Car Karma

"Varoooom! Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"  That's the sound my '96 Saturn has made every morning M-F for the past 6 years, since we bought it in '04.

"Varoo ~ pfft, pfft, pfft, puh :-( "  That's the sound it made this morning.




Try again?  "varoo? ~ pfft, pfft, pfft, puh :-( "

And again? "~ pfft, pfft, pfft, puh :-( "

Okay.  No problem.  Number 4 Son, recently returned from an early-abort Navy stint (entry level medical discharge, not disabling) is sleeping in his room (he works 2nd shift through Manpower making parts for the Toyota recall -- grateful to have found work in Michigan in this economy).

Wake up son, describe Saturn's sound, and he dresses military-muster speed and is in the driveway with a socket set before I've even got my coat off.

Diagnosis?  Blown head gasket.  Son seizes a "teaching moment" and explains to mom in exquisite detail exactly how he is going to repair this; and he cannot contain his delight, his utter delight, that something on Mom's car needs his attention.

Okay, so I still have to get to work.  But no problem!  Husband also works 2nd shift and he says I can take his truck for my 9-to-noon job.  (2001 Chevy S10)

Grab his keys and head out to the street behind us, where that vehicle is parked.  Unlock the door and loose the latch ...

"Salaaap!  Sproinnnnng!  Chunk."  The door FLIES full open, and a rather large spring ejects itself onto the road.

I pick up the spring, and try to close the door.  Nope, won't budge.  Door stands open.

Can you even believe this?  What must be the odds?

(Photo is the Saturn, and also Number 4 Son, taken last summer, on a better day for Car Karma.)

Random Thoughts

Well, it is Purim.  This is a fact I discovered on my Yahoo home page.  Purim is number 8 at the moment in Yahoo's category called "Trending Now."  Number 1 is Chile Earthquake.  Number 2 is Tsunami.  Purim is a Jewish festival, having to do with the Biblical book of Esther.  That is my first random thought.

The second random thought is that nowadays I have to watch my typing more than what I used to.  In days gone by, my fingers knew if they had made a typographical error.  Nowadays I have to use my eyes.  Why this is, I do not know.  I began to notice this new deficiency after Scooter died.  What the one has to do with the other, I cannot guess.

The third is that I have "1 Friend Online" ... and by that I mean on Multiply.  If I were to flip over to my MySpace page I would likely find a friend or two online there also.  And on Facebook it would not surprise me to find quite a few still online at this late hour (the time being 1:05 a.m. Eastern Standard).

Hmmm, I need a 4th Random Thought.  This is not randomly thought about - I am constantly aware of this fact - I do not communicate so very well verbally anymore.  I can often not think of a thing to say to anybody.  My random thoughts are so empty (if empty is, indeed, the proper word) that I am at a loss for much beyond hello.  This phenomena is also since my Scooter died.

Nevertheless: most people do not notice, because I have always been relatively quiet, socially.  And furthermore, I am a relatively high-functioning airhead.  At the moment my verbosity is being enhanced by 2 or 3 ounces of Mogen David Concord Wine (Kosher, alcohol 11% by volume ... oh my, I am such a lush!)  Said wine is intended to put me to sleep, and make me quit thinking about Scott's funeral bill. And yet the thing that I had to write myself a note about, so that I will not FORGET is to tell the funeral home (either voluntarily, or only if they call again ... depending on which thing I later decide would be most appropriate) that SOMEBODY killed Scott with a motor vehicle and that when the police figure out WHO, their auto insurance should pay Scott's final expenses.  (Did you know it costs over $4,000 to drive a hearse 50 miles to pick up a body and then deliver it to a donated grave?)  The funeral was supposed to be billed to Scott's estate.  I am not the executor of Scott's estate.  I was Scott's estranged adoptive mother at the time of his death.  And I am a compliant person.  The medical examiner told me I had to tell them what to do with Scott's body.  My pastor worked something out with a local funeral home.  Scott's ex-girlfriend was going to handle his estate.  She absconded or something.  Sigh.  If you want to know the truth, I was expecting a living prodigal son to come home and say, "Mom! I've missed you!"  Death was never my honest expectation.  Sigh.

