You Know You Own Your Car When...

Today was not just an ordinary day. Today I felt like an adult. Why? Because I encountered adult problems.

My day started out normal enough. I was pretty bummed that Mike's half day was cancelled, so I would need to come home for lunch to let Caliber out. I always lose my spot when I return and need to park a mile away. Yesterday I actually wandered around two rows before I bumped into my car by chance.

As I pulled into the parking lot at work I noticed a premo spot! There was a vehicle ahead of me in line and I thought "shoot, they're gonna take my spot!" Well they didn't! And thank God, because as I turned around the horse-shoe curve the car's engine light, battery light and oil light came on. I couldn't accelerate, and as I coasted down the aisle I prayed I would at least make it to the open spot. I was so elated when I made it. Then I realized my car also had no power steering, but luckily my arms aren't as weak as I thought, and I made it.

After the initial shock of my car dying wore off, I texted Mike. He had me try to restart my car and hold the gas pedal down at the same time, but that didn't work. After panicking about not knowing what to do, I decided to find out if Bergstrom had a mechanic shop in town.

Bergstrom Body Shop was great to work with when I had my car in for a new door (after my neighbor backed into the old one), so I called the 800 number on their website for help. They gave me a number of their recommended towing company, who I called next. The guy on the phone, while nice, wasn't really explaining things to me. He didn't even ask for my license plate number, so I made sure to let him know. After we hung up I wondered how Bergstrom would get into my car if I had the key, and was told I don't need to be there when the car is picked up... So I called the tow truck company back to tell him I'd put the spare key in the glove box. The man seemed grateful.

When Bergstrom called to tell me my car arrived, I asked for someone to pick me up and take me home. This short ride with an elderly driver was an adventure in itself. I got into the car and we were making chit chat about my employment when all of a sudden the car phone spoke "Please hang up, or press star for more options." Turns out he left me a REALLY long voicemail. We moved on to the weather, and I mentioned it's supposed to rain later this week. He told me that since he just got his car washed, he'll have to take his other car to the bar this weekend so he can stay out later. That way, if it rains, it won't dirty his recently washed vehicle.

When he made a turn away from my house, I asked him where we were going. He said, "The dealership." I was so confused. I thought he knew my home address from the guy that arranged the pick-up, but no that's not the case. Good thing I only live a few blocks away from the dealership, so it wasn't too far out of his way. My street name is both a Court and an Avenue, but they are not near each other. And even though I told the driver that I live on the Ave, and explained where it was, he tried to take me to the Court. Good grief.

When I got home, Caliber greeted me at the door (of course), and I noticed his black nose was now white, so I asked him why. When I turned to put my coat in the closet, my question was answered. He clawed and chewed my wall. Come on! The majority of my hours are worked from home, but this week I was in the office Monday-Wednesday from 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. He is just not used to being alone THAT much, so he did it out of anxiety/boredom. I can't blame him, but I'd really rather he just pee all over or something that I don't need to paint. He also chewed some holes in Mike's gloves he left out. The other day Caliber also got a hold of Mike's hat he left out. I really hope Mike sees the pattern and uses this as a learning experience.

As you can see, I'll need get the paint and brushes out of storage.

While I don't want my car to ever have problems, I do prefer that it chose to die in my works' parking lot than on the highway. I am actually really relieved it happened the way it did. It turns out that I didn't even need to go into the office today; I could've worked the whole shift from home! But if I didn't miss the text telling me that, the next time I would've been driving my car would be tomorrow on the highway by myself. No thanks!

I was keeping my sense of humor about all of this crazy until the mechanic called to update me. My timing belt broke, and they need to order a new one along with a tensioner (whatever that is). Apparently these things are expensive, because my bill (as of right now) is $615. Once they disassemble it to swap out the parts, they'll be able to tell me if anything else is wrong with it. Can't wait!

Resolutions To Consider

In light of New Year's, I'd like to share a list of resolutions I SHOULD make, but will not:

• Exercise
• Stop nagging Michael about various things (IE: stop playing your stupid video game, do the dishes, clean the stove, chew with your mouth closed, stop snoring...)
• Become a better cook (I prefer baking)
• Reeeelaaaaax
• Put money into savings
• Shop less
• Read more novels! (I used to read for leisure... Now I watch TV--even when nothing is on)
• Develop a more adventurous pallet (I never try new foods)

So what will I be doing in 2013 if I'm not doing the things I should?  Michael and I have decided to eat out/order in less, cook with more fresh foods and watch our portions. 

