My best new car so far was my 95 Toyota RAV4. She was a peppy red rolling classroom/child care center with a sporty hood scoop and an overhead ski rack. There was plenty of room inside for stacks of student essays as well as some Dr. Seuss favorites along with small packets of jelly beans hidden in all kinds of special car pockets. It served my teacher-self and my Granny-self well until that day in early spring when Mrs. No Driver's Licence-No Insurance tried to make it to a good parking spot at the Head Start Center right through the driver's side of my beloved Salsa Linda causing her to steam, smoke, and shatter into a total loss. I really mourned that car. She was perfect and suited me just fine.
I replaced her with my worst new car - a smoky colored 2014 Mazda CX-5. It didn't take me very long to figure out that I couldn't see very well through the peephole rear window let alone to the sides of the car around the huge frame posts. And it took forever for me to learn how to use all the modern techno-gadgets that come with new cars these days. Not long after I figured out how to use the phone and tune in the really great sounding Bose radio and christened him Thunder, I decided he was just way too big for me. He required clever steering and reversing to get him into a parking spot at Safeway and in spite of the great tunes and lots more room for grandkids, I began to think about getting a different car. Mind you, this one wasn't even two years old (and paid for) when I proposed downsizing to my husband after I'd done lots of research to be able to talk persuasively. Then the deal became done when I accidentally tried to make the garage a little bigger with Thunder's right front panel. Pat was on board for the car search.
It's not a good idea for me to share the experience of car shopping on my own. It makes me angry to remember how quickly I was dismissed. If that salesman had only known that I was ready to give Thunder to him and throw wads of money his way, he wouldn't have sent me to the back lot two blocks down the street. No, "Let me drive one up here for you." Nothin'.
So we drove out to the very friendly Subaru lot in Gresham where a welcoming young woman stood waiting for us with an encouraging smile. She was new at it and had to summon Bryce to help her out. It was an easy sell after the five or ten minutes it took me to find Fern F. Forester only steps from the showroom door. She is a just right for me kind of car even though her technology is even trickier than Thunder's. She gets good gas mileage on my many drives back and forth to Salem, is comfortable, and has good visibility. She's smaller than my other new cars but still has room enough for grandgirls and their teen and pre-teen gear along with a good spot for TicTacs, lip gloss, and coffee credit cars and my gym pass. (I couldn't resist adding that; yes, I have a pass to the gym, but it will take a very long time for me to wear it out.) We were quickly able to go through the torture experience of haggling the price and giving over Thunder into the hands of someone who will find a more loving garage for his bubbly-windowed self. I didn't even need to excuse myself to the restroom to take pain reliever for a headache. We weren't there long enough for me to get one.
I've heard rumors about the kind of people who drive Subarus but will let that subject slide for now. Fern fits our garage to a tee and I think she'll be with me for a long time. She's my newest and I hope my new best car. . .and she's paid for.
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Chocolate Porn
If you are as serious about chocolate as I am, you might see yourself in this post. Or you might find a new way to enjoy the experience. Be aware, though, this article is intended for mature readers only and shouldn't be shared with the children in your home unless you have already identified them as junior chocoholics.
You began your addiction at an early age when you ate 12 Hershey's Kisses one right after another and stopped only because you realized that you'd get caught and would have to confess when the question "Who ate all the Kisses?" was asked. Later you learned how to make up a decent lie before you indulged. You graduated to the Gourmet level when you began to understand the difference between m&ms and boutique chocolate including samples at See's Candy Stores. You have almost arrived at the Master level which will be attained as soon as you cannot be in your own home if no chocolate is present, you are reduced to tearing open the bag of chocolate chips you've been saving for cookie baking, and/or you have no qualms about asking little kids to share the Cadburys in their Easter baskets.
Those are the "general audience" appropriate ways to eat chocolate even though they might seem a little weird. The true way to determine if eating chocolate has become like a pornographic act for you is when you stud a spoonful of peanut butter with chocolate chips and eat it in the bathroom. This becomes a wild and private experience of attaining a fix in a hurry with a quick sense of satisfaction and no guilt.
Another good way to enjoy the porn experience of chocolate is to go into a See's Candy Store for a free sample as many times as you think you can get away with it during one mall visit. If you sense that the thrill of it is becoming dangerous, then buy a chocolate Bordeaux bar and retreat to a quiet bench and count how many bites you can divide the eating process into. This is a peak moment of indulgence and with care you can achieve the high of it gradually and powerfully. Bordeaux bars are truly wonderful and can provide any number of chocolate highs in varying approaches.
Now you are beginning to understand that your addiction is not something to laugh about. You have no pride when it comes to achieving maximum enjoyment of chocolate. And the final test: you will no longer eat Tootsie Rolls because they do not really qualify as chocolate.
You began your addiction at an early age when you ate 12 Hershey's Kisses one right after another and stopped only because you realized that you'd get caught and would have to confess when the question "Who ate all the Kisses?" was asked. Later you learned how to make up a decent lie before you indulged. You graduated to the Gourmet level when you began to understand the difference between m&ms and boutique chocolate including samples at See's Candy Stores. You have almost arrived at the Master level which will be attained as soon as you cannot be in your own home if no chocolate is present, you are reduced to tearing open the bag of chocolate chips you've been saving for cookie baking, and/or you have no qualms about asking little kids to share the Cadburys in their Easter baskets.
Those are the "general audience" appropriate ways to eat chocolate even though they might seem a little weird. The true way to determine if eating chocolate has become like a pornographic act for you is when you stud a spoonful of peanut butter with chocolate chips and eat it in the bathroom. This becomes a wild and private experience of attaining a fix in a hurry with a quick sense of satisfaction and no guilt.
Another good way to enjoy the porn experience of chocolate is to go into a See's Candy Store for a free sample as many times as you think you can get away with it during one mall visit. If you sense that the thrill of it is becoming dangerous, then buy a chocolate Bordeaux bar and retreat to a quiet bench and count how many bites you can divide the eating process into. This is a peak moment of indulgence and with care you can achieve the high of it gradually and powerfully. Bordeaux bars are truly wonderful and can provide any number of chocolate highs in varying approaches.
Now you are beginning to understand that your addiction is not something to laugh about. You have no pride when it comes to achieving maximum enjoyment of chocolate. And the final test: you will no longer eat Tootsie Rolls because they do not really qualify as chocolate.
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