Random thought 5: youngest son told me tonight to give $33 from him to church for his tithe this week.  So I went to mybank.com to transfer $33 from his account to mine, and dang if mybank didn't insist this time that I fill out their "enhanced security questions."

And that is something I have ALWAYS been incompetent at doing.  Online security questions always want to know your favorite this or that.  I have never, to my knowledge, had favorite this or thats!  So first I have to try to figure out what a reasonable answer would be, and then I have to worry forever that I will not remember what my answer was.  So of course I have to write down my answers.  And then, of course, I will need to remember where I put the list of answers.  For which if I were truly to act in character I would make a file entitled "Answers to Security Questions," which, of course, defeats the purpose of security questions.

And I feel inept, when really I am not inept in the slightest; yet I wonder if anybody else on earth finds answering simple security questions challenging.

I recall at a job once-upon-a-time, my boss wanted to hand out plastic bracelets to put your office key on.  She came to me, not telling me her true purpose, but only said, "Rani, what is your favorite color?"  (Holy crap!!!! I DON'T KNOW!)  "Favorite color for WHAT?" I said.

Back when security questions amounted to "What is your mother's maiden name," I was challenged even by that question.  My mother's father died when she was 3.  So she has gone by 2 last names, both of which I know about.  And I have answered that question 2 different ways over the years.

And as to what color was my first car (this year's security question number 2 of 3) well, it had an exotic name (which I can remember, even 30 years after the fact) and of course it has a generic color name.  I gave the generic color name as my reply to the bank's security question.  Will I be sure to remember that someday (say in 2525) when my bank doubts my true identity?  Probably not.  I will have to answer, "Uh, it is either 'exotic-name' or 'plain vanilla name.' "

The only security question I knew the definitive answer to was "In what year did you meet your significant other?"  At last! A question that requires knowledge of a FACT, not an opinion!  I KNEW the answer to that one!  (But then, so does everybody else who actually knows me, I think.  Well, hopefully, those who would wish to steal my airheaded identity are people who do NOT know me.)

I should probably rephrase the airheaded descriptor.  People do not generally consider me airheaded.  On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being airhead and 10 being geek, I am probably scored by those who know me as 11.

What I am, according to my husband, is, well, literal.  (Is that a fault?  I try to say what I mean, and I anticipate others doing so as well.  Except for when I am trying to tease somewhat, because people like to tease somewhat, and even I can do so once a month or so.  Well maybe it is only 4 times a year.  But hey! I can make people laugh with my wee jokes.  4 times a year, anyway.)

Random thought #6:  The Mogen David is working!  I think that I shall go to sleep if I try again now.

Random thought #7:  With only 2 friends online, it is not likely I will get much feedback from my random thoughts tonight.  Oh well.  It is Purim.  There's an awful lot of grace in Purim, even though Esther never mentions God.  Funny how that works, eh?  Oh, BTW, the photo attached to this blog is Scooter, in his teens.  When he was still my son.  He left home to go to his homecoming dance when he was a junior in high school, and never did come home until he died, at the age of 31.  Prodigals, beware.

More Humor From My Sister

Round Robin Email from my sister:

Spread the Stupidity

Only in America ........do drugstores make the sick walk all the way to the back of the store to get their prescriptions while healthy people can buy cigarettes at the front.

 

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Only in America.....do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a diet coke.

 

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Only in America.....do banks leave both doors open and then chain the pens to the counters.

 

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Only in America.....do we leave cars worth thousands of dollars in the driveway and put our useless junk in the garage.

 

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Only in America......do we buy hot dogs in packages of ten and buns in packages of eight.

 

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Only in America.....do they have drive-up ATM machines with Braille lettering.

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EVER WONDER ....

Why the sun lightens our hair, but darkens
Our skin?

 

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Why women can't put on mascara with their mouth closed?

 

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Why don't you ever see the headline 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?

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Why is 'abbreviated' such a long word?