Looking back at 2012, it really has been a magnificent year for me. We bought the house, got the pup, adopted the kitten, I lost 20 pounds and have kept it off, I paid off my car and I opened my Etsy shop (www.etsy.com/shop/markitmiscellaneous). Hooray! 

Take My Grandpa's License Away!

I just picked up my contacts from the eye doctor and decided to take a spin through Starbucks' drive-thru before hitting the highway back home. I made it safely through the round-a-bout onto a four lane semi-busy road. I'm driving along and coming up to an intersecting street. All of a sudden a silver Ford Focus tries to make a left turn in front of me from the crossing street. I do not have a traffic light or stop sign, mind you. They, however, do! I had to swerve, honk my horn and yell "WHAT THE FUCK?" (pardon my French).

Then I realized it was my grandfather. I swore at my grandfather. My heart was racing, and I'm not quite sure if the surprised look on his face was that of recognition, or fear of being hit. If I see him on Christmas, am I supposed to bring this up? What is proper protocol for handling this situation? I should check out the Hallmark aisle at the store to see if there are any cards for the occasion. 

Teenage Termoil

Caliber turned six months old on November 12. Since then, he has really been a snot. The next couple months with him are going to be trying, I'm sure. Between six and eight months is what "they" call a dog's "teenage years." He is constantly full of energy, and not that great of a listener (unless you have chicken in your hand). Every walk we take him on, it's like he just discovered he has a nose. He zig zags all over the place, pulling at the end of his leash to get a wonderful whiff of God knows what.

We made it through teething with only losing a few rolls of toilet paper, but now he's just being rebellious. Examples as follows:

• I took a 10 minute shower and came out to him chewing up my Airwalk slipper shoes. Damnit. Now what inappropriate shoes am I going to wear in the rain and snow, and then complain about my feet being drenched and make Mike mad and say "I told you so"?
• I let Cal outside and a few moments later when I came back to check on him, he already dug up one of our plants in the backyard. How rude. Now he digs in that hole every time he goes outside. Ah! Save your digging for the dog park, please!
• While Mike was in the shower this morning, he came out to a chewed and shredded notebook, topped with orange pen shards. He also began chewing on the platter mat for my record player. Le sigh.
• He has realized he can now sniff the counter tops. He's tall and nosey. Let the counter surfing begin!
• He chases the cat. OK, OK, he did that before he turned six months... I must say, Kisa is becoming a lot more brave about coming out of her little room. Especially when she's hungry!

Despite all of this, he's still the cutest, silliest, sweetest, most bestest dog ever.

Kisa the Kitten

Why I thought adopting a kitten at this point in Caliber's life was a good idea, I'll never know. I've been wanting a cat for years and Mike has been telling me to get one (especially the free ones at Petco), but it just never seemed right. I was aimlessly wandering through petfinder.com and came across a very cute kitten at my local shelter. I had no choice but to adopt her, if for nothing else, to change her name to anything besides Nicole. Who names a cat Nicole? This little cutie pictured below had been at the shelter for THREE MONTHS! Can you believe it? She came in as a stray, and is believed to be about five months old. We're pretending she has the same birthday as Caliber since he was five months old too!

 

I named her Kisa (pronounced Keysa). It's from the wonderful manga Fruits Basket. Cute as can be, but she's been a real challenge for my little guy. He just wants to play with her and sniff her all the time. I think he's expecting her to play like the dogs at the dog park. Instead she shys (runs frantically) away from Caliber.

 

This is pretty much how the entire day goes...Kisa on her side of the baby gate, Caliber on the other... whining. Nonstop. Pacing. Ringing the bell to go outside. Sniffs around the house for her. I swear he thinks there are two of her. Getting a big gulp of water. Repeat.

