Only To True

Can't live with them...

I ate lunch today with my coworker, Sandy, who recently returned from vacation in Arizona. She travels with her sister; both of their homebody hubbies are left to fend for themselves.

Sandy told us that during her absence, Don, her husband of 40+ years, had gone through a box of old family pictures, picked out his favorites, framed them and placed them all over her kitchen. Sandy wasn’t really impressed with Don’s decorations, in fact, she was a rather annoyed by one in particular: her mother-in-law as a four-year-old.

Sandy exclaimed: “I didn’t like her when she was 90 and alive, and I don’t want to be living with a picture of her as a toddler now that she’s dead!”

Oops

The other day, I was driving home from work and noticed that a car had swerved through a turn and ended up on top of a huge snow bank. On the side of the car was a huge sign reading:

Cars

I don’t particularly like cars. I don’t like knowing anything about how they work. I’m not crazy about having to fill their huge, ravenous bellies with nasty, polluting (but mostly expensive) gas. I don’t like the responsibility of having to change the oil every 3,000 miles or three months, whatever comes first. I don’t like warring about every new little noise or vibration and wondering when the machine will just stop working or blow up or something.

This being said, I do appreciate being able to drive to work on a -40 degree day. Or not having to carry bags of clothes, groceries, etc. around by bike or by buss. I like being about to go places and see things whenever I want.

But I still don’t like having to learn how they work just to take care of them. I don’t know how on earth my CD player, coffee maker, curling iron, or DVD/VCR player work. We are all able to live in peace and harmony and happiness. They don’t require me to perform mysterious rituals for them to be at peak performance. If one of these machines does decide to stop working, fine. I replace it. Easy. Not a big deal.

But a car? You must take care of it or a car will give up. You can’t have the handy “if it’s not broke, don’t fix it” policy. You must all kinds of different types of liquids into different pipes and holes. You must put oil into the engine if the dipstick dictates it. You need to put windshield wiper fluid into the proper container. And coolant. Coolant is what inspires this tirade.

You see, the “low coolant” light began lighting up about a week ago. I wanted to ignore it like I do the “change oil soon” light, which keeps coming on because I haven’t found the button that you are supposed to push every time you change the oil. So as long as I remember the date and mileage I’m ok, even thought the light says differently.

I have bad memories from my childhood that involve “low coolant” lights and “very hot” engine meters. Bad, bad memories. Melted engine. Smoking car. Mad Dad. Sad Mom. Very much in-trouble me.

So I pull out the owner’s manual and begin reading about coolant. I discovered that I needed a very specific brand of coolant. I needed to mix this specific brand with water and then pour it into the coolant container, carefully, so as not to spill any on the engine (I’m not sure why you can’t spill any…the book didn’t say, and I can’t think of any good reasons for the non-spillage warning. It’s not corrosive, is it?). If the level of coolant is too low, you need to put some of the mixture into the radiator, to keep the engine from overheating while the coolant works its way through the car’s system. Then, you need to keep an eye on the coolant container, because the level of coolant in a car when the engine is hot is dramatically different than the level of coolant in a cold engine.

With this wealth of coolant information in my head, I went to the nearest gas station to buy some. I put a confident smile on my face, used purposeful steps to walk through the door. Why this front, you ask? Well, let me tell you. It’s because gas stations intimidate me, at least they do when I need more than gas and a Coke. It seems like everyone in the station knows more than I do about cars, politics and the pursuit of clean vehicles, so when I need a special brand of coolant and a funnel, it’s very intimidating. I feel like I need to put on a front to keep “them” from seeing how insecure I am with my vehicle supplies purchasing decisions.

So I walk in, and a very smart looking (for a mechanical minded youth) asked me if I need help. My first instinct was to cry. My second was to say, “No, no, I’m fine. Where’s your bathroom?” The option I went with was a combo of the first two. I sadly asked him where the coolant was. He asked me what kind I needed. I told him. He asked what kind of car I had. I told him. He looked impressed. I think he thought I actually knew something about cars. He then proceeded to explain to me something about engines and why in ND in the winter it was better to use less water in your coolant but thankfully, he stopped before he really got going. He probably noticed my eyes glaze over. I think he was disappointed that he hadn’t found a kindred soul in me.

