Exasperation Defined

I am trusting. That is different from naive. I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps that is why I believed the telephone survey guy when he asked for a moment of my time.

Webster says a "moment" is : 1 a : a minute portion or point of time : INSTANT b : a comparatively brief period of time.

I asked this man what was his definition of a "moment". He replied that he only required 3 minutes. THIRTEEN minutes later I had answered every invented useless question related to taco establishments.

He asked me if I had ever eaten at an establishment named "Baja Fresh".
I answered No.
The very next question was "Do you like Taco Bueno or Baja Fresh better?"
My answer: "I don't know what Baja Fresh is"
Next question: "How would you rate the cleanliness of Baja Fresh versus Taco Bell?"
My answer: "I don't know what Baja Fresh is"
Next question: "Do you eat at Baja Fresh a. one time a week, b. 2-3 times a week, c. 5 times a week, d.--"
I couldn't let him finish. "Seriously, I can't answer any questions about Baja Fresh"
"Ok Ma'am, I'm sorry. Now, would you recommend Baja Fresh to your friends?"

What I do recommend to my friends is to hang up if the survey guy asks you for "3" minutes of your time.

The "Not-So-Easy-Button"

Is life getting too easy? I just used a calculator for double digit addition. I think that the key to preventing the demise of our intellect in the society of the “easy button” is to implement a “not so easy button”.

What if your calculator refused to solve simple problems? The readout would say…. "Duh. Do it yourself!"

What if the TV remote control did not work at close range?

What if your car went into “penalty phase” after you drove less than ½ a mile to a destination? I drive 2 blocks to the gym to work out.

What if email only allowed “x” number of correspondences before a face to face or “real letter” was initiated?

Nah, I like easy.

Is There a Doctor in the House?

There is at my house!

Congrats to my husband Burrojoe for passing his dissertation defense on Friday!

Now he's Dr. Burrojoe.

He's brainy AND Cute! Beat that ladies!

Cars are no longer People

And the saga continues again...(and then abruptly ends. Then begins, then ends.)

Summer 1997-In comes the 1992 Silver Mitsubishi Eclipse originally named Joshua after my favorite U2 Album, Joshua Tree. You know how God changed people’s names in the bible to better suit them? That is why I changed the name of this car to "Saul of Tarsus". This is because he was persecuting Christians---me especially.

I learned very quickly it was a bad idea to buy a car from a man named Sam who knew little English and operated out of a building the size of a snow cone stand. Also, a valid reason for choosing one car over the other was not that it had a cooler CD player. That aside, it took 3 engines, 2 timing belts, 3 radiators and a myriad of other things to go wrong with it before I had finally had enough. My sweet parents had to finance all of the above as I was a poor college student, so they should be bitterer than me.

I can count no less than 15 places in town where I have broken down. It seems like all of the places I broke down were abandoned hotels, Adult book stores, dark, scary gas stations on the bad side of town. Once this car broke down simultaneously with the onset of a stomach virus. Bad Day.

Now with the spirit of optimism, I would like to point out, that through these experiences I met some wonderful people...among them Benny the mechanic, his wife and (before Benny took charge of the repair) the other random people that would wait at Pep boys during my several hours there. That's where the sweet fluffiness ends.

When Joseph and I finally traded "Saul of Tarsaus" in, we were less excited about our new car purchase than getting rid of that car. We laughed like little children all the way home!

It was after this car that I stopped naming my automobiles. If they were going to let me down this much, I could no longer trust them or be respectful of them, so they became just another piece of machinery to me. Sad, that I had to become this way, because the 4 cars after that were super dependable and don’t deserve my indifference or wrath. Sometimes life (or a car) jades us beyond repair, no mechanic pun intended. But that’s just the way it is!

Cars Cars and more Cars

So the car drama continues.... 1995-1997 Black 1992 Chevy Cavalier named Job. Job earned his name for all the trials I put him through and he still remained faithful. He was quite possibly the most dependable car of my teenage life. Until John Cathy wrecked it coming back from Sigma Alpha formal. Not bitter, but my car dependability life suffered greatly after it.

Spring 1997 Blue and rust (all natural) colored 1985 Honda Accord. Named appropriately P.O.C.O. which stood for Piece-O-Crap-O. However annoying that you had to fill the tires every time you drove, POCO had his charms and served me well for the short time I drove him. For instance, how loveable is a car that had power lock (singular). The back left passenger door was the only one that worked when you hit the power lock button. Very convenient for that passenger, not so convenient for the others. POCO was actually a loaner from my brother, so thanks Brad!

This is the mundane area. Sweet memories for me, probably a pretty boring read for you. I would hate to skip these cars in my brief history of cars, as they played a role in the feelings and drama to be unfolded in the next blog about Saul.

So all of you who have been praying for patience, consider me a tool of the Lord and this blog as your first trial!

Cars are people too

A car can be your best friend or your worst enemy. I’ve learned in my short 12 years of driving that this can be true. I think car ownership has possibly even jaded my world view a bit. I’m not near as trusting as I was at the tender age of 16.
And thus begins a brief history of my automotive life.

We'll start with the first car and gradually continue.

1994- My first car was a blue 1987 Mazda. I named him Melton. Melton seemed like a chariot of freedom but strangely he smelled strongly of gas. I asked my dad if this was odd, as I had splitting headaches from the fumes every time I drove. I’m not just talking a scent….I’m talking OVERWHELMING stench of gas. A year later, when looking under the hood of my car, my dad noticed that gas was actually spurting on the engine. Amazing that I’m alive

Another adventure encountered with Melton:

Suprisingly modern for its age, Melton had a full digital dash; digital odometer, spedometer, gas tank readout. Typically you can depend on such gages, but with Melton, you could only depend on them if the temperature out side was 90 degrees or higher. Needless to say, I got everywhere VERY quickly (it's not speeding if you don't know how fast you are going, right?) and I ran out of gas OFTEN. Seven times? Now don't judge me. You may have run out too in these circumstances. Or maybe not. It did get to where I would call home from some strange place (pre-cell phone days) and say "guess what?" to which my parents would immediately ask "AGAIN?"

I may be the only person on record to get grounded for running out of gas.

I guess that all of us can't be in a hall of fame. But maybe this is mine.

stay tuned for the adventures with Job and Saul.