In early August a friend of mine asked me if I would be willing to help raise money for African refugees at the school. The kids said they didn’t think we could raise $1,000.00 but the teachers disagreed. They asked for teachers to do wacky and crazy things, and I agreed to shave my head and beard. I actually promised I would not shave or cut my hair until the day of the shaving. I didn’t know it would be at the winter pep assembly 3 1/2 months later! In August I convinced students, teachers, colleagues, and friends to donate over $2100.00!! I came in first place and had to fess us. I had not shaved my head since 4th grade and looked like an idiot then, but after not cutting my hair and beard for 3 months, I was ready for anything. Check out the video!

Thirty-three years ago the snow fell around my parents as my father rushed my mother to the hospital when she was in labor. He got lost along the way, but they eventually made it. Late that evening I was sliced from her gut and yanked by my bald head from her womb. Yes, it’s my birthday.

Today was actually a nice day. Very balanced and fun. The kids were very kind, got me some nice cards, and enjoyed celebrating. I pondered where I’d ask Donna to take me to dinner almost all day, and I finally settled on California Pizza Kitchen at the mall. Unfortunately Claire got me a birthday present; she bit her friend at school. Although this is serious, it was sort of funny that Lisa dragged her over to my class so Claire could tell me herself. My class was taking a quiz and got to experience that whole thing.

Donna bought me a few bottle of wine for my birthday. One is something I’ve never seen called Seven Daughters and the other is a Riesling I always drink. I chuckled and pulled the two bottle of wine I bought today at Target out of my bad. They were the same! This is why I married her. Because she can read my mind.

Thank you everyone who wished me the best today. Hugs.

Devon and I have known that we would be buying a new car this year since realizing that the Chevy’s registration was due in September.  We’ve researched cars all summer, investigated the physical specs on vehicles that piqued our interest, received pre-approval on a loan, and called the babysitter.  That means we’ve approached the dreaded day – going to the dealer.  Now this concept is not fun under any circumstances, but it is even more unfortunate when compounded with 110 degree heat. 
So, we arrive at Big Two Toyota and are greeted by "Griffin" as we exit our car.  Please note that I feel that the name "Griffin" deserves to be showcased in quotation marks…
Devon and I are guided to a bright blue, used Rav4, which I recognize from my online research.  I check it against my notes and indeed it is the first truck on the list.  We get the keys, check it out, take it for a spin – OK, two spins, Devon drives it over the curb toward the showroom, I freak out, we park, go inside, talk numbers for two hours, wait one and half hours for the finance people, sign tons of papers, clean out the Chevy, and leave in our new truck – six hours later.

In 1999 when I signed my first contract we drove straight to the car dealership with no idea of how to buy a car. After several hours we walked out with a 1996 Chevy Cavalier. We were charged too much, but we liked our little car and it did well for us. Last year Donna and I began to take Claire to daycare in our 4Runner that was originally "Donna’s new truck". She always bugged me good-naturedly about "stealing" her truck when I began to drive Claire to daycare in the truck.

We got to a point where the car didn’t like to go as much, and it’s needed a bit of work here and there this last year. Don’t get me wrong, it still zoomed zoomed. But it was time. We spent a day this summer looking at Toyotas, but we knew the whole day we weren’t quite ready. Financially we pretty much set up, but we just didn’t know what we wanted. We knew we wanted another Toyota. I was partial to another 4Runner or maybe a Matrix, but then Donna set her sights on a Rav4. We’d seen them before, but we weren’t sure about the size.

Yesterday we called our credit union, got our financing squared away, and called our babysitter. We also researched on-line, and Donna wrote down several Rav4s while I looked at 4Runners (she had already vetoed Matrixes, as she wanted a truck.)

The first car was at a new Toyota dealership that I drive passed every single day on my way to work. So we decided to begin there. By 10AM we were at the dealership. We got out of the car as the dealer walked up. We told him our price range and that we were looking primarily at RAV4s. He walked us over to a 2003 Nordic blue 4Runner, and when he ran to get the key Donna realized it was the first car she’d seen the day before. We drove the car up and down the freeway, and Donna was really embarrassed when I drove up over the curb to see how it handled the bumps. I think it took a full 10 minutes before we were pretty sure we were buying the first one we saw, and another few minutes to be ok with buying the first one we saw.

Yes, about 15 minutes. Ok, so I don’t actually know where the rest of our day went. I know about 2.5 hours went into haggling with our dealer (haggling that I couldn’t even wrap my mind around), then another hour went to waiting for the finance guy (even though we were pre-approved.) Then we worked with the guy while they detailed Donna’s new truck.

When we got our Cavalier, I know we got screwed on the money, and when we bought our 4Runner, I think we got a helluva deal. This time I felt like we all compromised and did well. I just don’t know when Chandler, AZ was moved into the Bermuda Triangle. Seven hours and several thousand dollars, we stopped at Chipotle and headed home to rescue the babysitter.

