Car Talk

Really it's more like car whine. Paul have been having transport issues to begin with, since we have been sharing my 2000 Taurus. His film shoots require location scouts, lots of food, prop, and equipment runs, and flexible scheduling; all of which leaves me feeling a little stranded at times when I want to run errands or meet friends. Then he called to say the car was unwell, and he was taking it in. The friendly guys at our Ford dealership estimates $4300 to install a new engine. But it might not need a whole new engine, it might just be a cylinder. For $500 (labor only), they can check and see, but then, if the news is bad and it is the engine, it will still cost be $4300 on top of that. I'm not sure what happens if the news is good, but I think our relationship with this particular car has soured in any case--we're feeling done with American cars for awhile. I dream of a cute Honda Accord, maybe a little Toyota Tercel from the 90's. Everyone says they just won't die.

I went to Sarasota last weekend to visit my parents before they head up north, which was very pleasant. I rented a car to drive up, though, and the arrangements were a little more complicated than I had anticipated. Dollar Rent-a-Car is by far the cheapest deal in town, but when it comes to service, you get what you pay for:

May 19, 2006

Dear Dollar Man,

I recently reserved a standard size car (Dodge Stratus or similar) from your fine institution. Because I was running a little behind my 9pm pick-up time, I called the number that was listed on my reservation form as being the contact number for the airport location where I was picking up to let them know. When I called I was told not to worry, that I had a two-hour grace period. I arrived shortly after that, less than an hour after my pick-up time, before 10 pm. However when I arrived, I was told that because I was late the only car available was a minivan!

“Will a minivan be alright tonight ma’am?”
I thought, Um, no, I really have no desire to drive 300 miles in a monstrous car that seats nine and gets like six miles to the gallon. “Do you have anything else?”
"Well I’m giving away someone else’s car…"
Apparently that wasn’t a problem with mine.
"But we do have a Pacifica."
I looked at the picture of the Pacifica. It’s a mini-van, only with the front-end shaped like an SUV. “I don’t understand, I just called you, and you told me you had a car.”
“That was the other location.”
Of course, because why would my confirmation list the number of the location where my car was? “Well maybe I could go to the other location,” I ventured.
“They’re closed.”
“What time do they close?”
“8pm”
Is it even worth it to ask why they picked up the phone at 9:15? “Can I take this and trade it in for a sedan on my way out of town tomorrow?”
“Sure, I’ll make a note here.”

I went out to the lot with my key ring indicating that my vehicle was in spot number 32, but when I arrived, I found a different vehicle occupied the spot. I eventually found mine across the lot in spot number 20. Nice. I got in and turned the key. Someone had left the radio turned up full volume. Extra-nice.

This morning, I thought it would be wisest to confirm that there was a car ready to trade with mine before driving to the location, so once again I called. That was twenty minutes ago. I am still on hold. I have written this entire letter with one hand, while holding the other the receiver to my ear with the other.
All the while I’ve been listening to your recorded advertisements. What’s the tagline? “If only all service could be this convenient and prompt.”
Yeah. If only.

Your customer,

B

Friends in Mind

So there's something I have been thinking about a lot lately, (including the night I posted last, but I didn't really want to juxtapose it with my ruminations on the death because thankfully these are quite different situations!) are my friends and family who have been battling day to day with various forms of illness. I know how this can change everything, how you have to be stronger and more perserverent just to do the normal things and how sometimes it just takes it out of you, physically and emotionally...Here's my mental shout out to my friend Jeff, (Reiter's syndrome), my sis, Moira (still recovering from a detached retina), brother-in-law Tom, (mystery malady...and those can be the worst!), my dad (recovering from his colon surgery) and my friend Rosie (breast cancer, started chemo last week). I've been thinking of you, praying for you.

The new school term started today...that was fast! I am taking one class this term, Victorian Lit, and it meets Monday and Wednesday nights, so that will start tomorrow. Today I started my summer "teaching" gig, which is fifteen hours a week tutoring in the reading/writing center. I was happy to get this assignment because, although it is more scheduled hours (teaching is only five in class hours a week), there are no papers to grade--woo hoo! Today was scheduling for the students who are taking set hours of tutoring each week (we also take walk-ins). It was a little worrisome as there seem to be more students than slots. Also, the published hours for the center did not change from the normal school year, 9-5 Monday through Friday, but right now we only have enough people to stay open 9-3 Monday through Thursday. Right at 3 o' clock, as Nikki and I were preparing to leave, three people showed up, planning to sign up for slots after 3pm, or on Fridays. Hopefully they will hire on another person and sort it out somehow, or we are going to have a very busy six weeks!

I am looking forward to this weekend, when the local Shambala center is sponsoring a weekend meditation training retreat. Actually it's just Friday night and Saturday, which is probably enough for my attention span, as I have been slack in my meditation practice as of late. I'll let you know how it goes!

P.S. If you are observant, you might notice this post contains my first attempt at a link! Pictures are perhaps only weeks away!

things I am not tonight

For the past few days I've been dragging myself over coals on a couple of short stories like they meant everything. Not that they mean nothing. But at the same time I had my little scare...because when you are like me, everything is a little scare...constipation, a cold, an ache, an odd looking sore. So when these things clear up, it is also a little relief. Which is not accurate, the "little" part I mean, it is always a relief. Which is a gift. Because otherwise I might forget, and think that what I'm writing or doing means more than what it does. These things do mean something, of course, whether a story is good or bad in the end, it is how I spent those hours, how I invested my thoughts and emotions. But it's not everything. It's not nothing either, just something. it's an odd thing, perspective.

So having met my last deadline of many today I came home and didn't know exactly what to do with myself. I just lay one our couch/futon and then I kept lying there. It was pretty great.

Tonight we went out for dinner (Vietnamese) and came home and watched the first half Angels in America while I folded the laundry Paul did earlier today (I waited him out, and he broke...ha! I hope nobody buys him underwear for christmas). It is a really amazing production, if you're not familiar with it. It's about the gay community in New York in the 80s, about AIDS, about religion and politics and probably a few other things. But to me it's mostly about facing death. And here's the thought I have when I watch a movie like this:

I am not dying.

Specifically, underneath that, I think, "I do not have cancer", which is a little hypocritical because I am a huge proponent of the idea that one does not have to die of cancer, but there it is--in my mind I still link my greatest chance of dying with having cancer. Only after I think about it do I alter the words to, "I am not sick." Before that, I think that other thing.

And here is the other sacriligious word I add to the phrase:

Tonight.

As I watch the image on screen of a man who is alone, and slowly dying, I think that when the movie ends, and the image on the screen is gone. I can walk upstairs and my husband will be sleeping on the bed. He is there and healthy, I am here and healthy. I am not alone tonight. I am not dying tonight. And I am grateful for that.

But gratitude and faith are only distant cousins, and I do not forget how fast it can all change, how one cold can turn into one blood test that can change all the definitions without changing any of the reality. So on the day before a test I can say, I am not, tonight, but it might not be true, because the next day after results come in, my entire reaction to the man on the screen would be different. Yes, i would say to him, I am sick too. We belong to the same club, we are going the same place.

I think, I hope, I would still be grateful, as each day I am grateful now, for this life.

Which is something.