When an old friend dies

Personally, I really hate change especially when everything

seems okay to begin with. I like keeping my old things because
they are familiar and comfortable to me. I ain't a picky woman.
Long as it works, I'll use it.

For example, Dolores.
My car. Not the most attractive beast on the road, but she and I
were one, full of memories and loyalty.

Now, I think in America there is an image issue, boiling down to
you are what you drive. Look at your car, and there you are.
Dolores was my car. She was cheap to keep around. Fun to look at.
Had her own personality (she would hum at the intersections.)
Hated the speed limits, mostly because her speedometer never worked.
And would sing only if she felt like it, or if you hit the dash just right.

What I really want out of transportation is feeling
rather thanan image.

Dolores got me through college.
She was there when I left ma and pa and met the new roommates.
(It was winter and we didn't scrape off the ice, just hung our heads out
the window to the grocery store.)
She was okay being loaded down with snowboarding gear and anxious
young people, and did her best up the mountain passes. She went on many
late night drives to Jack in the Box and Mickey D's. She got dirty in the
summer when we were all too busy with harvest to worry about cleaning
her. She got wet with soaking bodies coming out of the canal and
loved going fast down empty dirt roads at home. She snuck around at
night when all her passengers went on revenge trips with toilet paper.
She had more than people put in her: dogs, cats, a few calves, and once we
lost a turtle for a day. She knew how to look stylish while cruising.

She had an attitude, but she always got me home safe.
And that to me is transportation in the highest form.

R.I.P. Dolores
August 2010
You will be missed.

The "new" car doesn't have a name yet.
Any suggestions?
(We really can't bond unless I know her name.)

The Week

This blog is kinda of my excuse for a journal. I've always wanted to be a great journal writer but I hate actually writing freehand. My hands cramp very easily and I know that I am going to have arthritis when I'm older.

This has been the craziest/funniest weeks in a long, long time. I'm living with my parents for the time being until I move into my apartment which means I don't get to see my friends, who live an hour away, very often. I have discovered how important my social life is to me. When we get together it is major party time. This week is short review:

Wednesday: We went tubing down a river to a golf course. I love swimming. I didn't get the tan I was hoping for because we started about 5:00 p.m. So, I still have my famous white chicken legs. We went bowling, ate pizza, watch a movie, and talked into the wee hours of the night.

Thursday: Early mornings after late nights are the worst. You want to be active but the constant groggy feeling will not go away. My sinful remedy: Mountain Dew. My friend came over and with his mad cooking skills made us the best omelets I've ever eaten. An added bonus is that it was so healthy too. I might have to get the recipe because I'm craving one. A group of us then headed up the mountain to rock climb. It is my new favorite sport. One of the best workouts I've ever had and really challenging. I am a competitive person and I love the chance to challenge myself to greater heights. (PUN!)

Friday: What a sad, sad day. My community is very close knit (since there isn't that many of us) and when deaths happen they shake everyone up. There were two funerals and the difference between a life lived until 15 and one until 90 became clear. The 15 year old boy was one that I use to babysit in high school. He was such an awesome kid and really outgoing. My heart is breaking for the family. I cried a few times during the funeral. He died so young and with so much promise. It was such a different atmosphere than the older man. Funerals are happier when the life has been a long and fulfilling one.
We headed to Utah after the funerals.

Saturday: We painted my grandparents' bedroom. My grandpa is starting to get Alzheimer's. I don't think he recognized me. It breaks my heart because he has always been such a fun man to talk to, very sharp and intelligent. He was different, quiet and confused about his surroundings. It is sad to see someone I love completely change. I am worried for my grandmother. They have been the prime example of the "perfect" couple and I can't imgaine her without him. Charles and Shirley. Isn't their names just cute?

This is the picture I have of them from my Grandmother's 80th Birthday party a few months ago. We spent some time on Saturday going through some old photos. My grandmother was a babe. I love the way old photos look. I like the way that they use to paint them and the vintage awesomeness. Sometimes I really hate how technology has progressed so much that old art forms die. There is something beautiful about old items.

Sunday: More family! My cousin is headed to Ghana for two years for our church.

I'm back in good ol' Idaho now and ready for a more relaxing week.

Sorry for the ridiculous length of this post, just happens sometimes.