The weather folks have been in an uproar lately. Last Saturday, we got socked with an unexpected ice storm that reduced highways and byways to large skating rinks. Took me damn near two hours to negotiate the short distance from the Metrodome in Minneapolis to the Como area estate.
Thanksgiving is on us tomorrow. The Voices of doom and gloom are howling about an expected 1-3 inches of snow around town tonight. 1-3 inches? As a kid growing up in Detroit, we prayed for 1-3 inches of snow on Thanksgiving Day. (Rarely got our wish. It was usually either cold rain or a brisk sunny day.)
So we have a (mini) snowstorm descending upon us. We are approaching our third Thanksgiving without fulltime, gainful employment. My neck is stiff today. The Detroit Lions only have two wins. The Republicans, giddy over winning most fo the election races earlier this month, are promising to roll back everything any Dem ever accomplished because ... they can. Seems like a perfect time to say, "Bah, Humbug" and move into the prenatal position on the couch with remote in hand.
Except that there is a helluva lot to be thankful this year. When people say "Well, you got your health," they ain't kidding. A longtime friend of my wife passed away late last night. He was 59 years old. The cancer was first spotted less than a year ago. A good friend of mine -- a fellow of similar age -- has cancer in his eye. Had a setback recently. Another family friend is spending Thanksgiving Eve at the Mayo Clinic trying to find out just what the hell is wrong anyway.
There are other stories like this, too. And so it goes.
But the fact is there really is a lot to be thankful this year. When one goes through trials and tribulations, one learns that little victories count just as much as big victories. So, when you sell a small, satiric article to MinnPost.com (as I did the other day. it was a casual about the Vikings, who got hammered on Sunday and fired their coach the next day, slipping down to the level of the Lions. Read it. I thought it sang.), you enjoy it. When you get a fair settlement for your car being stolen and you are able to buy a good used car from a person you trust, you smile a bit longer. When you learn a friend was really able to pull a big surprise off and visit her parents in another state, you are happy for them. When the family dog greets you like he really is happy to see you, you can't help but smile and rub his ears. And when you have a kid in a class you are teaching who has been nothing but trouble for you suddenly relax and be civil in a place where you never expected him to, you are filled with goodwill.
It's all in what you make of it. There are plenty of big things in life that need attention. Recovering from heart stents and getting a fulltime job ranks high on that list.
But we tend to focus on the little problems and often make a big deal out of something that is small potatoes. So, when your partner in a football pool changes a pick and that costs you a possible win for the week, you shrug and just be happy that you have such a friend. You have a drink together. You laughingly tell her never to do it again. And then you move on.
You look forward to such events as Thanksgiving dinner at your sister-in-law's place. Not only is she a helluva cook, she is terrific company and a great, giving, caring human being. Yes, it's not the same without her mom being around. But the last thing Colleen would want is for anybody to mope. There's simply too much living and laughing to be done.
I guess what this means is we all can find things to grumble about. Some of them are even legitimate gripes. But tomorrow is the one day of the year where we are supposed to forget about that crap and reflect on the things we are truly grateful for. At least that is my intention.
After all, there are 362 other days (Christmas Eve and Christmas Day get passes, too) to mull over those problems.
Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Moving on ... slowly
The car adventure is about to come to an end. Naturally, there were a few last bumps in the road but the end is clearly in sight.
After 3 1/2 weeks, the 2003 Alero was officially declared MIA. Farmer's told me the amount they were willing to give me for it. It was a fair figure and I accepted accordingly. The check was headed in the mail when the fun really began.
The day the check was due, I got a phone call. Seems the car had been found and was now residing the City of St. Paul police impound lot. Ironically, this call came on the same day I was due to have lunch with my wife Lynne and our friend Steph. It was supposed to be a celebration of sorts, an official acknowledgment my short personal nightmare was ending.
But there was the matter of the lost sheep. After lunch, Lynne and I headed to the police impound lot, one of the most depressing places I have ever visited. It is out on the edge of downtown. You take a few back roads that twist to and fro and you suddenly come across the place. There is no parking lot. You find a spot and hike to a back door. Then you have to climb up a set of stairs that reminded me of the movie "Psycho". Once upstairs, there is a guy behind a glass window so think a tank couldn't pierce it.
