My MG asked me today if anything I did while I was pregnant might have stunted her growth. I answered that it could have been the hyperemesis which lasted for 9 months, but I really just think it is how she is meant to be. She weighed 4'12" at birth, 16 pounds at a year, and here she is, standing with her classmates, on the first day of fourth grade.
Meanwhile, MG is the biggest detractor from my enjoyment of my beloved automobile; she actually complains that she does not have enough leg room. I approximate that I spend at least 8 hours a week in my vehicle, thus my goals were that my car should be fun, comfortable, environmentally friendly, and good on my budget. So I have a 2008 Mini Cooper. When I was ready to replace the mini-van with my dreamed of Mini Cooper, I went to the Mini web site, http://miniusa.com/# and designed my own Mini - determining exactly what I wanted. But since I have issues with delayed gratification, I looked around my region and found something that was almost perfect, that I could have NOW. The desired car was only 5 1/2 hours away in Winston-Salem, NC. So my car is named Winston, a tribute to the British origins of the car, the location in which I found him, and the fact that he looks like a pack of Winston cigarettes.
Seriously, I hate cigarettes, and did not intentionally name the car after tobacco, but you have to admit, the resemblance had to come from somewhere deep within my unconscious mind. In my real job, I do a lot of work with people to help them quit smoking and other unwanted habits through the use of hypnosis. . .
I love my Mini. I love how it rides. How it handles. I love how I can fit it in between two parking spaces in the District, that is if someone else is parallel parking for me. I love it's ergonomics. Take a look at this dashboard: I love Minis so much that when I went for a solo/recharge-my-batteries road trip to California, driving US 1 from LA to San Francisco (Yes, a future post), I had to rent a Mini. A convertible Mini Cooper S - through Malibu, Big Sur, Monterey, Mill Valley, Berkeley, & Yosemite - was heaven on earth.
Now for everyday, all season use in the mountains of Virginia and in Washington, DC, I definitely prefer the panoramic sun-roof to the convertible. Inside my Mini it feels surprisingly spacious and open, all of the time, because of the terrific roof. I love riding with the roof open, letting the sun stream in, particularly in the autumn. And it is not so much wind that my hair gets all tangled and in my eyes and mouth. The convertible with the top up felt a little claustrophobic, well not quite claustrophobic, because I loved feeling close in with a Mini, more like cuddly, it felt cuddly. Yes it was thrilling with the top down, racing along canyon highways and coastal cliffs, I will admit. I've thought about finding a boyfriend with a convertible Mini. Best of both worlds kind of thing. Yin and Yang. If you haven't yet seen the newer version of the movie the ITALIAN JOB, you should. I've been watching it in slow-motion to try to figure out this parallel parking thing.
Must drive a Standard with a Mini. You have to feel like you're driving. And color matters. Mini's should be bright and cheerful, with racing stripes.
I especially love playing music on my iPod while driving in my Mini. I love belting out songs at the top of my lungs. Sometimes, I'll play the same song over like 15 times, just to make my commute seem shorter. I have pretty diverse tastes in music. My recent re-play favorite has been George Jones, THE RACE IS ON http://www.last.fm/music/George+Jones/_/The+Race+Is+On?autostart
Here are the lyrics (Am I violating copyright if I copy & paste them from somewhere else on the net?)
I feel tears wellin' up cold and deep inside
Like my heart's sprung a big break
And the stab of loneliness, sharp and painful
That I may never shake
You might say that I was taking it hard
SINCE YOU wrote me off with a call
But don't you wager that I'll hide in sorrow
When I may break right down and bawl
Now, the race is on and here comes pride up the backstretch
Heartaches are a-going to the inside
My tears are holding back
They're tryin' not to fall
My heart's out of the runnin'
True love's scratched for another stake
The race is on and it looks like heartaches
And the winner loses all!
One day I ventured in love,
Never once suspectin' what the final results would be.
How I lived in fear of waking up each mornin'
And findin' that you're gone from me
There's achin' and pain in my heart
for today was the one that I hated to face
Somebody new came up to win her and I came out in 2nd Place!
So, I seemed to have changed the subject. Hmmm.
Spent most of the day with my friend SP.
SP is one of those women who deserve the label SUPERMOM. She seems to manage it all with such style and grace that I end up feeling like I'm, well, not as capable. She too is a single mom, runs her own business, and manages a home that is too much for one adult to keep up with. We have a lot in common and are different in many ways too. This makes for a good friendship. Heck, her lawn mower, the Dixie Chopper, is bigger than my car.
Mine & SP's little girls are wonderful friends. And EG wants to marry SP's little boy. Today at lunch, EG announced her intentions. Her girlfriend, L, was quite jealous and said she wanted to marry EG. When met with rejection from my heartless kid, she said, "Fine I'm going to marry your mommy." (Ultimate come-back.) She asked me was I married. I replied, "Nope, I actually got unmarried, so I'm available." But then L thought for a few minutes and said to EG, "Wait, once I'm grown up your mom will be dead."
Here are the girls dancing for us at my house this afternoon:
And here are our kids around SP's 12 foot real tree. Which would never get home on the top of a MINI. Which no one in my lineage would ever be tall enough to decorate. And which is bound to make a collosal mess in SP's immaculately clean house. HA!
A Public Service Announcement. SP, fosters orphaned kittens and helps them find homes. Here is MG trying to convince me that we NEED another one. Any cat lovers out there reading this blog (o.k., the one person following this blog, so far) may I appeal to your generous spirit to adopt a sweet baby from SP? One more photo, not cats, but kids, eating the dinner prepared by SP:
And a last, random musing. SP inspired an idea. (This is what I get for hanging out with Republicans and the like.) It's a game called Western Shoot-Out or something, and is available at Target (go figure.) My therapeutic? idea is that you put pictures of ex-spouses, or ex-lovers perhaps on the cans, and well, you get out your aggression in vitro, with no real violence. So, there you have it. Next Christmas, SP is hoping Santa brings her a gun rack for the little toy pistol for the back window of her SUV, and an NRA membership.
Here are some more lyrics, to demonstrate my musical diversity. From Sean Kingston's REPLAY:
". . .She like a song played again and again
That girl like somethin' off a poster
That girl is a dime they say
That girl is a gun to my holster
She's runnin' through my mind all day; hey
Shawty's like a melody in my head
That I can't keep out, got me singin' like
Na, na, na, na everyday
Its like my iPod's stuck on replay, replay . . ."
Alright - I must sleep, and heal, and get up early before Monday's clients arrive. My sore body is begging me to resume my much kinder, gentler running routine versus the newly instituted and hopefully temporary snow-shoveling exercises. Next blizzard, I dare someone to tell me, "Size Doesn't Matter."
Picture of Winston, last February - remember he spent the nights in a garage in Georgetown during this most recent snowfall.