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Why is it that doctors call what they do 'practice'?

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Why is lemon juice made with artificial flavor, and dish washing liquid made with real lemons?

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Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?

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Why is the time of day with the slowest traffic called rush hour?

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Why isn't there mouse-flavored cat food?

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Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes?

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Why do they sterilize the needle for lethal injections?

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You know that indestructible black box that is used on airplanes? Why don't they make the whole plane out of that stuff?!

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Why don't sheep shrink when it rains?

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Why are they called apartments when they are all stuck together?

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If con is the opposite of pro, is Congress the opposite of progress?

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If flying is so safe, why do they call the airport the terminal?

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Now that you've smiled at least once, it's your turn to spread the stupidity and send this to someone you want to bring a smile to (maybe even a chuckle)...in other words, send it to everyone. We all need to smile every once in a while.

Penpals are real people

I just read an essay here: http://blogs.northlandchurch.net/2008/11/19/perceived-connection-actual-isolation/

Okay, well I'll confess, I read part one.  I did not continue after that.  The writer's thesis seems to be that our online connections are not "real".  Writer tells a story of 2 people who go into a coffee shop, fire up their computers, and chat with each other, neither of them realizing they are both physically in the same coffee shop while they chat.

Okay, I guess that's funny.

But crimeny!  What's the big deal?  Let me give some "historical perspective" here.  I dig into genealogy.  I also like to read "old" books.  I know a bit about days gone by.  People WROTE LETTERS.

ALL THE TIME.

That is all we are doing, kids.  We are able to choose friends who don't live near us nowadays perhaps -- people we find interesting == people maybe who share our interests, or broaden our horizons.  We know they are real people!  We are NOT "isolated" (as the essay I read thinks we are) when we share ourselves with people through our CORRESPONDENCE.

Sheesh!  Just because we have a "new" word: Blogging ... or Chatting ... or IMing --

Dude, it is CORRESPONDENCE!  Humans have been communicating this way since before the printing press was even invented.

We just do it "in real time".  And I LIKE that.

Deviating only slightly from this theme -- my husband made an interesting comment today.  Talking about his sister when she first got married (20 years ago or so).  He said of her and her bridegroom, "They didn't have time to psychoanalyze.  They had a farm to run."

Okay, maybe that's deviating a lot from the theme.  I see I'd better tell you why this latter comment seems connected to the beginning of my blog here today.

I think sometimes people gripe too much about the wrong things.  And I think sometimes people "buy" the song-and-dance that we are all so isolated these days, sitting in our own little spaces, able to communicate with people almost everywhere.  DANG!  That just simply is NOT what I call "isolation".

My grandparents' grandparents were isolated.  If they moved across the country to settle the Michigan wilderness, they maybe NEVER got to communicate in real time with the folks they left behind them EVER AGAIN.

Shoot, my sister even chatted with her son when he was in the Navy ON A SUBMARINE!

Gotta love this century!  Quit psychoanalyzing! 

Now for your laugh of the day:  This is the link that first sent me to the website where I read the essay I have here blogged about.  I got this one in an email today, and it is HILARIOUS!


The Mom Song- LIVE from Northland Video on Vimeo.

http://blogs.northlandchurch.net/2008/08/11/the-mom-song/

It is called "The Mom Song"

Writer's Forum Find Your Muse #9 'Language Barrier'

"Lost in the Scenery"

Drat!  Now this is EXACTLY why I won't let myself imagine in color:  Because I ALWAYS get lost in the scenery if I do.  I have absolutely no sense of time.  I am "directionally challenged" in my home town.  So what am I gonna do now?  Just HAD TO gaze into that painting, didn't you, girl?

I'm in Rome.  I was in the Sistine Chapel with a tour group.  Why did I let Joyce talk me into coming on this tour?  I NEVER go on tours.  Joyce is so dang visual.  Joyce is so into experiences.  Joyce is so gregarious.  Yeah, and Joyce is off with the rest of the tour, because she can see things and remain connected to reality.  Not me, though.  Oh no.