When we arrived, the poor fellow was catching hell from a fellow whose car had been towed there. The fellow was none too happy about it but whipped out his checkbook. The clerk informed him that this is a cash or charge place - no checks allowed. The guy threw a charge card at him, scribbled his name on a slip, and, after invoking the deity in a rather uncomplimentary fashion, stormed out.
We explained our presence there. We just wanted to look at the car. Hell, I didn't even have the keys anymore. They had been mailed back to Oklahoma City. After the clerk behind the tankproof window figured out I was serious about this mission, he sent me in the car's direction. There it was, lying in a ditch of sorts. There were scrapes on its head and toe. It was clear the miscreants who took it had tried to take the wheel coverings. Fortunately, they were not proficient in their field. Their efforts yielded only a few bruises. For some reason, they had apparently tried to take out the front window. They failed there, too ... unless you count the fact the rubber that holds everything together was no longer solidly in place.
The inside looked unchanged. Whatever they tried to do, they drove it as was and apparently didn't touch a thing.
I noted all this and called Farmers back. Tyler, my claims rep, listened in a state of disbelief. "I think this is the only the second time I have ever run across this," he said. "It's your choice. You can have the car back or keep the check and move on."
I pondered for a second. I loved that car. But god knows what these people did to it and god knows what may happen down the line. The devil you don't know is a scary thing. I took the money and ran.
Well, that settled one half of the problem. No I had to go another car. We checked out a couple of places. Lynne's cousin, a helluva good guy, worked at one of them. He had a couple of used cars that would be OK. I would have liked to make a deal for a new one but working part-time the past two years had not helped my credit history much. I could make a deal but the payment would have been ghastly.
My neighbor, also a good guy, opened a car place a while back. We went out there. I drove a car I instantly liked - a 2011 Malibu. But I was wary of what the financial terms might be. I haven't closed the door on that one yet but it is looking doubtful.
As it turned out, my new vehicle was almost within eyesight the whole time. A former boss of Lynne's lived on the street behind us. This woman has also been a longtime friend. As part of a new job, she also got a nifty company car. It mean her previous vehicle, a 2002 Escape, sat unused. She was willing to sell it to me if I wanted it. I had never driven anything that size on a regular basis. Took it for a spin and liked it but wanted to check out my options a little more.
While I am thinking about it, Lynne's friend said I could borrow it for a week as long as I behaved myself and gassed it up. Fair enough.
I went over late in the day to drive the car the one block trip home. Unfortunately, it took an hour and half to do so. You see, there is a ridge in her driveway that goes up three feet or so. When I backed up the car, I sent the tires dangling over the ridge. The car could neither go to or fro. It was in no danger of going anywhere in fact. 3 second after I had taken possession of the car, I was unable to drive it.
This is not a good start, I thought.
Sighing, I called AAA. The woman was polite but took some convincing this actually happened in the middle of the city and I wasn't hanging on for deal life on a country road somewhere. When the tow truck guy came, he suppressed a smile and went about his business. It took some moving of wood planks back and forth but the car was extricated from the mess I had placed it in.
Lynne's friend arrived home to this scene. She smiled, too. She told me I wasn't the first person to perform this feat. Lynne called, too, to see how things were going. I tried to explain it over the phone to her. She, too, was disbelieving. "I'm coming home right now," she said and hung up the phone.
When she got over to her friend's house, the rescue operation was going great guns. Lynne's friend took her inside and said it really was no big deal - it could happen to anybody.
My wife is a good, strong woman. She understood this could happen to anybody, She just wished I wasn't the anybody involved.
The AAA guy, however, knew his stuff. He expertly guided onto his back. The car was duly lowered into the street. I tipped him generously and roared off the block needed to get the car home.
And this is where we stand at the moment. I am leaning towards the 2002 Escape and will likely decide in a day or so. After our interesting start, however, I wonder what is up next.
After 3 1/2 weeks, the 2003 Alero was officially declared MIA. Farmer's told me the amount they were willing to give me for it. It was a fair figure and I accepted accordingly. The check was headed in the mail when the fun really began.
The day the check was due, I got a phone call. Seems the car had been found and was now residing the City of St. Paul police impound lot. Ironically, this call came on the same day I was due to have lunch with my wife Lynne and our friend Steph. It was supposed to be a celebration of sorts, an official acknowledgment my short personal nightmare was ending.
