who do you think I am? Just because I drive an Equinox does not make me a soccer mom, minivan driver. I have adult children. I don’t need a MINIVAN. All I could think of was that giant, powder blue behemoth with the clanky sliding side doors and pictures of stick figure family members pasted on the back window.

At one point once I’d realized my overreaction trigger, I tried to just suck it up. I told myself to just roll with it. The pervasive headache is not lingering affects of inhaling airbag disco sprinkles, and careening my skull against the headrest, it’s more than likely my ponytail is just too tight.

We made it to the rental car office (strangely not open on Sundays. what the heck?) in good time and spent a good half an hour schmoozing and talking Pitt State football with a former All Star player from the championship team. I managed to talk my way out of the dreaded mom mobile only to find myself “upgraded” to an ugly, dirty, smells like cleaning supplies and faint cigarette smoke Nissan Pathfinder. First off: it’s blue. Not that I have anything against generic navy as a color (I’m wearing a new Navy sweater coincidentally from OLD NAVY) but as Max Hinthorn always says, “Cars come in two colors. Red and Needs Paint.

It’s a car. It drives. It took me 15 minutes driving into the setting sun to change the radio from sports talk radio. It’s a car. It’ll suffice until either Starship Enterprise or The Big Red E is either repaired or replaced. It’s time to drive it like it’s stolen.

Again, I’m probably picking that mosquito bite to scratch when there’s clearly a bone sticking through my skin.


Drive It Like It’s Stolen


Delving the depths of depressive dismal despair, I dispiritedly dashed off this draft.
Ok. I was bored, lonely, angry gloomy at work last week and I wrote a poem.
A freaking poem. And of course, it is terrible, so I thought I’d share it with you.  Distributing the despondency.

(sticky note #4)

Look.  A blank stare.

Noticed-a guarded glare.

Almost more than I can bear.

Just a Tuesday.

*The whole second verse had to be scrapped because it DIDN’T RHYME.  I think I still have a beer left in the fridge, let’s wrap this up.

Ode De “D” or “Eau de Dee” or “Smells like Pretentious Narcissism


There are two kinds of people in this household.
There is the oblivious, you are there to serve me, I see nothing wrong with this picture.
You have supplied me with clean towel.
And then there is me.
I am compelled. Compelled to straighten this.

But there’s more…
After all these years I have finally reached the Matching Towels Status.
There are the big, fluffy, smells slightly like bleach heaven, cream colored towels and then there are these, the hard to find, hard to describe cranberry/not quite burgundy/not red, not magenta, maybe claret or oxblood, big fluffy towels.

For design purposes, juxtaposed against the decorative shower curtain (which changes regularly with season or holiday) must hang the dark towels. The cream ones belong in the shower to wrap yourself in the plush, oh so cleanness of them.
Also, the dark towels will not show the dirt and makeup the oblivious ones have not quite disposed of via soap, water and nearby sink.

I am in a silent war with my son as he too feels the compulsion to have things just so.
Unfortunately, his vision calls for the other towel to hang here.
I KNOW it is him that switches the towels. Just as I know who it is that has not yet EVER deposited a dirty washcloth in the conveniently near hamper.

You may well think that I am quietly batshit. You could be right.
Just like the lady in Twin Peaks with her window blinds.

Just So.


endless loop

“Oh I used to be disgusted
And now I try to be amused.
But since their wings have got rusted,
You know, the angels wanna wear my red shoes.”
-Elvis Costello.

who doesn’t love Elvis?

endless loop


day 1

day 1