And the Moral Is...?

A few weeks ago, while the spouse was hauling the children off to Ye Olde Family Homesteadde in Ohio, I went up to DC to visit friends.  (This was the occasion of multiple cars ON FIRE on 495.  AIEEE.)  In any event.  I had a lovely dinner with M and B and wee-Belle and drove over the river to stay at my sister's nearby apartment.  I had asked her if I needed a parking pass and (ominous foreshadowing) she told me no.  I hasten to add that there were no signs in the parking lot or lobby indicating the contrary.

Naturally, I woke up the next morning and the car was gone.

I called my sister.  She told me to go talk to the building manager.  I talked to the building manager about this red, ancient Honda I had borrowed.  He told me to call the towing company.  I called the towing company.  They told me that the car was somewhere nine miles away and all I had to do was present them with [ludicrous sum] in cash and proof that I was registered owner of the car, such as my driver's license.

<record screech>

I explained to them that, in fact, a colleague of my spouse had lent us her (piece of crap) car (with a variably-present fourth gear) and that the colleague was, as far as I knew, in Puerto Rico and I had no contact information for her.  I offered to describe the random contents of the back seat, which included half a bag of miniature chocolate chips, a large peeled onion, a pink zip-up fleece, and a road atlas with no cover. They cheerily suggested I have the owner go to the nearest American consulate and fax a notarized letter that gave me permission to retrieve the car.  I thanked them politely and hung up.

I briefly stood in the parking lot, in the freezing cold wind (my coat was in the car) and envisioned various strategies including calling Dr. S's boss and asking for colleague's phone number and.... or going back to Mountain U in a rented car and then driving back up with colleague once she returned... or possibly throwing myself into the river.

I talked to the building manager again.  He called the towing company and explained.  They called another towing company, which actually had the damn car.  The building manager explained to them.  "Okay!" he said cheerfully to me.

My sister arrived back in DC at this auspicious moment.  We drove out to Middle of Nowhere Towing, Inc.  I told the lady at the desk that the building manager had called... someone... about this ancient red car I had borrowed.  She asked "Are you the registered owner of the car?"

I took a deep breath and explained for the fifth time that NO.  For the love of god.  She was IN. Puerto.  RICO.

The lady said "Virginia state law prohibits releasing a car to anyone but the registered owner..."

...I took a deep breath...

"... but if you pay cash..."

My sister and I went to the ATM.  We returned with exact change, in cash, showed my driver's license (heaven forbid they should ever be audited?) and walked out to the car...

... where we dissolved into hysterical laughter, because the car isn't even red.

I think the moral of the story is that I'm never borrowing anyone else's car again EVER.

More Extremely Assorted Items

• Somehow, now that my child-swap/ Tatoe napping while Bug is at school are no longer in effect, I find myself unable to focus.  I wonder why THAT is.
• It keeps raining here.  I don't mean a drizzle, I mean torrential downpours. Do you know what around here is a) indoors and b) open on Sunday?  The hardware store and - you guessed it! - the Walmart.  
• It's a good thing I gave Dr. S such cynical advice about his postdoc advisor, about a year and a half ago.  Subject of advice: projects you take with you. Dear readers, you can extrapolate from there.
• He asks me some hilarious small-college questions sometimes.  (I went to Small College On A Hill, he went to Buckeye State.)  Like, "This student wants to jump ship from another lab and join my lab.  I should say no, right?  Whose lab?  Oh, the guy here who most wants to hire me long-term."  Not just no but hell no, dear.
• He also runs his job applications by me.  This always involves a bottle of wine and funny-looking diagrams, and my contribution is always "Blah blah blah, RNA, DNA, who cares?  Why do we care about this?  Where are the LASERS AND ROBOTS?"
• I'm never sure how good my advice is, but it always amounts to 'you need to sell this better'.
• I keep thinking about friendships with my mother's friends/old family friends in Next Town Over and negotiating boundaries and being mis-calibrated for Southerners, anymore.
• Speaking of which, I visited my old friend of the late-evening wedding, found to my surprise that I really like his new spouse a great deal, and therefore am willing to chalk it up to WeddingZilla Moments rather than a general loss of their wits.  It happens to the best of us.

Savage Love

Some weeks ago I was sitting at the co-op, ignoring my child and reading an old issue of the Onion.  I like to read Savage Love, because it's funny and well-written, and also because it uses a lot of words I  a) don't know; and b) am too embarrassed to look up. I hope if I keep reading it, one day I'll find out what they mean.

That particular edition brought me this gem, from the obituary of Dear Abby:

 Dear Abby: Two men who claim to be father and adopted son just bought an old mansion across the street and fixed it up. We notice a very suspicious mixture of company coming and going at all hours — blacks, whites, Orientals, women who look like men and men who look like women. This has always been considered one of the finest sections of San Francisco, and these weirdos are giving it a bad name. How can we improve the neighborhood? — Nob Hill Residents 

Dear Residents: You could move.

Holiday Gifts On A Budget

Why am I publishing this so far after everyone's favorite holidays?  Because these all take a lot of time to make and if you did them right before the holidays it wouldn't be cheap.  These are things I give family who make more money than us, i.e., everyone.

1) Vanilla or anise extract.

2) Photo books.  I got three for $50 including shipping this year (buy 1, get 2)

3) Framed photos.   Frames from the thrift-store-outlet, paint and mats from the craft store.  Family photo for FREE through a JCP promotion.

4) Soap.  It's easy to make but has to cure for a few months.

5) Fruit-shaped pincushions. I made my own patterns by drawing them freehand.

Any other fun suggestions?  Tell me what you make, because... I need different ones for next year.  (Except the photo books. Those never get old.)  

Fall

Dr. S: You look concerned.  Is something wrong?
Me: I'm considering apple logistics.
Dr. S: Apple orchards have apple logistics.  Farms have apple logistics.  I'm not sure we should have apple logistics.
Me: ... but I really like apple butter....

(There are some abandoned apple trees around here.  I forage.)

Yente

Belle and I have just set up two friends based solely on the fact that they both live in Farthest Frozen North. In the same city, even. I have never met Belle's friend, and Belle has never met mine. Nonetheless! Single people beware!

Jewish Mother, here I come.

(We did enquire first whether they were amenable.)

Er...

I had something to say, but I forgot it.

The house is coming along. One day, I will show you a picture.

I had our first guest over yesterday. She's someone I want to be friends with, but am not sure if we are. But we occasionally get together.

I miss my friends.

My spouse and I, I think, need to re-negotiate the parameters of our relationship. The power dynamic has changed now that I'm home. This isn't a bad thing, or anyone's fault, and we're not headed for a divorce lawyer or anything. Dr. S is very respectful of my needs and desires and whose name is on the paycheck has nothing to do with how we spend it. But, undeniably, it is different now.

Miscellaneous, Or, The Baby's Asleep

• Days of baby screaminess.
• Followed by sleepy cuteness all day today.
• Too much chocolate.
• Jittery.
• Waaaaaay too much chocolate.
• Feeling slightly oppressed by my (self-imposed) grocery budget.
• So much house-painting, so little time.
• So many EARWIGS, so little pesticide.
• My in-laws continue to suffer from a disconnect between desires and choices. For instance: if you deeply desire to see your grandson, do not choose to do six other entirely optional things during the time when you would, instead, be visiting.
• Sometimes they drive me CRAAAAAAZY.