But there was the matter of the lost sheep. After lunch, Lynne and I headed to the police impound lot, one of the most depressing places I have ever visited. It is out on the edge of downtown. You take a few back roads that twist to and fro and you suddenly come across the place. There is no parking lot. You find a spot and hike to a back door. Then you have to climb up a set of stairs that reminded me of the movie "Psycho". Once upstairs, there is a guy behind a glass window so think a tank couldn't pierce it.
When we arrived, the poor fellow was catching hell from a fellow whose car had been towed there. The fellow was none too happy about it but whipped out his checkbook. The clerk informed him that this is a cash or charge place - no checks allowed. The guy threw a charge card at him, scribbled his name on a slip, and, after invoking the deity in a rather uncomplimentary fashion, stormed out.
We explained our presence there. We just wanted to look at the car. Hell, I didn't even have the keys anymore. They had been mailed back to Oklahoma City. After the clerk behind the tankproof window figured out I was serious about this mission, he sent me in the car's direction. There it was, lying in a ditch of sorts. There were scrapes on its head and toe. It was clear the miscreants who took it had tried to take the wheel coverings. Fortunately, they were not proficient in their field. Their efforts yielded only a few bruises. For some reason, they had apparently tried to take out the front window. They failed there, too ... unless you count the fact the rubber that holds everything together was no longer solidly in place.
The inside looked unchanged. Whatever they tried to do, they drove it as was and apparently didn't touch a thing.
I noted all this and called Farmers back. Tyler, my claims rep, listened in a state of disbelief. "I think this is the only the second time I have ever run across this," he said. "It's your choice. You can have the car back or keep the check and move on."
I pondered for a second. I loved that car. But god knows what these people did to it and god knows what may happen down the line. The devil you don't know is a scary thing. I took the money and ran.
Well, that settled one half of the problem. No I had to go another car. We checked out a couple of places. Lynne's cousin, a helluva good guy, worked at one of them. He had a couple of used cars that would be OK. I would have liked to make a deal for a new one but working part-time the past two years had not helped my credit history much. I could make a deal but the payment would have been ghastly.
My neighbor, also a good guy, opened a car place a while back. We went out there. I drove a car I instantly liked - a 2011 Malibu. But I was wary of what the financial terms might be. I haven't closed the door on that one yet but it is looking doubtful.
As it turned out, my new vehicle was almost within eyesight the whole time. A former boss of Lynne's lived on the street behind us. This woman has also been a longtime friend. As part of a new job, she also got a nifty company car. It mean her previous vehicle, a 2002 Escape, sat unused. She was willing to sell it to me if I wanted it. I had never driven anything that size on a regular basis. Took it for a spin and liked it but wanted to check out my options a little more.
While I am thinking about it, Lynne's friend said I could borrow it for a week as long as I behaved myself and gassed it up. Fair enough.
I went over late in the day to drive the car the one block trip home. Unfortunately, it took an hour and half to do so. You see, there is a ridge in her driveway that goes up three feet or so. When I backed up the car, I sent the tires dangling over the ridge. The car could neither go to or fro. It was in no danger of going anywhere in fact. 3 second after I had taken possession of the car, I was unable to drive it.
This is not a good start, I thought.
Sighing, I called AAA. The woman was polite but took some convincing this actually happened in the middle of the city and I wasn't hanging on for deal life on a country road somewhere. When the tow truck guy came, he suppressed a smile and went about his business. It took some moving of wood planks back and forth but the car was extricated from the mess I had placed it in.
Lynne's friend arrived home to this scene. She smiled, too. She told me I wasn't the first person to perform this feat. Lynne called, too, to see how things were going. I tried to explain it over the phone to her. She, too, was disbelieving. "I'm coming home right now," she said and hung up the phone.
When she got over to her friend's house, the rescue operation was going great guns. Lynne's friend took her inside and said it really was no big deal - it could happen to anybody.
My wife is a good, strong woman. She understood this could happen to anybody, She just wished I wasn't the anybody involved.
The AAA guy, however, knew his stuff. He expertly guided onto his back. The car was duly lowered into the street. I tipped him generously and roared off the block needed to get the car home.
And this is where we stand at the moment. I am leaning towards the 2002 Escape and will likely decide in a day or so. After our interesting start, however, I wonder what is up next.
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