Then, I heard the most beautiful words in the world come from his mouth: ”Pull your car up to the front and I’ll put it in for you.”

God bless mechanics.

let go and LET GOD

I went to a retreat this past weekend. It was LOVELY!!! I am always amazed by how sometimes you don’t even realize that you need something until God gives it to you. Thank goodness that He knows what’s up!

I said that I would go on this retreat on an impulse. I have been so busy lately with work that I haven’t had a weekend to myself since before Christmas, so I was REALLY looking forward to being able to get caught up on stuff like laundry and dishes and grocery shopping. I was actually dreading being gone for two whole days and then working bright and early Monday.

But for some reason, I didn’t back out. Even though I didn’t really know anyone who was going that well, and was tired and breaking out in pimples, I didn’t call to cancel. Maybe I didn’t because I was too lazy to pick up the phone, but I think I just resisted because I didn’t want to seem unable to keep a commitment.

Boy, oh boy, I did not want to go. It was storming out; I was tired from working an extra long day. I had pimples all over my face and hardly any clean clothes. I didn’t even have time to pull cash out of the bank. But I showed up, pimples and all, in one of my least favorite sweaters, feeling like a wreck and looking, I’m sure, like hammered s#!t.

But oh, what a wonderful weekend I had. It seemed the focus of the retreat was directed right at me. The talks were all centered on trusting God and letting him take control. I met some kindred spirits and hopefully made some friends.

God is good.

Happy St. Valentines Day!

Friday, Day 2

I'll see if I can do this day in one post. :)

After sleeping in, Therese and I awoke to help Maureen get ready for a wedding she was attending with the new man in her life... she looked spectacular.

And a rather groggy duo (Therese and I) headed out to find coffee and some nice duds, as both of us packed a little light on the dressy clothes.

We then got decked out and went out to eat with Maureen's family at a quaint little Italian restaurant, la Bacchanalia. The food was AWESOME!!! I looked it up online when I got home and the reviews all agreed that the food was great, authentic Italian. And from what I gather, it is hard to get good reviews if you are a restaurant in Chicago.

After dinner, Tom showed Therese and I his SWEET condo, and then we went to an Irish pub that had live Irish music playing. We spent the rest of the evening just chilin' and drinking different Irish beers, except Therese, who drank screwdrivers, because she had a cold and she thought the orange juice would help her sore throat. (I don't think her plan was anywhere near successful, as the bartender made the drink backwards, vodka with a splash of OJ).

In all, it was a wonderful day, but we were all excited for the next day: NEW YEARS EVE!!!




I am almost positive that this restaurant was just down a building or two from where we ate. But even if it wasn't, that's what the area looked like, except with fluffy snowflakes falling softly everywhere. I LOVE CHICAGO!

Day One: part b

Maureen picked me up from the airport with a car full of nieces and nephews. After dropping them off we hurried to her home for a nephew’s birthday party, or at least what I thought was a birthday party. It turned out to be a different sort of party: THERESE!!! She wasn’t planning on arriving until the next day, so when she decided to come up Thursday night, she and Maureen decided to surprise me… and I was shocked! Almost speechless, if you can believe that.

We went to an Irish pub for dinner and beer. It was a cute bar, and we laughed, and talked and cried. Well, Maureen didn’t cry, but I cried enough for both of us, imagine that!

It was so wonderful to see the girls. I missed them so much! I miss the Ave fellowship and the common ground we all had… oh, it makes me so sad to think those days are over! And we all live so far apart.

Well, after that we went back to Maureen’s, only to go out again later that evening when her high school friends called to let her know they were in town and hanging out. We came back tired and happy, looking forward to the days ahead.

Yawn!

Sorry for the lack of posts. Work has been CRAZY this past week and a half. Don’t despair, I will return! In the mean time, I have an assignment for you:

Use this word at least once a day for a week. People will think you are a genius!
in·de·fat·i·ga·ble
Incapable or seemingly incapable of being fatigued; tireless.

Now, I will take my very NOT indefatigable self back to work. Yawn!