When I was younger my grandmother had a clock. I don’t think it really matters where it came from, but I think they bought it at a stand up at the lake or she got it for a present. I don’t know. I remember being younger and sleeping over her house. The basement was ours. We’d play down there and sleep down there, and the cousins would congregate down there. She lived by my parent’s then, and I’d walk over there or bike over there all the time. I’d sit in the kitchen with Grandpap and listen to the shortwave police radio and eat Grandma’s homemade soup. My uncle lived there then and he brought home a pool table. We’d play in the basement and roughhouse. One afternoon we were being kids and I don’t remember how it happened, but that giant wooden clock cut from the center of a tree fell off the wall and cracked onto the floor. I knew what it meant to my grandparent’s and began to cry – more for them than for myself. Grandma rushed downstairs and kept telling us that it was allright, and I kept crying. As she rushed me upstairs I couldn’t stop crying and she swatted my rearend something fierce. I was immediately shocked into silence. And I tell you this because my grandmother never disciplined us in anyway ever. It was my dad’s job, not hers. But that one time stuck out in my mind.

Now Grandpap is dead and Grandma’s house is sold. She leaves this week for her new life in Florida where she will live with my uncle and his family. My dad and mum packed up her house and took home stuff, threw stuff out, and loaded the moving truck. It won’t hit me until Christmas when I go home, but Grandma is gone. I wish I lived closer because there was a lot she just gave away, but I’m not there. I chose to move away years ago. But Donna was there. Briefly. She and Claire visited one last time in June when they were in town.

And as I packed to leave for the airport this morning, a huge box arrived on the doorstep. I brought it in with Donna and began to tear it open. At first she couldn’t remember what it was, but the she cackled and clapped. She knew, and after she poured out the peanuts, I knew too. There was that damn clock in the huge, flat box! In all it’s shalqured glory! With it’s glued-back-on wooden arm that smashed off on that floor twenty years ago. It has followed me 2,000 miles like an albatross around my neck, so I can never really ever forget the love of family and living with them all so close years ago for so long in Pittsburgh.

As I’ve said earlier, my grandmother is selling the house that she’s been living in for 20 years. Grandpap died in October, and she’s lonely. She decided to join her daughter, son, and their families in Florida. Why not? My parents can afford to visit whenever they want, but the other siblings really can’t. So she’s going to move in with my uncle who has just found a 5 bedroom house for them all.  I’ve not been home since Christmas, and I really don’t think I will be back in Pittsburgh until next Christmas now, and today I realized I will never ever see that house again. I remember when I was a teenager moving them into that house, and how crazy it was that it looked like their house when I was really little. There are just so many memories there in that house, and it’s odd that I’ll never be there again. So many memories… maybe that’s why she’s leaving. It’s so lonely there now without him.

So she just put the house on the market, even though I really thought it would take a little longer, but she has two offers already. I can’t believe it. It feels too soon, but I suppose that’s what best for her.

Y’all know Grandpap died in October, and it was a nice time to see family, but it sucked that he died. But hey, now he’s not suffering anymore. Now my grandparents have three children and their daughter moved to Florida over a decade ago. They’ve gone to visit her from time to time, and my Uncle (my dad’s youngest sibling) has recently chosen to move his family to Florida for job opportunities and the weather. I’ve always been close to my grandmother and she begged me not to forget her after Grandpap died. I call her weekly, and even as soon as the funeral we were all wondering when she was going to move to Florida. She has spent so much time living month after month at my uncle’s house, and then they even spent the winter in Florida. But I remember the children sitting around the smoking room at the funeral home wondering when she’s realize Florida is where she needs to be (I feel like a friggin’ Clampitt here).

Grandma turned 81 yesterday, and she’s been bored. I call and she’s been hanging out around her house. For her in Pittsburgh, the only family she still sees regularly are my parents who can afford to fly to Florida anytime to see her. Everyone else is in Florida (or out West in Arizona and California). So today I was chatting with her and she’d just cleaned all her windows and her bedroom (not "our" bedroom, "my" bedroom), and she told me she was getting ready. I asked "ready for what".

And she said it. "I’m selling the house and moving to Florida. It’s lonely here."

I smiled and shook my head and agreed. Yes, thank you. Yes, we know. We knew, and now you know, but you needed to know on your own time, not ours. So I told her without sounding too eager that I thought it was a good idea and we’d be down to visit. My only question now is, who is making my babalki on Christmas Eve?!

Ah life, or what becomes of us once paranoia, assumptions, anxiety, children, work, and others enter the equation…

Earlier this month we received a vehicle registration renewal notice.  I tried to renew and pay online, but was told that an emissions test was needed.  I was extremely annoyed because this is an incredibly busy month (for Devon and me) and I knew that the car had a good chance of not passing emissions.  Somehow Devon managed to squeeze it in and we did, indeed, fail.

Mixed between weekend activities, work meetings, evening events, switching schedules to make sure someone is watching Claire, preparing agendas, eating, breathing, and the like, Devon and I arrange to take the car to our local car repair guru.  Now, please note that this involved pleading with many wonderful co-workers to pick me up and take me to work, drive me to meetings, and even watching Claire for a few hours!

