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super duper car
Nearly a whole year later we finally bought a new car for me. It’s very worth the wait. It’s the coolest car ever and of course it’s red, my favorite color. I never had a red car before. I wonder how many speeding tickets I’ll get.
It really is Toby’s car disguised as a new car for me. It’s a race car. It’s fast and has four wheel drive and turbo and tiptronic and a whole bunch of other stuff that sounds really speedy and important. I really wanted Toby to do a guest blog about it because there is no way I can put in words what is so cool about this car. As far as I’m concerned, it looks cool. It’s red and it has pretty tires.
It’s also super smart. It has a giant electronic brain that tells it when to turn on the windshield wipers, when to turn on the headlights, it even has a little screen in the dash that tells me what pedals to push just in case I turned into an idiot. It has all the fixings. I could go on and on but I’m afraid for all the other cars that will get jealous. Please don’t hate me because I have a super duper car.
I haven’t been driving (besides borrowing Toby’s van now and then) since a month before I had Baby Bug. It was just too hard to steer my old car with the enormous belly in the way. After Baby Bug, Toby got the heebie jeebies about his precious baby (and yes, his precious wife too) in my super low to the ground invisible silver Honda Civic that doesn’t have anti-lock breaks or power steering. It’s a great car. Just not so great as a mom car.
Well, now I’ve got the mom car on steroids. I wish I could get a vanity plate that said something like “BADASSMOM” or something with less letters that says: my car can kick your car’s butt. But that might be asking for trouble when I pull up to a light next to the other moms in their mighty SUV’s and soccer team holding minivans. I really can’t drive this car to it’s full capacity. I’m chicken. It is so fast it scares me. I barely pressed the gas pedal a millimeter and I was going 80 in a 40 zone before I even noticed. It’s dangerous. I think I’m going to have to play it cool.
But I can’t wait to show it off to my brother, the mechanic.
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I’m just a Hick from the Sticks
I apologize if you have a slow connection. I know I’m posting way too many pictures for one post… but the pictures say more than I can. There is something about being out in “the sticks” that will always be “home” to me. I can’t put my finger on it. I love living at the beach but sometimes I miss Hemet. Is it the dry desert air, the endless feeling of summer, my parent’s laid back sloppy style, the cars parked on the lawn, the smell of jasmine and oranges in the sun… maybe it’s the red neck in me but this will always feel like home. Maybe it’s true you can take the girl out of the trailer park but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.
Rapunzel and I picked all the lemons off my dad’s runt lemon tree. For only being about a two feet tall it sure produced a lot of lemons. I think it cross pollenated with another citrus nearby and that might be why the fruit looks a bit orange.
I’m officially on a lemonade kick right now. Rapunzel really really wanted to set up a lemonade stand but we just didn’t get it together. She made some excellent signs though.
We enjoyed the fruits of our labors and had lunch outside. I sat in the sun with baby bug and Rapunzel made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Now that’s service. Who needs to go to a spa when you can just go home and get waited on hand and foot?
After some serious R and R, we loaded up my mom’s car with all my laundry and headed back home to the beach. Yes, I do feel about a thousand percent better.