 

 

Until she runs across the house and dashes under the bed. Then all hell breaks lose. Caliber isn't quick enough for Kisa's tight maneuvering. His paws thomp on the floor (when did I get a horse?) and his claws scurry--I swear our hardwood floors are an ice rink for him. Of course, when the bedroom door is closed it really throws off her game. You never know if she'll make it back to laundy room in time, or if she'll hideout behind the couch.

 

We have tried everything to get them to be calm around each other. Caliber has never once tried to hurt her, he just buries his nose into her for a good smell that he cannot get enough of (no, she doesn't appreciate it). We had her wear a calming collar that smelled like lilacs and chamomile that was supposed to mimic mom's pheromones, but it didn't seem to calm her. We had Caliber on a leash, but Kisa didn't know that so she still ran away. We had Kisa in the carrier and let Caliber come to it, but she just hissed at him. I even did the no-no thing and held her and put her near him. That actually seems to work the best. I kinda hold her against her will and don't let her swat at his nose. From what I read, it will take a while. It's been over two weeks and let me tell you... I am running low on patience. I can understand why she's afraid of a big thing charging at her, but he's not always chasing her and he's never once tried to bite her or anything.

 

It's extra hard for me because cats aren't energy-based like dogs are, so I don't know how people train them. I think it'll get better once Caliber stops reacting to her presence. Eventually she'll stop being afraid, right? I don't know how anyone, or anything, could not love my sweet baby dog. He doesn't get it either...

 





Damnit

On my last grocery store visit I accidentally bought Halloween Funfetti cake mix and frosting. Then the next day I accidentally baked it. Then Mike and I impressively only ate one piece each after dinner.

I put my Pyrex glass dish cover over the metal cake pan even though it didn't fit--just to cover it up so any random kitchen debris wouldn't ruin my masterpiece. Apparently I hallucinate pantry tornadoes and fridge hurricanes. As I placed it back in the oven for storage I thought, "Mike is going to turn the oven on and not realize this is in here." But, instead of doing anything about it I just walked away. I didn't even caution Michael.

The next day I had a piece of cake for breakfast (best decision ever), and placed the pan back in the oven. I went about my day and when dinner time was rolling around I decided we were having burgers and fries. A few minutes before Mike came home I preheated the oven so it'd be ready in time.

He walks in the door, greets Caliber and me and then alerts me that the cake pan is in the hot oven. Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.

So here's what I pulled out. If you look closely, you can see the black pot holder melted to the top right corner. It was pretty much unavoidable. Why I even used the damn cover is beyond me. You can tell it doesn't fit. It merely sat on top, doing nothing to keep my cake moist and delicious. Everyone knows there's no kitchen debris in the OVEN where I placed it. Le sigh.

Here's what a frosted cake looks like when you bake it...

The worst part is that I had a fork in the pan from when I ate my breakfast, so that was hard to pull off. I almost had to ask Mike to help, but didn't want him to know about it. Thank God I found some muscle! I couldn't save my Pyrex cover for my dish, but I managed to save my fork. Ya win some, ya lose some.

Once the melted cover cooled, it peeled off the pan pretty easily. The pan itself was in good shape. We thought about eating the cake, but the new texture it acquired stopped me. It was hard but spongey at the same time. And of course, I kept recalling when Fred Mertz baked a seven layer cake, but only presented one flat-as-a-pancake layer because he included them all as one! And the frosting was mixed in there too. Pretty sure his looked better than this.

So a few lessons were learned on this adventure--Next time I think Mike will F something up, say it out loud to help me remember so I'm less likely to F it up. And, don't put baked goods back in the oven. Just give up the counter space for God's sake. I have plenty of room! Good thing I'm not a homemaker full time! 

Questions

Here is a short list of questions I often ask myself:

• It is the 21st century... Why can't semi trucks accelerate to 65 mph by the time they reach the end of the on-ramp to enter the highway?
  
• Why don't I pee BEFORE I paint my nails?!
  
• When will Michael hang the curtain pull-backs I bought in June? Why don't I just do it myself?
  
• How do I not get sick of watching reruns of Gilmore Girls, Full House, Frasier and Roseanne no matter how many times I've seen the episode?
  
• Can I just get married now please? For free. Thanks.
  
• Will my walnut tree ever be empty of nuts? It's so scary to stand in my yard without a helmet.
  
