So Brainiac has this new GPS thing. I wasn't exactly what you'd call supportive of the purchase but instead of arguing or getting all logicky with him ("But, honey, we don't actually go new places" or "But, honey, our own home can't even be found with the device so how much utility could it actually have?") I decided to just keep my mouth shut and let the poor man follow his geosynchronous bliss.
Shows what great ideas I have.
There is now a little black box perched on my car's dash. The kids have named the little black box Mrs. Ashi (yes, the box gets an honorific. me? I am almost always referred to as "she") and I am NOT allowed to speak over her clipped guidance. In case it's not clear, let me spell it out: Mrs. Ashi is allowed to speak her piece while I am routinely talked over and argued with. And! The Boy knows enough about maps and direction in general (plus, we do go to the same places over and over again) to know when I am not doing what Mrs. Ashi has instructed me to do and he is vocal in his dismay. It's humiliating. Of course, if I could get anywhere without being lost perhaps I wouldn't be in this situation.
It's not really my fault, though. I live in a place where, within just a few miles of my house, one can find the following roads: Valley, Old Valley, North Valley, Valley Hill, Valley Creek, Valley Forge, Old Valley Forge, South Valley, Valley Park and Orchard Valley. A little farther afield we can find even more variations on this theme (and, by the way, type "valley" enough and it stops looking right). How on earth is anyone supposed to have any directional sense in such an environment is completely beyond me.
The rest of the family is devoted to Mrs. Ashi even as I question her utility so I am trying to be welcoming. I suspect that if Mrs. Ashi were to develop opposable thumbs, an interest in marathon sessions of Shoots and Ladders and learned how to order a pizza I might be replaced altogether.
Automotive Ennui
So, you remember the car that caught fire, right? Although the manufacturer took care of the situation and expressed great dismay for our plight, we thought perhaps we ought to consider a replacement vehicle. This isn't a decision made lightly, of course; besides very compelling macroeconomic concerns there is also the very simple matter of my consuming resentment of almost any amount of money spent on automotive requirements. I really, really, really hate parting with even the smallest sums on cars or their maintenance and this, you might understand, interferes somewhat with the car buying process. How it came to pass that I married a man who loves nothing more than to tinker on, shop for, or talk about cars is a mystery for the ages. It's probably true that we create many of our own challenges, don't you think?
I've been playing along with the whole new (to us) car idea because I take a pretty dim view of the whole catching-fire-while-driving thing. The dimness of the view shifts a bit when presented with the costs of automotive acquisition and I don't know where we'll end up with it. Since I first offered a tentative agreement that a new car would be a good idea Brainiac has probably visited every dealership within a 20 mile drive. To say he's excited is a gross misrepresentation and I feel a little bit the killjoy when I remind him that despite my consent I'm not that happy about it and I'll probably be a little miserable about the whole thing. For a while. Poor guy, but I can't fake this. You either feel the car thing or you don't, and I don't.
I especially didn't feel it when Brainiac called to tell me one day that he'd been in an accident with the other car on his way to work. Some guy tried to occupy the same space as he, it seems, and physics being what it is, they collided and now we've got the thread of totaling hanging over the car we had hoped to keep. It's really more than I can bear. One new car? With medication, therapy and a few bottles of wine I might see my way clear to becoming fully functional again someday.
Two new cars? Excuse me while I go to my Happy Place, if only virtually. I'd visit in person but I'm afraid I'd have to drive.
I've been playing along with the whole new (to us) car idea because I take a pretty dim view of the whole catching-fire-while-driving thing. The dimness of the view shifts a bit when presented with the costs of automotive acquisition and I don't know where we'll end up with it. Since I first offered a tentative agreement that a new car would be a good idea Brainiac has probably visited every dealership within a 20 mile drive. To say he's excited is a gross misrepresentation and I feel a little bit the killjoy when I remind him that despite my consent I'm not that happy about it and I'll probably be a little miserable about the whole thing. For a while. Poor guy, but I can't fake this. You either feel the car thing or you don't, and I don't.
I especially didn't feel it when Brainiac called to tell me one day that he'd been in an accident with the other car on his way to work. Some guy tried to occupy the same space as he, it seems, and physics being what it is, they collided and now we've got the thread of totaling hanging over the car we had hoped to keep. It's really more than I can bear. One new car? With medication, therapy and a few bottles of wine I might see my way clear to becoming fully functional again someday.
Two new cars? Excuse me while I go to my Happy Place, if only virtually. I'd visit in person but I'm afraid I'd have to drive.
The Old Gray Mare
I suppose by now you've come to the same conclusion as I. It's true, I'm the worst blogger ever. I make bloggy promises and walk away, drop philosophical anvils and scoot, post idly about plans for fun little themed series and pfft. I am, not to put too fine a point on it, not to be relied upon, blog-wise.
It wasn't always thus. Hot Water Bath has been around now for nearly seven years (that's, like, 49 in blog years) and my words here have been much of a journal as I've ever kept. It occurred to me recently, though, that part of the challenge to my ability to keep posting as I used to is precisely that the longevity is working against me. My life isn't the same as it was when I started but I keep trying to post about the same sorts of things as always. Clearly that idea is a non-starter.
So where does leave us? I don't know. Let's take a leaf from my workaday life and do a bit of an analytical exercise, shall we?
See what I mean? I could go on: For a long time I believed that I could save the world by shopping at a farm market. Now it's more like, "eh, buy your kale and move along, lady, there's a line forming". I used to bake a lot more, but now I rely on a few standby items that I can make with my eyes closed, thereby freeing up time for polishing my nails (oh, how I love this new OPI color I scored on my birthday) or sitting on the back porch with Brainiac and sharing a cigar. My life has changed so it's only fitting that my blog should, too.
I need to consider things a little more before I go off and make tons of changes but I think I can safely say that things might be a wee bit different soon. I understand now that I, myself, am a whole lot different and I'm going to be dragging the blog alongside. Tally ho!
It wasn't always thus. Hot Water Bath has been around now for nearly seven years (that's, like, 49 in blog years) and my words here have been much of a journal as I've ever kept. It occurred to me recently, though, that part of the challenge to my ability to keep posting as I used to is precisely that the longevity is working against me. My life isn't the same as it was when I started but I keep trying to post about the same sorts of things as always. Clearly that idea is a non-starter.
So where does leave us? I don't know. Let's take a leaf from my workaday life and do a bit of an analytical exercise, shall we?
| Year: 2002 | Year: 2005 | Year: 2009 | Advantage |
| loves house | hates house | loves house | 2009 |
| town o.k. | town tiresome | town awesome | 2009 |
| no time to read | serious reading | vamps in lurve! | 2009 |
| canning = hobby | canning = duty | canning = diversionary | 2009 |
See what I mean? I could go on: For a long time I believed that I could save the world by shopping at a farm market. Now it's more like, "eh, buy your kale and move along, lady, there's a line forming". I used to bake a lot more, but now I rely on a few standby items that I can make with my eyes closed, thereby freeing up time for polishing my nails (oh, how I love this new OPI color I scored on my birthday) or sitting on the back porch with Brainiac and sharing a cigar. My life has changed so it's only fitting that my blog should, too.
I need to consider things a little more before I go off and make tons of changes but I think I can safely say that things might be a wee bit different soon. I understand now that I, myself, am a whole lot different and I'm going to be dragging the blog alongside. Tally ho!
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