In the sixties they started calling this phenomena "tripping out."  Mom and Dad just called it "day dreaming."  "Earth to Rani," is what my sister Vickie would say.  Yeah, well, earth (or the part of it I'm familiar with) just walked away and boarded the bus without me.  Yeah, I don't just get lost in the scenery in my imagination.  Oh no, I'm more lost than that.   I am a wall flower.  Absolutely forgettable.  I am so quiet, nobody notices me.

Yeah, they probably said "last call" or something.  But I was reading Michelangelo's mind.  I was living in his world.  So now how do I get back to my hotel before they all head back to America without me, for crying out loud?

"He is a foreign man.  He is surrounded by the sound, sound.  Angels in the architecture, spinning in infinity.  I said hey, hallelujah!"  Paul Simon.  I love Paul Simon.  What would Paul Simon do?  He travels all over creation, and he's a poet.  THINK, Rani!

I need to ask somebody how to get back there.  NO!  I need to beg somebody to GUIDE me back there.  Or I need a map.  In English.  Okay, now what am I going to do.  Think!  Think!

Hello ... does anyone here speak English?  No.  Well how about this one then, Parlez-vous Francais? 

Yeah, like that will help if somebody says, "Oui, je parle francais."

When I was foster-mom to Than and his English wasn't so good, I tried to remember my French, because he'd told me he'd learned French in school in VietNam.  But my schoolgirl French and his schoolboy French didn't sound the same, so THAT didn't work.  I had wanted to impress upon him some concept, and I just could not find the English words he knew to do it. 

Oh!  I remember!  Finally I found something along those lines in my Bible, and then copied the same chapter and verse out of HIS Vietnamese Bible.  I don't remember if that worked, though. 

But what the heck!

Bibles, Bibles, this is a CHAPEL for crying out loud.  Do they have any Bibles here in Italian?  More importantly than that, is there ANY dang verse in the Bible that says, "I am from America and I am lost.  I do not even remember the name of my hotel, let alone the street it is on."  Obviously THAT is not in the Bible.  So pointing to a verse in an Italian Bible and using that to express myself is NOT going to help me out of this situation.

Yeah, well, quit thinking about that.

Universal language.  Music is the universal language.  Yeah, but not all songs are universal.  What songs do I know in English that your average Roman is going to know in Italian?  Think!  Think!

Pavarotti is the only Italian singer I know.  No, wait, Placido Domingo.  And he sang a few in English: "Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm ..."  SHELTER!  Where is my shelter in this foreign land?  And WHY isn't my group coming back in search of me?

"Stop and stare.  I think I'm moving but I go nowhere ..."  Now WHY am I hearing that song by One Republic in my head?

No, wait!  That isn't a song in my head.  That is the ring tone on my cell phone!  Cell phone!  Answer it!

My son!  Back at home in the USA!  Hi, honey; how ya doin'? ... Oh, ... Well did you look in the study?  Yeah, under Dad's desk, in that little drawer thing.  Say, listen, do you have your computer fired up?  ... Good.  Listen, honey, could you do a Google Earth for me?  ... Yeah.  See if you can find the Sistine Chapel in Rome.  ... Okay, I'll wait.  ... You've got it?  Great!  Now could you look on my desk next to the calendar for the copy of the itinerary of this tour I'm on and see what the name of my hotel is supposed to be? ... You found it?  Great!  ... No, I don't need to know the name of it.  Just do a Google map for me of the directions from the Sistine Chapel to that hotel, and then STAY on the phone and talk me back there. ... Yeah, I know.  Just help me, okay?  STOP laughing and start Googling.  Thank you!

Fiction by Rani Kaye - All Rights Reserved

Just for Grins - A Problem-Solving Flowchart

Quondam Quote du Jour

My dad says:

"You have to be smarter than the machine, Rani Kaye"

For Lise's Dare

Okay, here you go, Lise:

 

 

Here's the link to see why I posted this:  Mona's Dare

More quotes from Mom & Dad

Mom's reply when I asked her how she gets Dad to do things he obviously doesn't really want to do:

"Well he LOVES me, Rani."

