Ever have one of those days when positive karma seems to get your drift? No red light dares to stop you, traffic's moving at the actual speed limit, minute digits fall asleep on your car clock, no odd car noise starting a mini-panic of sorts, and only minimal road kill messes with your head? I didn't think so...
One month each year, husband's vacation time, I have to hijack my sweet red Toyota if I desire to place myself in it's driver's seat. I'm beginning to comprehend husband's need to regulate control of his own car and that of mine. His vehicle on wheels truly sucks! There...I've said it. The driving force for his compulsive
disorder sweetness to call all the shots of my travel time when he claims he just wants to be with me, is a not so clever disguise to escape that mode of transportation that begrudgingly transferred from a sweet daughter to himself in what must by now seem like more than two lifetimes ago.
Her Isuzu Amigo was a mistake...and now it's his mistake until it willingly disintegrates, and it doesn't appear to be volunteering to fall apart in any timely manner any time soon. Personally, I think he should just embrace this piece of
junk art on wheels and give it THE LOVE; although I've lately been wondering what force of evil ever convinced an auto maker to mass produce a car with vinyl windows and a zipper. Say you have a big fat zipper staring you in the face; wouldn't your first inclination be to...dah...unzip it? Would you ever really be cruising through bear country or an angry mob in this thing?
Husband's flight was canceled from Afghanistan to Dubai, sending him scrambling to book another flight...the L-O-N-G route home, Amsterdam, Atlantic Ocean, Greenland or Iceland...forgot which, Detroit, then home-sweet-home. Why would anyone want to fly directly to the states when they can take the scenic hop. He's lost a day of his already way too short visit...bummer...that's one day less he can taxi me to my every destination.
Labor Day was a Chattanooga getaway...next week is a Memphis vacation postponed from the May floods. Do you think Elvis's ghost will be a bit put out that I'm not screaming with delight at the prospect of touring his digs with husband? I'll scream at the prospect of an evening with Jeff Dunham. A symphony is stuck in there somewhere, and Thanksgiving at the lush Hermitage Hotel...mmmmm yummy yum. A bit quieter two weeks this time around.
It's always Christmas at Thanksgiving, if I stop procrastinating long enough to drag out the boxes of stored away holiday magic. I can't get my motor running, my gas gauge seems to be on empty and the oil light is blinking...hummm...perhaps a lovely glass of Filippo Gallino Birbet Italian sparkling sweet red wine. A discovery while dining in Chattanooga; and of course, today I went out and got one to sit on my own dining table. Cheers!!! and may you all have a loving Thanksgiving full of wonderful surprises and many sweet blessings.