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Tuesday, January 3, 2006

Whatís the worst that could happen? Funny you should ask, because thatís exactly what kept me awake most of the night. I kept seeing myself trying to drive through the mud on a nearly flat tire. In one scenario I got stuck, which was bad enough. Take two: I slide across into the ditch, landing upside down and locked in because of my wonky locking system, with no cell phone. Then it starts to rain and all my worries go away.

So I was on edge this morning when I strapped on my boots and trudged out to the road to inspect the situation. Even though it hadnít rained, except for a few sprinkles, since yesterday afternoon, the mud condition was about the same. Thick and juicy, like wet cement. It was no fun to walk through, but I decided to take a chance on driving through it. What did I have to lose? What was the worst that could happen?

My doubts started when I couldnít get into my car. I was locked out again, and it took me several minutes of locking and unlocking with the remote before I tried the key and braced myself for a blaring alarm to sound. It didnít, though, and I got in and got going and made it through the mud and onto the street without incident. It turned out to be much easier to drive through than to walk through.

My first stop, as I promised myself it would be, was the gas station that has an air hose. You donít get air for free these days, so I put in my two quarters and gave the left front tire a couple of spurts. My next stop was going to be the bank, but when I turned the key I got that dead, squishy sound I first heard about three weeks ago. I know what happened then; I locked the door and then unlocked it and it started. So I tried it again, and it didnít work. Nothing, barely a sound. Stranded at Rotten Robbieís.

Maybe this was the worst that could happen.

The last time my car wouldnít start, I waited until the tow truck got here, and he was able to start it right away. So I waited. And waited and waited, but it seemed mere waiting wasnít going to work this time. I called the nice folks at Saturn Roadside Assistance, and they set me up with a tow truck, and I went back to my car to wait, and just for fun I turned the key. And it started right up. I turned off the engine and started it again, and it worked fine.

So I pulled out of the way and called Saturn back to cancel the service call. I probably should have driven straight to the dealer, handed them the key, and told them to keep the car until it was fixed. But I didnít. I didnít go to the bank, either, because I wanted my next stop, which could have been my last stop, to be the post office. That was the one place I had to go today, the one reason I couldnít have avoided leaving the house even if it meant driving through wet cement.

And everything worked fine for the rest of the day. I got to the post office, and after that to the bank, and I even picked up some groceries. I couldnít get everything on my list, because the delivery trucks havenít been able to get through yet, and some of the shelves were bare. I snagged the very last green bell pepper in the produce department. There were no chicken breasts or tenders, so tonightís recipe was meatless.




31 December 2005

Last Saturday, I foolishly thought this meant the end of the storm.



Shortly after I got home it started raining again. It rained steadily, but not hard, all afternoon. I walked out to get the mail just before it got dark, because I wanted to wait as long as possible to be sure I only had to make one trip. I learned that walking through my own wheel ruts, which were filled with new rainwater, was much easier than walking through the mud. If the rain keeps up all night, I might decide I donít need to go anywhere tomorrow. But Iíll be driving on a tire that no longer feels low to me. Itís amazing what a difference a little air made, and it gave me a whole lot more confidence to drive in the rain and through the mud.




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Stuff

If you are moved, as I was, by the sad story in Sunshynís January 1 entry, you might consider a donation to help with the legal fees to bring poor little Roo, who has no idea whatís happening, back home where he belongs. Itís so maddening that something like this is allowed to happen, but whatís really mystifying is why someone would coldly and deliberately do this to a child. Click the graphic to donate.

Bring the Boy Back Home

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Today's Comments:
Yesterday's Comments:


One year ago: Name Calling
"At least the Angels played their first game ever in Los Angeles. The Dodgers canít make that claim."

Two years ago: Overloaded
"I still couldn't hear, and it still felt as if someone had stuffed a cheese log in my ear. (Gertrude and Claudius gettin' creative after watching too much Emeril.)"

Three years ago: Spice Channels
"Variety being the best way to keep everything from tasting like mutton, I don't mind spicing up my viewing with a little surprise now and then."

Four years ago: Stumped
"It doesn't have to stay sunny all weekend — I'll take whatever I can get — but it would be a fine and friendly change of pace, and I'd gladly believe in whatever miraculous force you could show me that made it happen."

Five years ago: Different Worlds
"Out here, I'm one of a million different creatures, some of them unseen, some of them unknown, but all of us part of one world."

Six years ago: Happy New Week
"It's comforting to have everyone (including myself) convinced that no one else can do what I do. I get a lot of leeway in times like these."


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