Leap Day

Today my friend Simonne has her birthday, finally.

I'm not really sure how old she is, maybe 11 or 12. Know what I'm sayin'?

But what I really wonder is if this extra day is the reason for the storm--big wind and big noise and snow on the ground and staying.

I mean, it didn't blow and snow yesterday, the normal last day of February. Going straight to March might have spared us this.

Or is it me?

I think I'm a weather prognosticator in reverse. Because yesterday I stood in my living room, looking out at the beautiful blue sky--and we had reached mid-40s--and I actually said out loud. "It's too late now for any more storms."

It's February 27, 2012

And I'm done.

Taxes!

Oh boy!

Hooray!

Nevermind that I had to pay $316 to the Federal Government. Nevermind that. Nevermind that it cost me $90 to do it here in my own home.

The point is, I'm done.

Now I'm hungry.

When you've got a good thing . . .

Yes, I've had the servicing done on my car. I did pay $125 less than their initial quoted price. I am happy with the service, happy with my car.

After all, it's a 2005 TL, 57,860 miles on it, drives like a new car, looks great. What's not to like?

Well,

• It's not brand new
• I always want a new car
• That 2012 loaner I drove for a day got under my skin, so to speak
• It's more comfortable
• A bit smoother
• More horse power
• Keyless ignition

But my car still looks better, the style and shape of it. I think it's sad when you have a great looking car, classic, actually, in its styling, and you go messing with that.

About 2009, Acura started that kind of messing, and the result? That 2012 Acura TL looks an awful lot like a 2012 Toyota Camry, and if I wanted a car like that, I'd buy a Toyota Camry.

It's kind of like what they do to running shoes. Yeah, you get your Brooks or your NB or whatever, and you love them, and you go back the next year for another pair just like it. But, no.

So no new car for me. Besides there's the money thing. They want 42,000 or more for that TL.

Hmph.

It can be scary

My sister has advised me I should stop looking in the mirror. That's hard to do since a mirror covers the length of the wall in my bathroom.

What I see reflects (kind of a pun, you know, on mirror) what is happening to my body because of:

• age
• neglect(?)
• eating what I like and not what is good for me
• genetics(?)

Yesterday, when I looked I decided, "She's right. This is too hard to watch."

What I saw in yesterday's mirror was that my face is falling down. Really.

I hope the descent is slowish.

I mean, I don't exactly have jowls yet. And I can still see--eyelids not yet too far down for sight. I can still lift my cheeks in a smile or to sing.

However, I am not sure I look like the person I used to look like. Me. And I'd like to.

Honest in my dealings(?)

So I took my car to the dealer for an oil change. While there, I was informed by Travis that I really need the 60,000-mile service. My odometer is 57,800 miles. He went down a list of what that service involves--I sort of knew already. Then he said, "And that runs about five twenty five."

(Kind of a cute way of putting it, leaving off the word "dollars.")

I may have gasped or gulped. I said, "That's half a thousand dollars."

He continued to talk. "Well, you really need that because you didn't do the 30,000-mile service, only the 45,000."

I said I'd have to think about it.

When I got my car back and paid for the oil change, Travis continued his pitch. I said I knew of a guy who does service on Acuras and would probably go there. Travis said, "Find out what he charges and I'll match it."

He said it. I didn't.

Today I found out:

• $400.
• He has been in business 18 years.
• Has worked on Hondas 35 years.
• Only works on Honda and Acura cars.
  
• Is very busy--I'd need to give him 2 or 3 days notice and make an appointment.

This is the guy recommended to me by a Honda owner who takes his car there.

I hated to do it, but I called Travis and told him.

He talked a lot, selling me on coming to the dealer. This after he said, "Okay, I won't be making any money, but I'll match it."

I am going to the dealer. Not that he sold me. That I had already decided to.

Should I feel bad for dealing thus?

The Night Sky

The sky was almost periwinkle blue when I went out. A touch of purple in it. My neighbor and I watched the International Space Station move northeast across the sky and then disappear. I love to see such stuff.

Janice asked, "Wouldn't you love to be up there, Carol?"

I said . . . well, what do you think I said?
A. Yes, but not for six months.
B. I don't think so.
C. I'll have to think about that one.

Venus and Jupiter are bright tonight.

Orion is up hunting for something, and Sirius is absolutely gorgeous, blinking out its colors. Reds along with the blues and greens. Janice tried to convince me it was an airplane.

"If you're seeing reds, it's an airplane," she said. I finally convinced her that it was not moving. It's Sirius, I thought. She went in and checked her star chart. I came in and looked online. It's Sirius.

Sign of the Times

Today's WikiHow

How to Get Your Child to Give You Back the iPad

Now doesn't that make you feel better?