• How was I lucky enough to get the best puppy in the universe?
  
• Why does Michael always try to talk to me while I'm blow drying my hair?
  
• Why oh why did I move to a city with no Taco Johns?
  
• When the H will Kraft get their shit together and change their box-opening design. It has never worked, and it never will. "To open, push here" it says. But opening it by a simple press of the thumb is NEVER going to happen. 

Sock Fight

Today I did Mike's laundry, and it reminded me of a "fight" we had a few months ago. You see, he found a "new" white sock in his clothes pile. He declared it must be mine, because it was too white and new to be his. After I looked at it I said, "Michael, that is not mine--it's huge!" He was too stubborn to realize that maybe (just maybe) this particular sock has been hiding at the back of the drawer for a few months. Disgusted by this "mysterious" sock, he tossed it in the garbage.

So today I snuck into his sock drawer determined to prove myself right. And what did I find? A crisp, white sock to match the one he carelessly threw away. Now this lonely sock will be without it's sole mate (see what I did there?).

He obviously has this style of sock in his "used" sock collection...

Just for laughs, here's a comparison of his athletic sock (bottom) compared to mine (top).

My Puppy is Acting Like a Puppy

Remember that cute, little fluffy pup I brought home on July 7? Me neither. I literally have to look at pictures to remember how little he was! It's funny to think how much my life is different now that I have a "baby". Things I can add to my resume:

• Amateur Dog Whisperer
• Typical Worrisome Mom

This morning I brought Caliber in from his kennel and noticed a red spot on the inside of his back leg.  I got a good look at it and saw a thin, red ring with pink shading inside. Oh no. Ringworm. I called the vet and took him in.

The doctor held a black light up to the spot to see if it glowed under it. If it glows, it's a good indication that it is indeed ringworm. It did not glow. :) Whew! She told me that ringworm in dogs is actually more scaley and typically on their face. It's most often picked up by cats who are infected. He was wrestling with another puppy at the dog park, and it could've been a bruise from that. I had no idea a bruise could look like human ringworm, but, I am so glad it does! It could also be a bug bite. Either are likely.

While we there, we also checked to see if his second testicle descended, and it did! Finally! If it didn't by six months, it means it probably will never drop, and he'd need surgery to remove it. If it stays up in him, then he's more likely to develop the cancers that are associated with that area. We also weighed him... My 15-weeks-old German Shepherd is 37.6 pounds of puppy love. Woof!

I haven't noticed any of his teeth missing yet, but he should start losing them soon. In the meantime, my monster has been doing some cliche puppy things I could do without.

So far he's eaten 1.5 rolls of Cottonelle Clean Care toilet paper right off the dispenser.


And he thought eating and scratching the wall next to the electrical outlet would be a great snack.


I still love my little guy. He does me proud most of the time. Today he got into the car all by himself instead of putting his front paws up and waiting for further assistance. He conquered the couch a few weeks back too. His next big obstacle is stairs. The only ones we have are down to our basement (which you access through the garage), so he isn't around them to practice. Last weekend at my dad's house he went upstairs by himself, and then was stuck. It took him a few minutes, but with patience and encouragement he came down all by himself. When I go down to the basement at home, though, he just waits anxiously and lets out a few barks until I return. Those stairs are scary--I'll give him that. No light, and they're not even heights. So they suck for us humans, too!

New York City

I want to visit New York City, but not today's New York City. I want to visit NYC in the 1930s. When it was cool to play trumpets and saxophones, because you can hear the soul of the music through them. When telephone numbers had exchange names, like WEllington 3-1247. When TV would have dead air--on purpose. When people danced for fun, not because they are drunk. When people walked to school uphill both ways with no shoes in the snow. When people traveled by train, and decorated their luggage with stickers. When drug stores sold sundaes. When girls wore dresses and boys were suits. When roads were bumpy, not with blacktop patches, but with cobblestone (I don't know what roads were made out of in the 30s, but in my mind it's cobblestone).

Why New York? I don't know. Maybe city life in the 1930s was the same in all the big towns, but I feel like fast-paced New York is the right city to be in during this era. After all, it's where Lucille Ball was.