Fix or Repair Daily

In a perfect world, I would not lose the paper in which I had written a bunch of notes on my thoughts about banning books. In this world, I lost that piece of paper AND the menu I planned for next month, complete with side dishes. I was completely irritated over this fact three hours ago and now I'm just chalking it up to another day. Instead, you get to hear about The Cable Guy's new truck.

The Cable Guy was recently promoted (because he's a rockstar studmuffin of a man!) and part of his new duties will have him be on call for a week at a time. He also is not able to park his new rig at our house because it is the same size as a small house. A tiny house. Of which I am obsessed. But that too is for another post.

So now that The Cable Guy is unable to just walk out of the door and jump into his work vehicle, he needed a way to get to work. And I needed a way to get home if I was at work on the weekend (his days home with Monkey).

Back story: in December, we traded in both of our Subaru's for a brand new Toyota Highlander. I don't just mean brand new to us, I mean still had new car smell and single digit miles on the speedometer new. I love this car. It is the last car I will ever buy until it dies a very long grueling painful death. It will fit one more car seat nicely and still have room for all the visiting relatives who come to play with our babies and ignore us (a condition I've come to accept but one The Cable Guy still struggles with. Silly only child). Since my beloved and I do not have days off together, on the days he was home with Monkey, I would get dropped off at work. Now that I could be stranded at work at a moment's notice while Monkey is in his grandparents care, we decided we needed a VERY cheap second vehicle.

My new mommy mobile, Lander the Highlander.

Enter the last thing I would have ever purchased for myself, a 2002 Ford F150. A Ford. And not a cool Ford, like when we owned a Mustang. Oh. No. A Ford truck. With a cassette player. And a smell. A smell that I couldn't describe. A smell that I still can't find words to describe but has lessened because The Cable Guy took some toxic odor killer stuff to the inside and now it smells like fresh sunshine.

The guys at work were positively drooling over it and I just shook my head, because as wonderful as I think I am, I will never understand the love a man has for a truck. I'd still be driving my little Saturn SL2 if it were up to me. Sigh. The one plus out of this is that if this vehicle lasts another fourteen years, I can tell you what Monkey is going to be driving. Now I need to go cry because my baby will be driving in fourteen years (motherhood is full of interrupting emotions).

Are you driving a vehicle you hate? What is it? What would be your dream car? (Mine's been the same since I was twelve, a Lamborghini. This still blows my husband's mind)

A Very Merry Real Birthday to You!

How are we already half way through November? Thanksgiving is right around the corner and Christmas is the next block over. Both of my boys have birthdays this month, first the Cable Guy and the next day is Monkey's. And so the age old question of what do you get the man who has everything comes around twice for me (after all, I'm in their life. What more do you need?).

The Cable Guy is actually the easier one this year, mainly because he can tell me what he wants. Ammo. For the love. I don't even know where to go for that. Do they have ammo stores? Does Amazon carry ammo? What kind of ammo does he need? There are different kinds right? He might as well have asked for a baby alpaca. In fact, that I would have an easier time with. Who doesn't want a baby alpaca?

Now the other one, Monkey, he's the tricky one. He can't tell me what he wants. No I take that back. He tells me exactly what he wants. Milk. Blankie. Poop. IPad. Me to sit down and hand him books until they have been sufficiently read. But what he doesn't tell me is what he'd like that will further his little life. So his dad and I have to come up with the newest addition. We only do one birthday present, so we make it a good one. Like baby alpaca status. 

Eating breakfast on his first birthday

I can't believe my high school sweetheart will be thirty-one and my tiny baby will be two. The crazy just keeps coming. 

What are your go to gifts for toddlers?

Wanted: A Book Without a Bite

The Cable Guy bought me a Kindle for Valentine's Day two years ago. I have finished maybe five books in that time, two of them were not mindless dribble. It's possible I only remember the plot to one. Considering I come from a family of avid readers and tend to read rather quickly (although Vanity Fair has taken me fooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrr and I'm still not finished), this is rather unusual for me.

If it has words and a title, I'll read it. Except poetry.  I don't do poetry. Or Shel Silverstein, which I guess is technically poetry. Or Hemingway. That's for a later post, one written after a glass or two or five of wine (that's the only way to do Hemingway). I don't believe in censorship or burning books or anything that limits a person's right to read whatever they want. In fact, if you tell me I shouldn't read something, it's most likely the next thing I have on my bedside table. Reading is also my biggest inspiration when it comes to writing. Often an article or even a blog post from someone else will spark something in me. It's definitely true about the recipes I make.

The thing is, I can't find anything worth reading. Every time I turn around, there's another vampire book or werewolf book or half vampire-half werewolf book. What's wrong with people?! Totally fleshy, living, breathing with a normal amount of hair people?! It's pretty hard to relate to a character that heals instantaneously when I'm still sporting a chicken pox scar from twenty years ago.

Now, I get the escapism aspect of fiction, I really do. My genres of choice are fantasy and science fiction (*Nerd Alert* There may or may not be a rather extensive collection of dragon paraphernalia in our garage, as well as a vast knowledge of Star Trek trivia in my head). You don't get any further from reality than that, yet the best writers still manage to create a world that has something the reader can identify with.

My biggest frustration is the absolute lack of strong female characters, which is only compounded by the overabundance of aloof uninterested males. I would rather a female lead forego a relationship than have to read another conversation featuring what appears to be a caveman. I also love love love when strength is portrayed as a man's inability to stop a woman from doing something incredibly stupid. Believe me, I'm as bullheaded as they come. Rarely do I give an inch when it comes to anything, but do I honestly believe The Cable Guy would just let me walk out a door to confront the coming apocalypse? Yeah, that's a big fat no.

So, I guess I'll stick with rereading the classics. Scarlett and Jo never disappoint. Or if anyone has a suggestion that doesn't include adolescent undead, I'm all ears.