My husband is once again between vehicles. Let me explain:
Brandon is a mechanic...I mean auto technician. Just saying this makes me giggle. You see my husband is from Rochester. For those of you not familiar with Rochester and Saranac Lake, try comparing New York City with the smallest town you know. When Bran and I first met I knew he was in the automotive industry but I didn't know exactly what part he played. I asked if he was a mechanic. I got a funny look and the difference between a mechanic and auto tech were quickly explained to me in great detail. Hey, where I come from it's mechanic.
Brandon has had countless used cars since we met over 6 years ago. All nice looking, all incredibly cheap...we're talking under $500...and all needing some sort of mechanical work. Could be something as small as a brake job or something as major as needing the engine rebuilt. He seems to prefer the ones that need more work. In fact, engine and transmission trouble seem to be some sort of aphrodisiac for my husband. He tells me about the new love he's found with a twinkle in his eye. We have a standing rule in the house that there are to be no more than 2 vehicles on the insurance at any given time. This means he can buy new vehicles until the cows come home as long as the current one he's driving is out of the driveway before the new one comes home. So far he's made out quite well. He puts a bunch of time into the new vehicle and gets it running like a top, then he sells it...always making at least enough to buy the new one (that's one of the other rules about this little game of his) and normally a nice little profit to boot. I had a hard time understanding this at first. Then I compared it to my knitting. As soon as something is finished I start a new project. Used cars that need work are my husbands knitting. New yarn, needles and projects are my aphrodisiac. See how that works? Since I'm home, I've been elected (somehow without running for this office) "Chief of Running to DMV". Our DMV has limited hours so it can sometimes be days before I make it there to register his new fling.
Anyways...seems how I had to go get him for lunch today I decided I'd pick him up and we'd go to Burger King. The baby loves frozen Coke. Especially when it comes in different colors. So I buckle the baby in her seat about 10 minutes before noon and we head off to get a frozen Coke...I mean her daddy. Don't think for a minute she's at all excited about getting her daddy. She's all about the frozen Coke. It takes almost 10 minutes to get from his job to the frozen Coke at Burger King. When you're 2 that's an eternity...when you're the mother of the 2 year old who desperately wants the frozen Coke it's even longer. Finally peace is restored to the back of the van and we're on our way out to the lake to have lunch. It's beautiful today. Low 70's, nice breeze...perfect weather to have the sunroof open and the windows rolled down right? Not. All of a sudden Brandon's head jerks like he's been shot and he screams. What's the matter? What's happened? A bee has flung itself through the open window at my husbands head in some sort of suicide bombing attempt and instead of dyeing according to planned it has only managed to stun itself momentarily, land in the Burger King bag and get angry. What does one do when an angry bee is sitting in a bag between ones legs? Why quickly roll the bag closed and demand that your wife stop the van immediately so you can set it free of course. Now as I just said, Saranac Lake isn't a big place. We have a population of about 5000 and that probably includes the summer people with camps on the lakes. But that doesn't mean that there isn't lots of traffic at 12:20 in the afternoon. The bee is buzzing...LOUDLY...in the bag. I pull off a side road and Brandon hops out of the van. I see him bend over and set the bag on the ground. He makes several quick passes and pokes at the bag in an attempt to free the bee. He finally gets the bag open and jumps back about 2 feet. NOTHING He lurches forward and pokes the bag. NOTHING He inches closer, growing more confident that the bee must have flown out while he wasn't looking. He gets a few inches from the bag and pokes it again. BEE!!! HUGE ANGRY BEE!!! Brandon turns to run, does a partial trip and narrowly escapes being hit in the head by the bee once again. I'm allergic to bees. If that had happened to me while I was alone I would have thrown the entire bag out the window and waited for my husband to come clean it up off the side of the road. But Brandon isn't allergic to bees. And normally he doesn't even flinch if one buzzes by him. But it didn't happen to me, it happened to him. So I laughed. Uncontrollably. While sitting in the van right off the side of the busiest road in town with lots of traffic passing as my husband pokes at our lunch. I'm laughing again now.
How about a picture of a bag I made over the summer? It's the felted entrelec bag from the Knitter's Dozen book. It was so much fun to work. This one was for Sue to display in her store.
And proof of hurricane Dailaesse. The orange mess from one end of the living room to the other is an entire bag of her favorite chips. She wanted to share with the puppy. And even though the puppy is just a little Shih-Tzu, her head is still too big to fit in the bag. See the logic? She was just sharing. I had to praise her. Then, see the dishcloth in her hand? She's trying to clean up after herself. I've forgotten already which mess (ok, I fib, I do remember...I used the dishcloth to wipe up the ice cream that fell off her spoon and onto the table. Dixie, the puppy, is too good to eat the ice cream that Dailaesse no longer wants from the little plastic cup it comes in...she had to feed it to her on a silver spoon.)I cleaned up with the dishcloth but I rinsed it and brought it back out to the table in case there were more. God bless her little heart is all I can say. How can you be upset about that? I told her she was such a big helper and a good girl for working so hard at cleaning up her mess. I'm now on my way to move the furniture and vacuum the bag of chips up from under the couches because if you can no longer see the mess then it is clean and no longer exists. She is one of the 3 most caring, likeable, lovable smartest children in the world but...I knew I should have waited until after bedtime to post. :-)
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