The car needed to stay overnight at the repair shop and was fixed for a very reasonable price.  (The environment thanks us).  Devon was able to switch vehicles on Friday to re-test the car for emissions.  It passed!

Later that night, I logged on to the servicearizona.com website to process the registration.  Strangely, I received the same error as before about needing the emissions test.  I assumed the system had not refreshed recently and decided to try again in the morning.

Did I mention that I had found a large slash in our left front tire the day we took the car to the repair shop?  I was scared to drive on it, but did not want to invest in a new tire if the car didn’t pass emissions…  So, the  plan was for Claire and I to go to Discount Tires Saturday morning since Devon was working.  Not wanting to wait forever with a two-year-old, I contacted the store and made an appointment at 10:30 am.  Having more time before we needed to leave the house, I logged back online to process the registration.  It still said "emissions test needed".  Now I’m frustrated.  I call the phone number on the form.

After speaking with the woman who had the misfortune to answer, questioning why their system couldn’t identify our car, I was put on hold.  I needed to move around, so I went outside to get the mail.  For some reason right then part of our conversation had registered.  The woman had asked me the plate number listed on the renewal form.  I gave her the information earlier without really thinking about it, but now, wait, Devon had child abuse prevention plates on the car.  Something was off.  The number I gave the woman was the license plate number of our truck!

This couldn’t be!

Could it?

Still outside, I crouch behind the car and review the plate.  SEP 07.
..  sniff

What?

I look again.

SEP 07

We were trying to renew the wrong car!

I run back inside to review the paperwork.  The woman gets back from hold and starts to apologize for their system, offering suggestions such as faxing the paperwork to her office, going to the emission place and having them fix it.  At this point I’m too embarassed to say we messed up.  I thank her for her kindness, hang up and text Devon:  "We are idiots.  The truck is due for emissions, not the car.  Need you to switch cars and fix problem".

Now I’m late for the tire appointment.

I grab everything related to anything and get Claire in the car.  We get tires, text Devon a few more times, and make arrangements to meet for lunch, errands, and "the switch".

By the end of the day, the truck passes emissions and is renewed online, the car has new tires, the bellies are full, and the heads are aching.

My mother began a habit of coming to see Claire for her birthday last year, and this year she mentioned coming again. Then we realized Claire’s birthday this year is Easter, and I’m glad it came up since she’ll have to deal with it from time to time during her life. Grandpap (mine, not hers) died this year, so my Mum didn’t want to be away for Easter so she came this weekend.

It’s a nice laid back trip. Friday the two of them spent the morning together and then I joined them after work. We all went out Friday night, and my Mum got to meet several of my friends. Saturday we hit the garage sales all morning, and bought several things including a new frame for our bed. Our wooden frame split last month and we’ve had our mattresses on the floor. It doesn’t matter to me, but Donna wants her storage space back. I kind of like sleeping on the floor; it remind me of when I had a futon in college. But yesterday we needed a frame and a neighbor wanted to get rid of his. I almost bet he’d have paid me $5 to take it, instead of the other way around!

Last night Liliane came over and played with Claire, but when it was time to go to sleep, they wouldn’t. They both cried and it was like howling dogs baying in the moonlight. Neither wanted to go to sleep since the other was still around. Eventually everyone fell asleep and we watched Happy Feet. Now this movie…. ugh. What can I say? Um, it was NOTHING like we expected! We really didn’t even like it, and I could barely stay awake for it. It was way too political, racist, and sexist. I felt like I was watching a mutated Inconvenient Truth.

Today is my mother’s 55th birthday. April Fool’s Day. We decided to go to the Renaissance Fair. We’ve been twice before and have never taken Claire. A student of mine works there, so we went to see her. We never did find her, but Claire had a ton of fun. She has been learning all sorts of new words like "mountain" and "camel", and other than the heat, she has fun. We tried to have her go on the butterfly ride, but she freaked out. Parents could not fit on the ride, but she wouldn’t go on it alone. We ate Steak or a Stake, Turkey Legs, corn on the cob, and other yummy things and Claire (and Mimi) enjoyed themselves.

Since Devon mentioned it, I thought that I would elaborate…

Over the holidays, Devon and I watching an ESPN online gaming tournament.  It consisted of three games:  Bejeweled, Solitaire, and Zuma.  We watched as a young, female college student beat the competition to remain in the first seat and win a million dollars.  Again, a million dollars.  For playing online games.  Devon and I were amazed.  And jealous.

When we returned to Phoenix, we decided to download Bejeweled.  In the past week, I’ve put in many hours of play.  I’m on about the 67th board of the Endless game – which I started playing because I thought it would actually have an end.  I have almost made it through all the Puzzle boards, unless the final destination is just a porthole to another dimension of puzzles.  (I hope not).  I have not tried Action games, because the thought of being timed to play a game is not appealing.  And Classic games are OK – mostly appealing because I have a higher High Score than Devon!  Haha.

This is also why I make a habit of not downloading or playing games online.  They are obsessive and time-consuming.  Plus, my laptop burns my thighs.