my engine is idling at the starting line



test driving new to me vehicles should be fun...

i am fast finding out that it isn't... 

so not helpful when the used car lot i went to had several of the vehicles i wanted to try out and they were sure i wanted to buy each one…

ford fiesta…

honda crv…

toyota prius… 

i was moved away from the Chevrolet Sonic with a "that's going to cost you about $8000 more" - but maybe that's only because i drove the ford fiesta the wrong way down a one way street and tried to return it to a different car lot – both times with a salesman in the passenger seat? 


nah.... that's not it...  

it really is okay though, because the sonic was not a pretty red hatchback – it was boring black with a trunk.  unless maybe it came with a neat Men In Black Forgetallaboutit Flash Stick?  

must go back and check…

after the 3rd test drive they told me i was starting my own "has to be re-detailed" car pile… 

um... 

suck it up boys.  I don’t get paid to test drive…  



and my nice little jeep is worth more than you said it was...


i really think they didn’t expect this nice little old lady to leave without a purchase

or a new to me try it over night vehicle...

even after telling me someone just called and wanted to look at the one i just brought back and if they buy it... 

refer back to my description of self two lines ago - specifically the word "old" and read it as; been there. heard that. too MANY times to believe it's true...

sure, it could be true but you know what?  if a car sells before i decide i want it, it wasn't mine to begin with… (because that's how the universe rolls)

i haven't tried them all yet and i needed a car to make me fall out of love with the one i already have and that didn't happen... 

and since when is NO not an acceptable answer?

what to do.

what to do.

i think i shall rest my little Flintstone feet and continue test driving another day...

starting with that sonic...


ready the checkered flag!




divinity in ice

it's been cold here in my little corner of the mitten state...

VERRRY cold.

But today while the sun was shining - just to tease me into thinking Spring was near - it glittered off of an odd formation of ice the snow made as it melted off the metal guard
on the chimney next door...

I would guess that if I were catholic I might think it a patron saint, or the mother Mary herself...


but;

because I am not, I will just say it's Jesus looking over my back yard thinking;  wow, eolist, what a mess!

what do you think?  should I call the press?




he's ba-aaaaaack!!!!



“Good morning Miss.” The waiter said waving carafe of coffee under my nose.

I sat up in bed rubbed the crusty varmits from my all too thin lashes and held out my coffee mug.
As he poured I realized he was using the orange carafe with the cheerful white daisies on it…

I cringed and shivered.  

It’s never the orange carafe unless something is afoot with one of my comrades in crime - or both...

I’d have tucked back in and pulled the covers over my head but the coffee smelled so delightful that I convinced myself I was simply being silly…

And then the waiter pulled a shining silver tray of my favorite pastries from his front left pocket and placed it on my night stand with a sunshiny yellow napkin...    

Damn it.  I knew I was right!  Today was going to be filled with a lot more than coffee..

“Would Miss like anything else this morning?”  he said with an all too cheerful side eyed smile.

I barfed a sigh, held my hand out palm up and wiggled 'come here and give it too' me fingers.  “Let me have the paper man, I know it’s up your sleeve.”

“No Miss” he said; smiling that sort of smile you smile when you are ‘technically’ telling the ‘truth’ but you know very well it is a lie.  “I assure you it is not up my sleeve.”  

And the ‘game’ ensued; “pant leg?”  

The waiter’s left eye narrowed and twitched.  Even though he knew he was not going to win he made the next move anyway; “not up my pant leg either Miss.”

It never ceased to amaze me, the vast array – and size – of items the waiter could pull from inside his pockets and sleeves and pant legs and hats and hair and – okay let’s not go anywhere near crevices…  “Back pocket, right side, behind the bowling ball.”

He merely chuckled; “the bowling ball is in my left back pocket today Miss.”  

“Damn!” I held my mug out for more coffee.  “Inner breast pocket tucked into the physics book you are never going to read?”

“Nope” he said, but his lip twitched in a way that told me I was getting warmer.”

“Trouser watch pocket underneath the only napkin that was salvaged from the Euthanasia Curry House after the balloon incident.”

“Maybe…. but what’s on top of that?” the waiter smugly replied.

“The last piece of belly button lint on which Dr. T said he could hear a Who!”  I said triumphantly…


And then I realized something I didn’t need any headline in the morning paper to tell me and a nearly dropped my coffee mug.   Thankfully I held steady… I am so not fond of coffee intermixed with hints of wrinkled sheet…

“Get Indigo Roth on the phone STAT!”

“Already done Miss” he said, pulling my cell phone from under the single button on his cummerbund. 
With it he handed me the morning paper.  Just in case my petite ‘spidey’ senses were wrong.

Sure enough… there it was, big and bold, in next week’s headline:

                DR MAXIMILLION TUNGUSKA IS BACK! 
                     WITH A VERY SMALL AMOUNT OF MS. PETITE'S MOJO…..

http://www.thetunguskaevent.blogspot.com/