Dad's reply when I asked HIM how Mom gets him to do things he doesn't really want to do:

"Oh, she just talks about it and talks about it until I think it's my idea."

My mom used to say ...

"If you don't bother to vote, then you aren't allowed to gripe."

Girls, you better take a look at his one, somebody's on to us

Link

Stole, er um borrowed from Anne, who stole, er um borrowed from Phil

I've got a jar of dirt -- Johnny Depp remix I snagged

Snagged this from someone in my multiply network. Hilarious!

Kath's Cat

Shared an apartment with Kath right after high school.  Wasn't the last time I roomed with her, actually ... eventually we went off to college & shared a space there, too ... and over the years her love of cats finally rubbed off on me.

However, in 1970 I'd never had the pleasure of knowing a cat before, and Kathy's cat took a particular disliking to me, because I expected cats to RESPOND to my wishes ... such as, "Cats do NOT belong sitting on the open toilet seat."

I was forever chasing the cat out of the loo (as you Brits say).  Kitty eventually got so she could hear me coming home, and would get down while my key was still in the apartment door lock, so that by the time I reached the kitchen (the loo was off the kitchen ... isn't THAT gross!), Kitty would be sauntering out the bathroom doorway, yawning at me all innocent-like.

Kitty KNEW what time I got off work (I got home sooner than Kath).  HOWEVER!

One day, I came home unexpectedly for lunch, and evidently I startled Kitty cuz as I reached the kitchen, I heard,

SPA-LASH, ME-YOW-OW-OW-OW!

and out of the bathroom came a streak of wet cat, lifting dripping paws in disgust with every step. 

I must say, I laughed my you-know-what off! 

  Sorry, Kitty. 

Watching for Squirrels

I'll tell you more about the squirrels. The guy who posed for yesterday's Picture Perfect post isn't the only squirrel who lives in my back yard. There's a little chipmunk-looking fellow, too, who's been here for a couple-three years ... and now he's got a runty little mate. I will have to try to get their pictures some time. Those two are TINY little squirrels, but they don't get bigger as the years go by, so I've realized they ARE NOT babies.

 

Anyway, squirrels live here for two reasons:

 

1. To eat, throw, tear apart, bury in the garden, and make a general mess with walnuts.

 

2. To taunt my cocker spaniel.

 

"SQUIRREL !!!!!" cries my son.

 

Dog HUUURLS self against sliding glass door.

 

"Woof ,woof, woof, woof, big-bad-I'm-a-fierce-dog woof !!!!"

 

Squirrel sticks out tongue.

 

Squirrel comes up on porch and looks in sliding glass door.

 

Dog HUUURLS self against sliding glass door.

 

"Woof ,woof, woof, woof, big-bad-I'm-a-fierce-dog woof !!!!"

 

Squirrel munches walnut. Sticks out tongue at dog.

 

Sometimes, just for kicks, a couple squirrels tag-team-torment my dog.

 

Once, my husband actually let her out to chase them. The squirrels simply climbed the fence (same fence as in the Picture Perfect post from yesterday), stuck out their tongues, flipped their tails, and trotted up to the neighbor's garage roof, then sailed down the street from tree branch to tree branch.

 

The dog thought she was TRULY big-and-bad. Kicked some squirrel butt, did she. Serious squirrel butt-kicking. Mess with me, will ya?

 

I've got other squirrel stories. Maybe I'll write them another day.

'I've got pictures of you, in funny poses ... '

 

Computer Humor

Funniest blog quote from yesterday:

"... Its 256 MB of RAM and crapload of crapware from HP are making the updates painfully slow ... "

Here's the link to the blog:

http://www.bbspot.com/Log/?module=Log&function=browse&id=844

Currently listening : Itzhak Perlman's Greatest Hits By Fryderyk Chopin Release date: By 17 February, 1998

Happy Hour in Michigan

Dang! It's winter. I do not personally enjoy drinking beer OR playing cards ... but I still think this picture is hilarious! (I received it by round-robin e-mail several years ago so sorry, I don't know who made the picture.)