Sunday, March 29, 2009

Dear Charlie:

Well, the first week of new-car-ownership has come and gone, and I'm still in love with the new wheels. I happened to be down in Dad's neck of the woods this weekend, so he rode back home with me and took the ol' Taurus home with him, so the new baby is officially mine.

It's kinda scary, actually. Heh.

Still trying to name it, though. Its personality hasn't yet asserted itself enough for a name, but it's hard to talk to your car without a name. Just not right.

But I'm working on it.

Anyway, I was down to the ol' stomping grounds this weekend because poor Kristi is just about to explode with her latest set of twins. Of course, evil wretch that she is, she doesn't look pregnant anywhere but her belly. If you caught a glance at her from behind, you'd never know. It's downright unnatural, I tell you.

She doesn't look nearly as miserable and ready to just get them out already as I know she is. Bless her heart.

But she's going to the doctor tomorrow to see when they can set her up for inducement if she doesn't hit real labor. She's hoping for this week, since she'll be 37 weeks along as of Wednesday, and that's definitely considered full-term for twins. Oi.

You know, it's kinda funny what your mind remembers and what it doesn't. When I was a kid, I used to know every backroad and every old gravel track in the area. I was raised in a small town -- actually, outside of the small town; we usually lived about 10 miles outside the "city" limits -- and there was nothing but country two-lanes and gravel roads for miles. I used to know them all.

But I sometimes have dreams that I'm trying to find my way down those winding, branching country roads and just...can't. I'm lost. Things look familiar, but then I'm not where I'm supposed to be, and I have no way of knowing how to get back. I take one wrong turn, then another, then another, and I can't remember which was the original wrong turn to get back on track. It's like being in a maze, but there's no cheese smell to lead you to the end.

And every time I head that way, I wonder if, on the way to Dad's, I'll get lost. I mean, there really aren't that many turns to Dad's house, but there are just so many ways to get there. I can take this highway or that road or this gravel track. I know all these ways, and I know where each turnoff leads, but still, there's that unease. That "what if I get lost?" paranoia.

I never do. But I always wonder.

Weird, huh? How much power your dreams can have over you.

But I made it there and back again with nary a wrong turn, and I love...LOVE...getting out of town. I don't live in a booming metropolis, by any stretch, but at 50,000 residents and nearly 150,000 folks going to work every day, the big-town-small-city I live in does make my hometown look like a popsicle stand. And sometimes, it's just nice to get out into the boonies and...I dunno...breathe.

Or drive. Heh.

I was gonna go down (actually up, as the hometown is north of here, but sometimes direction is a state of mind) Saturday, but we were supposed to get this freak winter-weather storm in this area. Some stations predicted 8 inches of snow. Others predicted an inch of ice followed by 5 inches of snow. To be honest, with our luck in these parts, I figured the latter was more likely. We've been getting more ice each year, it seems.

And if every bit of snow that fell Saturday had stuck, we might well have gotten that 8 inches in addition to about an inch of sleet that fell earlier in the day. I mean, it rained/sleeted/snowed all friggin' day Saturday.

But less than an inch of snow actually stuck, and it was already mostly melted off by 8:00 this morning. Weird, huh? Luckily, it didn't impede my plans to invade the hometown in the least.

And a good thing, too. This may be the last time I get to see my poor friend without 4 kids instead of 2! Good grief!

Cross your fingers for her? I know I am. Bless her heart.


At 12:28 PM, Blogger writtenwyrdd said...

When I was a kid, I named everything Charlie. Might work for you, lol.

I always refer to my cars as Bessie for some reason. Or the rustbucket, which, given that the last two were Saturns and either stainless or plastic, is a bit strange. Also begging for lightning to strike!

At 7:54 PM, Anonymous Pesh said...


The Badmobile.


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