Live from Lynchburg!

On this date in 1988 my guinea pig died. He was three. I know this is a compelling moment in history, but bear with me. The only reason I remember the date is that it was my best friends birthday and I got home from her party to find my dear, dear, G.P. dead as a doornail. A tragic event. Currently I am at my grandparent's house in Lynchburg, VA--I haven't been down here in over a year but it has been nice. My grandfather and I get along very well; we just kind of understand one another. I've had the chance to talk to him for several hours--I feel like he thinks its going to be our last conversation, a notion that depresses me on one hand but gives me peace in knowing that we have had the opportunity to really get to know one another. He and my father are very close--thing is, he is my mother's father, and being that my mother and father don't exactly get along (understatement of the year) my grandfather and father rarely get to see each other. But oh do they care deeply for the other--my grandfather said, "You know, I love him like my own son. I don't like to hug other men, but I love to hug your father; I wish he was my son." That breaks my heart!
By the way, my father and I fixed Roy the Raging Tempo the other day. Turns out it wasn't the alternator but the power steering belt, so we went and picked up a new one at Antetiam Automotive and spent the afternoon working on it--one of us under the car, one above it, both cursing and cutting ourselves. Theory is, a job isn't done until a Spooner bleeds, and boy is that ever true. We can't even write christmas cards without some sort of injury. But the car works for now, can't say it will work tomorrow but lets hope so because I have to drive home from my sister's house. Still no plans for new years--spend it with the boys possibly, possibly with Josh (!), maybe simply with family. Break has been just what I needed--free time to read, sleep and play, friends to be "bored" with, family to talk with, a white christmas--a simply summation of quality time. I'm in the middle of "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers; it's a phenominal book, highly recommend it. Anyway, think I'll go read more of it.

I'll be (Towed) Home for Christmas, Round II

Christmas eve! A cold and gray day with little to do but wrap last minute gifts and prepare the goodies. Josh called me around noon and asked if I would like to go play frisbee golf with him and his friend and, while proclaiming my inability to throw a frisbee, I accepted the invitation. I met them in Shepherdstown, an absolutely delightful town that is a bizarre mix of dirty old hippies, college students, civil war buffs and DC tourists. I was nervous; I had not seen him in two years. We had a ball! I lived up to my earlier proclimation, but I only landed in the creek once and got par on two holes. The flurries that had started earlier began to increase in intensity, so we ended our game and headed back into town to grab a cup of coffee before heading home. Of course it being christmas eve every place with the inclination to even own a coffeemaker was shut up tight, so we settled for birch beers at Ed's Tap Room (where Josh used to work). I began the hour or so drive home and about six miles outside of Shepherdstown my car made a funny noise (not an event) then the battery light came on and the power steering promptly went off. ugh. Realizing it was something with my alternator I decided to try to make it as close to home as I could get before it totally drained my battery or failed completely. I am not fully ignorant when it comes to car-ish type things; I am a true renissance woman. Or not. Anyway, I got to a stopsign about three miles from my house and my headlights went out and my wipers were getting sluggish. My time was a-tickin'. Finally, a half-mile from my house, my god-forsaken, sorry excuse for a functioning automobile finally cut off entirely. I called my father, who brought the truck down, tied my car up and towed me home in the snow. God bless Virginia. So I got home safely, after being towed there! I guess we'll look at it again in the morning. Don't know if it's worth fixing, but it's Christmas and I don't want to think about it!
Right now my brother is in the kitchen baking sugar cookies, my father and his girlfriend are finishing up last minute wrapping and Emmylou Harris' christmas album, the only one I actually like, is singing out the stereo. It's snowing, the fire is bright, the pets are dozing by it, I am home safely and I am filled with a full understanding why it really is the most wonderful time of the year.

Blame the Bills

Okokok, so I haven't posted recently. There's a logical reason I swear: I lost my fingers. Well that doesn't work? Crap, I thought it was almost foolproof. Ok, it's because my father's computer likes to freeze up more than the Bills do in Super Bowls. Anyway, I have been writing posts on my laptop, and I just transferred 'em to disk and so here they are! Enjoy, happy break, good luck to a certain someone who has D-day today. Thoughts are with ya!