For all of you who use apostrophes incorrectly . . .

From Eats, Shoots & Leaves, quoting the Oxford Companion to English Literature,

"There never was a golden age in which the rules for the possessive apostrophe were clear-cut and known, understood and followed by most educated people."

See, you're not so dumb.

Two Things

1.
Today I took chili to a church function. I've always made good chili. It's true.

Earlier in the week, someone at Curves told me that her friend puts chorizo in chili and it is so very good. "You should try it," she said.

So I did.

I went out and bought some chorizo. Of course, you can't buy only one. You have to buy at least four in a package. At least four. And they aren't cheap.

This morning, I cut up the chorizo, only one of them, put the pieces in a frying pan to cook out some of the grease--it is so yellow, by the way--and then added it to my pot of chili. The chorizo, not the grease.

Yes, my chili was all eaten, for which I'm glad, but not before I had a bowl. However, and I'm sure you know where I'm going here, I can only say this about the chorizo and its effect upon my chili: enh. Translation: nothing to write home about.

2.
I have seen my dermatologist, Dr Burr-Under-the-Saddle, on TV in a commercial for ReJuv. There he is, as I have seen him for now many years, standing over some patient, holding her hand--her, of course, since ReJuv is a "Spa" specializing in making aging women look young--and he is wearing the light on his head, as usual.

They give him no speaking part, but if they did, I know what he would be saying. Something like, "Stick with me, kid."

It Could Be Worse--I Suppose It Will Be Eventually

Took my friend to lunch today. A mix, of course.

Moments when she is just the person I knew. And very lucid, a word she used to describe herself. Other moments when she repeated and repeated and repeated what she had said before. So that some conversations are strained and others just normal.

She is puzzled. So am I. She says she has no confidence. I see that and hear it and understand why. I cannot count the times she thanked me for this break and time away. Doesn't matter that I tell her not to thank me.

I said, "We're friends." Which made her cry and thank me more.

No one calls to chat. That's kind of normal, I think. No one calls me either. She believes it's because people are afraid of her. Probably true also. It took her visiting teachers eight months to show up in person. Now they come each month, quite unafraid.

What she has isn't catching.

Her husband told me the first thing as I walked in the door, "We're going on a six-month mission." Seems they only learned last night of the six-month option.

I hope they do that. Her neurologist sees no reason not to. Says of all the patients he sees, she is doing the best.

They keep very active. Daily workouts at the Y and daily walks around the neighborhood. And he always has some chore for her to do. But he did the laundry and the dishes today. He helped make the jam--with their own strawberries--and I now have some in my freezer.

I believe the physical activity helps. I also believe her return to the piano helps. A lot. It makes her think and work hard. It is also a refuge.

Ggggggggoing strong.

Sometimes I have to have a Subway sandwich to remind myself of how very much I do not need another one for a very long time.

Kind of a private public service I perform for myself.

Not that I have anything against Subway. I don't. Which may be part of the problem.

Anyway, today I did it. And, okay, it was a foot long. February is $5 footlong, any footlong, month. All month. And it's Leap Year, you know, so 29 days of it.

I admit, I'm influenced by those $5 footlong commercials. That little ditty is catchy, and it caught me about six days ago. I put it off, but today was it for me

I ate almost all of the sandwich--it was a Club--after which I was sorry, of course. But that's part of the private public service. You kind of have to eat until you don't feel very well. Makes it more effective.

I think.

Not Good

I need to add this to my I don't like it when list.

I don't like it when I go out to get the mail, and there is only one piece of mail, and it's from the local mortuary.

They have a nice little (19 questions) survey they want me to "take a minute" to answer.

If I will take those few moments, they'll send me their "My Final Wishes Organizer."

It's true, you never know, and clearly my time is getting closer, but I'm not doing it.

Just So You Know

I don't like it when:

• people less than half my age tell me how to do something I've been doing--and very well, thank you--since before they were born
• people assume my white hair means the head beneath it is empty
• people think that I couldn't possible know "what's going on"; think again
  
• things break or go wrong in my house; it makes me feel insecure
• my hair is straight; it makes me feel insecure
  

I like it when:

• my garage door opens without a hitch
• my car starts
• my across-the-street neighbor calls to tell me I've left my garage door open; this only happens at night, and I don't often leave the door open, but if I do, she calls--I can count on it
• my neighbor on my left mows my little stretch of lawn near his house
• someone comes to rake my leaves--and I don't really care who it is
• my kids call and I know they are okay
• better yet, they stop by
  
• friends stop by
• I've lost a pound or two
• my hair has some curl in it

And I like it that I have finished my Grandma's quilt.