Hmmm....

I'm in Florida and have been for four days now. And nothing out of the ordinary or dramatic has happened. This is so unusual for me that I don't know whether to go with the flow and enjoy myself or hurl myself into Shamu's tank and get the inevitable over with.

They see me rollin'

We here a Casa de Silence have a new vehicular member. I normally wouldn't broadcast this (I mean really, who cares?) but there's a bit of drama leading up to why we need another car.

I extolled the virtues of my favorite vehicle here. I never did convince myself to give it up, even after deciding I couldn't afford to feed it anymore. After going through a particularly rough jobsite, it developed a thump in the front driver's side wheel. I took it to the dealer, who diagnosed a problem with the wheel assembly. They ordered the replacement parts and scheduled me to come back the next week for repairs. They told me that the parts and the repair were under warranty. They assured me that it was safe to drive and sent me on my merry way.


I finished up my errands and Silas and I headed home. At no time during our ride did the truck do anything different than it had been since it started the thump thing. I pulled into my driveway, got out and opened Silas' door for him. As I was helping him down from the truck, it shifted. Kind of like a manual transmission will if you don't quite have it all the way in gear when you park it. Then it creaked. Then it groaned. I'm creaking and groaning myself trying to get the boy's seatbelt unhooked and get him out of the mouth of this suddenly moving and groovin beast. I got it free and pulled him down just as the front tire fell off of the truck! Yes, yes it did. Fell right the fack off. Plop.


I stood there in utter shock and horror, staring at my now Dali-esque, twisted truck. Silas and I looked at each other, then back at the truck, then each other. I was truly at a loss for words or action. It didn't seem quite like a 911 incident, but perhaps a AAA call wouldn't be unwarranted? I pondered for a few moments. But then I came to my senses. And then I got mad. Mama Bear got up on her hind legs and roared. My child had just been in that truck. The one that not three hours ago I had been assured was safe. What if that wheel had come off while we were cruising down the interstate at 70mph? (which is the speed limit, btw) We could have wiped out an entire family if we had been thrown into oncoming traffic, not to mention ourselves.


My first call wasn't to 911 or AAA. It was to the dealer who sent me away in an unsafe vehicle. The next was to the corporate office of the automaker. The third was to my secretary. I sent him directly to the law library to start research on which jurisdiction to file the suit in. I'm not normally a litigious person (so says she who once made her living off litigious peoples), mostly because I know how loooong it can take and that no one ever wins these types of cases even if they do get a settlement because legal fees eat it all up. But wait! I have no legal fees. The benefit to representing ones self (other than having a fool for a client) is that I can wait it out as long as they can.


My decision to file suit was based on one thing the automaker told me. They decided that somewhere between my leaving the dealer and getting home several hours later that the defective part was a wear item and therefore not covered under the warranty. This is despite the documentation that I have that clearly stated otherwise. If they had fixed the truck, I probably wouldn't have sued them. (The reason I'm being very careful not to mention Henry's last name is because we're currently in litigation.)


Aaaaaannnnnnyyyywaaaaay, sheesh, what a lead in just to tell you that this is my new car:






Beep beep.

The trip, she is planned

With stunning organization and stupefying quickness, I have finalized the plans for the trip to my daughter's graduation (you know, the graduation that I've known about for two years?) a whopping two weeks before the big day. Admit it, you're jealous of my mad skillz in the planning department.



I managed to get a flight out of Dulles, Washington DC to Orlando (and back), a motel (supposedly a resort, we'll see), and a rental car for eight days, seven nights for three people for $1000 from Travelocity. So yeah, all that for a thousand bucks? I'm thinking we'll be staying in a hovel with bulletproof glass in the walk up office and no a/c. In Florida. In June. While driving an 18 year old rental Yugo. Which I'll come out of the room to find on blocks covered with gang tags.



In other needs, I could use more advice. It's been about a hundred years since I've flown commercial. I need suggestions for my preshuss (laptop) and my even more preshuss (camera). Do I carry them on? Check them in my luggage *shudder*? Buy them their own seat? Put Silas in the overhead and let them have his seat? Halp meh, peeps. I've been completely spoiled by having a father who is a pilot with a teeny tiny itty bitty plane. I don't know how to function in a normal society anymore. I'm assuming that my usual routine of throwing everything I think I might possibly need, including firearms, ammo, mace and brass knuckles, into a bag and tossing it into the plane won't fly anymore. (Har! get it? fly?) What do you guys do with your preshusses? Please do share.

Your wisdom is requested

Poppets, I need your help. I must fly to Orlando for my oldest daughter's college graduation. I'm considering using priceline.com. Have any of you used this service before? I'm trying to figure out if I make a bid and it's accepted, will our seats be together? I'd hate to purchase 3 seats and have poor Silas sitting off somewhere all alone.

I realize that this would be better suited to twitter, but I don't tweet soooo......

I await your wisdom.

Dear innernetz, please excuse my absence due to...

...general lack of anything nice to say. Did your mother ever tell you "if you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything at all"? Since I haven't had anything good to say about anyone or anything, I've tried to keep my yap shut.

I've taken myself off of my crack anti depressants and have had a bit of an adjustment, as is to be expected. My psychiatrist supervised this little endeavor, btw. I am finally to the point where I am accepting that not everything is going to go the way I want it to, and am dealing with that in a much better way. I have stopped being an ass and learned to monitor and control my moods.

I think I was on the prozac out of sheer laziness. Truly, I do. It is so much easier to take a pill than to actually think about how I'm feeling and my reactions to situations. I understand that people need the medicine and can't live a quality life without it. But I think I was taking it to avoid having to deal with any emotion other than oooh, pretty!. When I read blogs from people who go to therapy every week and actually work through their issues, I am so filled with envy. That they can do that incredibly hard work, lay themselves open to inspection (even from themselves) and learn from it inspires me.

I've started with a bit of introspection meself. So far, I have realized the following:

I am lazy. I didn't used to be, but I have always tried to find the easiest way to get the result I wanted. Now I'm just 'the hell with it' or my favorite standby, 'who cares?'.

I am mean. I think I always have been, but have been too polite to let my true light shine. In my dotage, I let her rip. Viciously, with no holds barred, to the detriment of anyone around me. But honestly, some people just need to be told.

I have a huge sense of entitlement. I deserve whatever I want, whether I worked for it, can afford it, or need it.

In the tiny little dark part of my brain that I try not to let out often, I think I'm better than some people because I'm educated. Sad, but true. Even sadder? No one in my immediate family is educated.

I'm not all bad. I love with my whole heart. I'll do anything to help you. I try to anticipate anything that might make your journey easier and provide it.

When I took my little sojourn to the ocean to ponder life's mysteries, one of the decisions I made was to try the summer without medication. To take life on armed with only my wits (sad weaponry at best) and intelligence (slightly better, still lacking). I need to know that I can be nice and personable and normal by being willing to work on it and making a decision when I wake up in the morning to appreciate the day instead of choosing to stomp around in a huff snarking at everything that breathes too loud.

So far, so good.