also, when good actors work in regrettable films

My husband tells me there’s another something wrong with the running car, and you can tell he doesn’t want to upset me in the way he breaks it to me, as today was the last day before payday and we spent our last few dollars on tofu and broccoli to top our sticky rice with, and we already have a $200 repair pending on this car for a deal-breaker issue (broken headlight switch), plus the tires and brakes are bad (as in, we’ve been warned not to drive by a trusted source), and since I lost the key to the trunk we can’t repair the back taillight (it just went out two days ago) without some serious tomfoolery. In case I haven’t spelled it out, our car went from get-home-before-dusk to now being street illegal, and rather unsafe to boot with this whole brake thing (repair to the tune of $1200 not counting the tires).

In case you’re curious, that thing Ralph mentioned today so cautiously? An increasingly sluggish start (which I already knew was going down), not just a cold start, I’m thinking glow plugs.

I suppose it’s time to admit defeat and trudge our way to a used car lot, where on some kind of credit (maybe) we can get something financed, and let me tell you just how entirely distasteful that whole event is to comtemplate. I’d sooner go carfree entirely, which in a food desert is unwise, but while I’m willing to step off this cliff (and may indeed have to) it is a very difficult prospect for my husband, a bike ride of 6 1/2 miles one-way which isn’t too bad, but in my estimation is dangerous (and y’all know I’m balls-out about this personally but not when it comes to ten rainy long rides per week on a highway), bus rides with hour-long gaps if he could handle the other problems associated – ask him if you want to get a rant (people around here who never, ever have to ride the bus? Say we have a “great transit system”. They can bugger directly off).

So my point is, I was sort of thinking about some of this while I opened the fridge to get my son a drink tonight and I saw my husband had yesterday as per usual purchased organic milk (about $5 per gallon as compared to the best-scenario gas-station-special of $2), because for various reasons and regardless of where anyone reading places themselves on the debate (which will not be engaged in my commentspace), my husband has always given a damn what the kids eat and drink more than just about anything and, kind of even more tenderly, to me at least, how cows and farmers are faring as well. So maybe other people reading don’t get it, but lifting the jug out and then getting down a mason jar I squared my shoulders and felt better about the whole thing, not because we had good milk, but because I have a good man.

A little while back I decided the best thing for my constitution is that I no longer allow stress to prematurely age me and cause me ill health. This is a great mandate but a little tricker to practice, more or less specifically during certain patterns of weather (today applies) and at certain times of day. Already at 11 PM I feel the familiar stranglehold and my mind and body grasp at patterns of the not-really-soothing enterprises of additional eat and drink, instead of (a smarter solution) the much less glamorous vocation of taking a deep breath and patiently turning my face to the wall to wait it out. Best thing I have going for me, besides Ralph who at some earlier hour than I retires to sleep, are the kiddos and their infinite sweetness and their good smells and their soft skin and their loving hands.

In other news, I love Twitter, love it like deep-fried pickles, enough today it often served as a balm for all sorts of ills and kept me not only informed and enthralled (for instance, after much discussion next week’s broadcast is shaping up with more focus and some lovely new topics) but also the kind of senseless exploits I find so delightful. Example: tonight I amused myself (and a few others) live-tweeting the cheesetacular 1983 film-spectacle of Assery, The Keep (directed by an at-least demonstrably talented Michael Mann, even if this film was a bust). That was some Good Times to be had. Tomorrow, maybe it’ll be nice enough to get outside, and I refuse to look at a weather forecast for the bad news that surely lurks in my future.


It’s late so I don’t have the finesse to be delicate: but, car/financial/milk/etc. advice? Oh so not wanted. kthx