Drama

So, I mentioned my "new" car, right? Well it's been in the shop since Monday afternoon.

The a/c had been doing funny things--like not working all of the time--and then Sunday afternoon the Service Engine Light came on. I called Bell Honda, where I got it, and was basically told that I was SOL and that I would have to take care of all of it--and that it probably wasn't a big deal anyway (I'm not kidding). I took the truck to a Nissan dealership, since they know the vehicles and I didn't want anything to do with Bell Honda any more than I had to.

Very VERY long story short, the A/C had been overcharged with freon, which was causing it to cut out from time to time. The Knock Sensor and O2 Sensors had gone bad, the latter as a result of a crack in the exhaust manifold. Total estimated charges: about $1500.

At the recommendation of both the service manager at Pinnacle Nissan (the good guys), and a salesman at Scottsdale Volkswagon (Russell also bought a new car on Monday!), I called Bell Honda again and spoke to the Used Car Sales Manager. Supposedly he is working with his Service Manager to see what they can do to take care of the Sensors (the Exhaust Manifold is covered under the warranty I bought--but of course that part costs less than 1/3 of the total estimate, AND has a $100 deductible).

Still waiting to hear back from the folks at Bell Honda. I leave for work in an hour and then won't get to do much--if anything--about it until tomorrow when I get off work at about 1pm. Needless to say I'm rather frustrated and more than slightly bummed to be shelling out big bucks for my 2 week old (to me, anyway) car--ON MY BIRTHDAY.

*sigh*

Looming

My 35th birthday. It's just around the corner. Less than a week away. It was hip and fashionable to be 31 and 32. 33 and 34 were a little depressing, and 35 is just going to beat me upside the head and leave me bleeding in a ditch on the outskirts of madness.

I don't *feel* old, and I certainly like to think I don't *look* old. Generally speaking I don't *act* old (except that I have to go to bed around 8-9pm on account of having to be at work at 6am lately). So how come a number can assign that attribute to me?

I started taking a Glucosamine/Chondroitin supplement a couple of weeks ago, at the suggestion of a co-worker who had listened to me complain about the soreness in my hands and knees. It has helped wonders, but everytime I take it I think "old....old..." I was also pleased to see the reduction of fine lines in my face when I used some sampling of anti-wrinkle cream that mom had recieved from Lancome. I have wrinkles! I have wrinkle cream! What's the world coming to???

At least I have a sporty yellow Xterra and the ablility to wear my hair in pigtails. I listen to relatively cool music and my best friend at work is 23 years old. That's gotta count for something!

Kerfluffle

it's just a word I've had on my brain for about 5 days now. not sure why.

So the deal with the last post--in abridged form--was that there was a woman at the shoe store talking, VERY CALMLY, to her signifigant other about some sort of major "no I don't want a divorce, but..." issue. The entire time I was there, she strolled around on the phone, casually trying on shoes and telling this person that she couldn't believe he'd lie about this and blahblahblah. I couldn't decide if she was my hero for being so calm and together about it, or if she was a total nutcase for the very same reason.

But the computer choked, and here we are.

Here's what I know:

1) I am SERIOUSLY missing my best friend Kimbra, who will be having a baby in a couple of months. I feel horrible that I am not there for her right now, and for the first time in my life I am fascinated with babies. (No mom, I don't want one of my own...I'm just paying more attention to them now.)

2) I bought a new car last week! I went out "just to look" and ended up getting suckered into driving and listening to the spiel on a 2000 Nissan Xterra. If you know me at all, you know that I've *always* wanted an Xterra. If you know Russell the least little bit, you know that his jousting colours are Black and Gold. So there sat a Yellow and Black Xterra, and they gave me a smokin' deal, in addition to $2000 for my faithful but sad little truck. I now have AC, a CD/cassette stereo, a moonroof, a backseat that I can haul relatives around in, should they grace us with their presence again, and automatic doorlocks--a luxury I cannot get used to.

3) My feet hurt today.

4) Bucket has the weakest stomach of any creature on the planet, evidenced by his throwing up not once but three times before Russell left for work the other day-- and once (or twice) more in the crate waiting for me when I got home.

5) There is always more to say than I can recall sitting here at the keyboard.

Heroin or Heroine? You be the judge...

**a multitude of expletives escape me at this point**

I just spent a good portion of time writing about a funny thing that happened to me today, and when I tried to post Blogger told me, in no uncertain terms, to push off.

I'm pissed, cos it was a good story and now I don't have time to re-write it. Maybe I'll come back to it sometime when I'm not worried about my makeup and hair.

(date night tonight)

poing!

I have said it before and I will say it again: If nothing in the world about blogging appeals to you, you have never read Dooce. Please please please check it out.

That said, I would like you to know about my afternoon of Poo Patrol here at Casa Hoefs-Benson. It has become an exercise in danger and futility. The back yard has become a field (albeit tiny) of pampas grass or, as I now like to call it, pompous grass--due to the way it just sort of sneeringly waves at me as I walk around scouting for poo. "Ha Ha! We grow stonger and longer and there is nothing you can do.ah.ah.ah."
Our lawnmower has ceased to function, likely a result of being left outside during the multitude of winter rainshowers. I've cleaned the filters, checked the fuel and oil, and changed the sparkplug to no avail. My dad recommended checking to see if there is indeed even a spark to plug, but my arms aren't long enough to pull the rope *and* hold the sparkplug up to the metal surface of the mower. Long story short, I haven't mowed since about 3 weeks after we moved in. It's amazing how long the grass has gotten really. The dogs don't like to poop in certain areas because the grass is so long. It tickles their butts, and no one wants that. When they do poo in the long grass it is impossible to see, so that when I do finally get the mower working (or we break down and buy or borrow another one), I will be treading on a veritable graveyard of crunchy-white dog doo.

Anyway. That's my dog doo tale. How was your day?