Baby, it's bleepin' cold outside

So, we're on the verge of a big storm, and things are feeling wintry around here.

I've been walking Madilyn to school in the mornings, and have been really frustrated at how cold my hands get. With sage Western wisdom, my husband declared that my hands were cold because I wasn't wearing a hat. On my head.

Hmmmm... OK. I'll bite. So today I wore a balaclava (google it), hat, glove liners, and double thick gloves with Thinsulate. (That's 3 layers of glove, people - rending my hands completely useless) And my warmest winter coat. And I still couldn't feel my fingers after the first 5 minutes.

Well, that's not entirely true. I WISHED I couldn't feel my fingers, because they were SCREAMING in pain with how cold they were. It actually took 25 minutes for them to go numb. All this, and the temps are still in the double digits. Things are not looking good for the rest of the winter season...

Car Troubles

This is so trivial that I feel silly blogging about it, and, quite frankly, it is not the biggest problem currently on my plate... but, here goes.

I'm heartbroken over my car.

Let me explain. The lease on my 2008 Saab 9-3 SportCombi is up at the end of June '10, and I'll be turning it in and most likely getting a Chevy Traverse. The Traverse is a fine vehicle - I've driven my parent's Buick Enclave (same car, basically) for the last week, and had nary a problem. Roomy, handles well, meets all my needs, and then some. I'll finally be able to offer rides to others, and the kids won't have their knees under their chins.

But it's not my Saab. It doesn't shoot out like a rocket when you tap the accelerator. It doesn't hug the curves when you (accidentally, of course) find yourself taking an offramp at greater than the posted speed. It doesn't stop on a dime. And it doesn't get those "what kind of car is that?" rubbernecker stares when you're driving. The Traverse is a good, sensible, reasonably stylish car for a SAHM whose primary function is taxi driver. Which is me. I completely fit the expected demographic for this vehicle.

Now, I'm not sure what the actual demographic for Saab owners is (and I think it varies widely) but somehow, I like the feeling of being, well, just a little bit different. Odd, perhaps, in a funky, quirky sort of way. I like the sentiments expressed in an article in the Financial Times:

Individuality – a kind of Swedish, unpretentious individuality – therefore lurks in many conversations with Saab owners. Tom Barnicoat, the former chief executive of Endemol, the Big Brother production company, has driven Saabs for 25 years. He ­rhapsodised about one of Saab’s signature eccentricities – the ignition key set in the floor (“It’s so fantastic! It needs no explanation because there is no explanation!”) – before describing Saab as an “anti-brand brand” for ­people who resist easy categorisation.

The commercial drawback of being an “anti-brand brand”, of course, is that many people drive Saabs precisely because other people don’t. ­Originality abhors a crowd. On the plus side, however, the cars can end up being whatever their drivers want them to be, even political statements. Jonathan Powell, Tony Blair’s former chief of staff, is one of Barnicoat’s oldest friends. Powell switched to Saabs in 1994, when he started working for Blair. “It is a suitable car for liberal left people,” he told me. “It’s that kind of car. Not just because it’s Swedish, but because of the sloping back and the history of it.” Do you really mean that? I asked. I had not previously considered the political significance of my car’s sloping back. Powell was adamant. “God, you’d never have a right-wing person driving a Saab. They couldn’t. Could they?” (Knight, Sam, "Why the Saab inspires intense feelings", Financial Times, July 25 2009, emphasis added)

For the record, right-wing people can and do drive Saabs... but this is not a political blog.

Anyway, for the past few months I've been struggling with the idea of giving up my Saab and the self-identity it imbues in favor of practical concerns like passenger capacity and legroom. I had reached an uneasy peace, telling myself that once my kids were grown and I didn't feel the need to move entire kid battalions from one end of town to another, I would get another Saab. I could reassume the quirky identity abandoned in favor of practicality.

Fate is fickle, though, and although the verdict isn't final, but it looks as if Saab the company will soon shut down as part of GM's restructuring. So much for that future, and hence my despair. I know this is silly - for heaven's sake, my youngest is in therapy to overcome her attachment to inanimate objects, and I must repeat "it's just a thing" at least 10 times a day - but I can't seem to shake this irrational attachment to my car.