December 22nd, 2002

I am so happy to be home. I woke up today with the sound of the front door opening, "Oh dear Lord no one is supposed to be here!" was my first thought, until I realized where I was--"Wait a sec, there isn't a ceiling fan in my room in Syracuse..." it was not a bad confusion to wake up to. Old friends Cindy, Paul and Seth came over (I have known Cindy since the first day of kindergarten and Seth since 5th grade...) and we went out to play pool at a bar about 20 minutes away. We were laughing in the car, because we sounded like the start of a joke. "An art major, a finance major, a spanish major and an environmentalist were riding in the car...." We all absolutely stink at pool, but the conversation was fun, the games were pretty equal (turned into the redheads vs. the blondies) and the friendship valuable. It was just fun. We harassed a car full of high school students on the way home--oh what we do for fun around here. My cell phone rang at 2am, which means one of two things--disaster or alcohol. it was the second; Josh wanted me to go boating with him this morning but I had other things to do. That will prove to be a conundrum this break. Anyway, back to enjoying my time of doing as little as possible!

December 21st 2002

Oh thank the lord today is over. Seriously. Last night Caroline and I went out for a healthy dinner that consisted of lots and lots of water, caesar salads, spinich artichoke dip and an apple dessert. Ok, not that healthy, but better than the "pizza-beer-wings that didn't necessarily stay down long enough to be digested" of last night. Ugh. But I was a packing fiend, hangover or no hangover and I was ready to leave at 9am today. But Caroline and I agreed to meet for breakfast, and that didn't happen till 10-ish, so I didn't get onto I-81 south till almost 11am. Why do I do everything with Caroline? She's my best friend, we just do, ok? No it doesn't get boring, we have enough random crisis in our lives to make every conversation at least a bit interesting.
Now my car is the infamous Roy the Raging Tempo, a 1986 white Ford that likes to stop working when he feels like it, which is about as often as Oasis band breakups. I was a little nervous, to say the least. So outside of Marathon, NY I am crusing at 70, crankin' the tunes and settling in for the almost 7hr drive when suddenly, Roy stops drinkin' his gas....I am in the fast lane. This is not good. But I get over and get off the highway before he completely shuts off. Well blast. Zoot. I think "fuel pump" but I just got a new one. I think "ignition switch" which seems possible, or timing belt, or fuses, or clogged fuel line, or, or or...ARRG! Before long AAA arives (bless their little towtruck hearts), a nice old man stops to ask if I need help, as does a state trooper--all these nice men and not a single one of 'em attractive--this day just gets better! (kidding boys, I'm not THAT shallow). I ask to get it towed back to Syracuse, while my plans are unfolding in a random pattern of questions and answers--so how do I get home now? Who is in town to pick me up? How much will this cost me? Did I pack my toothpaste? I call those I know in town and who are programmed into my phone and secure a ride (JoAnne RULES!) and on the way north the towtruck ("Jack" will fit in later--he's tow dude) needs gas so we stop in Courtland. While there Jack says, "let me see your keys, I want to check it out." Now in Virginia if a towtruck driver says this to you, it means "I'm gonna junk it for the spareparts on my new NASCAR replica" so say no, but in NY, take a chance. He pops my hood, fiddles around with a wire (or "warr" as it is in VA) says, "AhHa!" and starts my car. On the platform of the picktruck. Now I'm wishing Jack was hot so I could kiss him in happiness, but the feeling passes. So he says, "I'll tow it back to my place, really secure that wire and get you on the road!" So we drive back south to where he is, which is somewhere between Ithaca and nowhere. On the way he explains that it was the ignition coil wire (of course!) and that it was just loose. Back at Jack's Body Shop in Lawd Knows Where, NY he takes out a pair of vice grips (I have my own pair in the trunk) pinches the end of the wire, puts it back in, tugs at it, decides it's in well, then charages me $20 bucks for that. Wow. I'm going into the wrong profession. So I pay him and I'm walking back out to my now-running Roy when the foot of ice or so on his driveway gets the best of me, and I fly up in the air and bust up my knee kinda bad. Then I drove for another 5 1/2 hours and couldn't straighten it, so it's bruised and stiff. I'm a sally I know. So yeah, made it back to the highway, less than 5 miles from where I had broken down, 2 hours before. Needless to say I didn't get home till later, I'm beat but happy to be here. Back in VA again! My car gets an oil change as a reward for getting me here without another visit from Jack or his kin. 8 hours of pretty much I-81. I think we need to spend some time apart.