This and That

I got the news from the garage concerning my pimped Mini,uh,van: Apparently I need to replace a gasket. Depending on whether we're talking about the intake or the head gasket, the repairs will run anywhere from $500 to $1200+. It's fortunate that I'm uber-wealthy. That's like maybe a quarter for me, relative to what you all make. Not to rub it in or anything, I'm just saying good for me and all.

Speaking of wealth, I need to start searching for at least one more freelance job. I'm looking primarily for a writing gig, but I suppose I'll accept editing crap. And speaking of crap, can you believe Peter Boyle is gone? Holy crap. (That's not "Catholic, XXII: Sacramentals," by the way, just an exclamation.)

Saturday was 30 weeks for the baby boy. Woo-hoo! I think he's already done, though, because Laura's belly button looks like a spent plastic pop-up turkey timer.

Automobility Regained

Both the Jeep and the Ford are home, fixed, and inspected. Now if only we could afford gas.

Falling for You

The van is working again. The mechanic slipped the drive belt on in no time at all and charged me nothing for his trouble. "Don't worry about it," he said - what an excellent little sentence.

We appreciate your prayers.

. . . . .

Last night, after the kids had gone to bed, my wife and I were watching American Idol. A commercial advertising the soon release of King Kong came on TV, and I leapt off the couch and walked like a gorilla over to the toy basket. I reached down and grabbed the naked Barbie doll and began quiet, ape-like gruntings as I ran and leapt back toward the couch.

Remember how Lucy continually tormented Charlie Brown with his inability to kick the football? She would convince him to try one more time through her most persuasive rhetoric. Charlie Brown would start running and, of course, Lucy would pull the football away just as he kicked at the ball. Chuck would fly into the air, reaching exceptional heights, and then fall hard onto his back. Remember?

That's what I looked like last night as I moved with Kong-esque rapidity. In my simian agility, I slipped on something. Then, like Chuck, my whole body came out from under me, and I flew into the air. After several moments, I came down like a ton of bricks onto my elbow and side and the wind was knocked out of me. I had started laughing while I was still in the air and continued to do so once I was able to uncrumple myself and catch my breath. Laura was sure I had broken something, but I did not. I didn't even wake the children with my great house-shaking. Barbie, played by Naomi Watts, was unharmed.

No more King Kong for the next day or two.

. . . . .

This morning when I went walking, I noticed that the porch was somewhat slippery from some frost that had accumulated there. I warned Laura about it before she left for school. I warned Sophie about it as well. They slowly made their way out of the house and cautiously made it down the steps and to the van. Laura set her coffee mug on top of the van and opened the door for Sophie. She then turned toward me and tried to communicate something to me with some gesturing. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. She quickly set her things in the van and came back up to the house. She was about half-way across the porch when one leg went one way and the other another. She fell on her hinterparts.

I admit that I laughed.

She managed to get up without too much trouble and when she reached the door, she asked for Sophie's coat. I told her it was in the van.

(Yes, she remembered to retrieve her coffee from the top of the van.)

Five "Damns," One "What the Hell"

About a week and a half ago, I posted that Laura's Jeep was running rough and that I, laughably, was going to take a look at it. The next day, on the way to work, the driveshaft fell off. It's been in the shop since, though our mechanic thinks it may be fixed today (he was waiting for a part). So for the past week, we've been a one-vehicle family and, for the most part, Laura has been taking the van to work. Last night, however, on the way back from picking up a few groceries, she drove through a puddle and immediately the power steering went out and the battery light came on.

She was able to make it back home since we only live a block or two from the store - mostly a straight shot.

It was a little worrisome, since it leaves us without a vehicle and without really any money to fix the vehicle. Today she called our mechanic and he said that it may just be that the drive belt was knocked off by the water and that I could put it back on myself.

I opened the hood, about the only thing I know how to do on a car, and checked it out. Check! The drive belt was off. I was able to re-route the belt by following the diagram under the hood, but I couldn't get the blasted thing around the last pulley. Frustration ensued. Called the mechanic. Oh, you have to get a 15mm wrench and loosen the drive belt tensioner? No problem, just as soon as I can find the drive belt tensioner. You do realize these things aren't labeled?

Looked for a wrench - none of mine are metric, of course. Walked, in the rain, to the auto store (it's a three-minute walk, no big deal) and bought a 15mm wrench. Walked, in the rain, back to the house. Pants too loose and kept falling off. I need a smaller belt for my pants, which is good news, just not today.

Found the tensioner bolt, reamed on it, belt magically loosened! But still can't get the damned thing around the last pulley. I can't ream and push at the same time and I've got giant man-size hands that make it difficult to navigate in the insanely tight spaces of under-the-hood. Damn, damn, damn.

Anyway, I've spent a good deal of time out in the cold (unbelievably 36F, only days ago it was in the 80s) and rain - though I am under the carport.

Anyone have any tips about getting the drive belt back on? We may have to just pull it into a shop down the street after lunch and see if the local mechanic can slip it on for us - I am praying he doesn't charge an arm and a leg for a five-minute, elbow-grease job. I'm willing to part with, say, $20. But any more and I'm likely to curl up into a fetal position, suck my thumb, and cry.

I wish I could get the damn belt on myself. What the hell, I'll just drive it to the shop - all this book-learnin' is useless. (Maybe I could leverage the wrench with a stack of books and then wrangle the belt . . .) Oh, Ack!

Notes from the Infirmary

The Lyons' house has been full this week. But Laura and Sophie, home because of the flu, are heading back to school today. Avery got it too, but it hasn't seemed to hit her as hard as her sister or her mama.

The Jeep's running loudly. I'll be looking at it today. And if you know anything about my automobile expertise, you are now laughing out loud.

I am meeting with our local priest to discuss sin and grace and justification tomorrow afternoon (4 p.m.). I'd appreciate your prayers about this meeting, as I'm having difficulty verbalizing my questions and ordering my thoughts.

Anyone have an extra Easy Button lying around?

On a bright note, it's supposed to be in the 70s and sunny (80 on Sunday and Monday?) for the next five or more daysΩ.

My son just typed that omega. I don't know how. The Raccoon has this thing with computers - after he's touched it, I usually have to do a search for help on how to get the computer running normally again. The last time he had access to it, he set the computer to "VoiceOver" so that the machine was reading every text out loud as I scrolled over it. It was not a sultry reading either - just sterile computerized vocalizations. (Blast!) It only takes him a few keystrokes to confound me.

What Your Daddy Never Told You

The following information is revolutionary. It may change your life. Brace yourself.

Whether it's a rental or it's new, your husband or your wife's, a parent or a sibling's - there are few things worse than getting in an unfamiliar automobile and wanting or needing to fuel up. You never know which side of the vehicle the tank is on. (Can I hear an Amen?) You crane your neck and your mirrors to try to see the tank, but often you cannot crane far enough.

Your craning days are over.

Simply look at the dashboard inside the vehicle. On the gas gauge there is an arrow that points to the left or to the right. That arrow is pointing to the side of the car the tank is on. It's true. I KNOW! Mind-blowing information, huh?

Now, let's all de-lurk and post whether this is news to you. (I heard it in church two weeks ago, and I haven't been the same since. I've been giddy with this tank knowledge.)

And for those of you who knew, let's not be too smug. Okay?