But, apparently, I can take solace that I am not alone:

The company may never have been a conspicuous financial success, but its cars have always overflowed with feeling. Like Rolex, Apple or Harley-Davidson, there is something mysterious – albeit modest and Scandinavian – about Saab that, over the years, has transcended its marketing and publicity materials and been appropriated by the people who drive the cars....

The fixation is apparently international. After studying 1.2 million postings on “Motor Talk”, ­Germany’s ­largest motoring web forum, Rüdiger Hossiep, a psychologist at the ­University of Ruhr in Bochum, concluded this summer that Saab drivers have the highest levels of “psychological involvement” with their cars: more than 10 times the passion of the average Volkswagen driver. ...

Such things are not easy to explain. When I asked Hossiep, the ­German psychologist, what lay behind the feelings of Saab drivers for their cars, I almost heard him shake his head down the phone. “It is not objective,” he said. “It is not realistic. Really there are no facts for it.” (ibid.)

So true. There are no facts for it. It makes no sense to want to keep a car that doesn't meet my family's needs. It makes even less sense to keep one that will soon be without a dealership network, and for which parts will become increasingly difficult to find. It's foolish and irrational. No one should be that attached to or defined by a car. It's not healthy.

And still, I know I will cry when I hand over the keys at the end of June, both for the loss of my beloved car and for who I was when I drove it.

40% off

I received two great coupons in my inbox - 40% off of a single title at Barnes & Noble; one online and one in the store. YAY!

The books that I purchased - one on Asperger Syndrome and Adolescents (Sarah) and another on dealing with OCD/hoarding (Madilyn). SIGH.

Can't wait until my biggest problem in life is deciding which trashy novel I should buy...!

Nine Words Women Use

Received this today. ROFL! so true. Sent to my husband with the instruction "read and memorize. "

NINE WORDS WOMEN USE

1. Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.
2. Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
3. Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.
4. Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!
5. Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)
6. That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.
7. Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or faint. Just say you're welcome. (I want to add in a clause here - This is true, unless she says 'Thanks a lot' - that is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say 'you're welcome' . that will bring on a 'whatever').
8. Whatever: Is a woman's way of saying F-- YOU!
9. Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response refer to # 3.

* Send this to the men you know, to warn them about arguments they can avoid if they remember the terminology.

A Bright Moment

So a lady working in Subway today made my day. She was sitting at one of the tables with a clipboard and lots of papers strewn around. Because it was the lunch hour, there was a line waiting to order.

She looked up as I entered and got into line, then stood up and came over to me with her clipboard. She told me she worked for Subway and was doing a survey, and would I like to answer a few questions to get a free sub. Skeptical, but always interested in a free lunch, I agreed.

Her first question was "Are you between the ages of 18 and 34?".

HA HA HA! "Nope," I answered.

She looked at me in embarrassment, and said "OH! I'm sorry. I'm only looking for people in the 18 to 34 year old age bracket. I've already reached my quota on other ages, so I can't use you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, OK, " was my response, but inside I was thinking...

SHE ACTUALLY THOUGHT I WAS CLOSE TO 34!!!!

Shaving 10 years off my age is way better than a free lunch, any day!

Crushing, hard

So I'm totally in love, and crushing, hard.

My new guy goes with me everywhere, tells me what to do, and helps me do it. He's become my constant companion, and I feel lost without him. I can't even remember what life was like before he came into my life. If I ever lost him, I'd be heartbroken.

Ahhh. My iPhone.

This morning I checked my email, Facebook, reviewed my calendar for the day, created a to-do list, and read my scriptures, all without ever leaving my warm, fluffy, flannel-sheeted bed.

Almost makes waking up worthwhile.

iGot it!

Pigs are flying and Satan is ice skating...

I have an iPhone!

Don't plan on talking to me for the next week, 'cause I'm going to be one of those annoying people who pay more attention to their phone than life around them.

YAY!