Posts from — June 2009
Our car… is about to RIP. In someone else‘s garage.
We have a “fancy” (lolz) 1992 V6 Toyota Camry. Recently George has, just to give you an idea of all it has needed, done the following:
- replaced the air filter;
- changed the oil and oil filter;
- cleaned the throttle plate and throttle body;
- added fuel injector cleaner to the gas tank;
- replaced the air hose bellows between the air filter and the throttle, since it had a tear;
- replaced the accessory belt twice, along with the tensioner belt;
- has replaced all six spark plugs with titanium plugs, and all six plug wires;
- replaced the distributor rotor and cap;
- cleaned battery leads;
- replaced the original fuel filter (from 1992!).
Additionally, the handle on the passenger door needs to be replaced, the motor for the back passenger side window broke so now that window is being held up by suction cups, and the AC died. Yes, when it’s summer in Florida and it’s been around 110ºF (Real Feel).
We have just decided to sell it as is, and take whatever we’re offered for it before it completely dies and we’re screwed. Obviously, we had to take it in to get the A/C system charged with refrigerant, because who in their right mind would purchase a car in the summer without cool A/C?
When I was finished with my translation today, I drove it to our mechanic to get that done. I dropped the car off, gave him the keys and he looks at me scoldingly.
“I thought you couldn’t drive yet.”
“Well, I don’t have a license here yet, but I have my Mexican one.”
He does a double take. “You’re Mexican?! You don’t look Mexican!!!”
I stood there kind of stunned and amused for a minute, not quite knowing how to respond to that. “Well, I am!”
“Your English is so good, though!”
“Thank you? I guess I learned it well?”
This exchange made my day. He wasn’t trying to be rude or mean. He wasn’t like, “Ew, Mexican.” He was just genuinely shocked… and moreso because I don’t “talk or look like one”… I just wonder if people realize, when they say something like this, that to most people it’d be kind of insulting. I’ve gotten so used to people being outright rude here that things like this just make me giggle.
Anyway… anyone want to buy a Camry? I hear it’s in excellent condition…
June 24, 2009 3 Comments
June 21, 2009 7 Comments
But I digress.
George went in super early/late and came home around 8:00am, meaning he didn’t wake up until some time in the afternoon. When I went to wake him up, Leo Tolstoi (no, I am not, in fact, calling my cat by his full name, as he is a cat named AFTER Leo Tolstoi and not the actual LT, so Leo Tolstoi is not his name and last name, it’s his first name, and his last name is Hatcher, since he’s our baby, and yes, I’m fully aware of the fact that that makes me sound like a crazy cat person, yagottaproblemwithat?) pranced in the room with me. So George and I are joking around and suddenly we hear this SLAM! into the wall of something heavy…
“Something heavy” turned out to be LT. He BIT the lamp’s power cord and the shock of it slammed him into the wall. He started freaking out, crying like crazy, crouching low on the ground and walking like that, hopping around everywhere, and being generally paranoid about everything in our room (he’s still doing all of this, by the way). We called the vet, made an emergency appointment, and took him in. But not before he scratched the crap out of me, which he NEVER does. TOTALLY freaked out.
Now, let me just say one thing. They took his temperature, right? They stuck a thermometer in his butt to do it. A thermometer in my THREE POINT THREE POUND CAT. Basically, that would be the equivalent of someone taking your temperature by roughly, when you weren’t expecting it, shoving a BROOMSTICK up your butt. A fat broomstick. Needless to say, he was not pleased. And I don’t blame him.
Anyway, after the scare, turns out he might be OK, we just need to check that he’s eating and if there’s any weird behavior we need to call the vet. George keeps reassuring me that he’s “returning to normal” but THIS IS NOT NORMAL, I WANT MY LOVING KITTY BACK. This LT? He seeks affection for a couple minutes, freaks out if a piece of paper rustles, scratches the crap out of every surface of my body while trying to escape the hostile, evil paper, and makes scary crying noises while standing in the middle of the room… at nothing. And no one.
Basically, he wants to be near me all the time, but I’m terrified that someone will knock on the door or that the FAN will click the chain against the metal part or SOMETHING and he’ll go all psycho-cat on me and attach again. (Sidenote: George and I keep singing, “Psycho Kitty, qu’est-ce que c’est?” à la Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” to him.)
So basically, this whole post was written to say that I was so freaked out and upset about not being able to keep a CAT safe and keep him from biting something that could have killed him (and he’s a CAT! imagine if he was a HUMAN!)… that I am clearly not yet ready to be a parent.
So quit asking me when we’re having kids.
June 18, 2009 10 Comments
Pet Peeve #1: Organic
I cannot express how incredibly GOOFY it feels to talk to the little green camera light on your computer and then post the video. And is the sound a few seconds off for everyone, or is it just me?
June 4, 2009 15 Comments
For my birthday, George let me adopt a new baby. Presenting, Leo Tolstoi!
He is a long haired Russian Blue mix and the Russian part of that is why we chose that name for him, besides knowing we were going to pick someone in the arts to name him after. My initial pick was Yevgeny Zamyatin, the author responsible for me becoming obsessed with Science Fiction (and stories about dystopian futures) at the tender age of nine, but, ew, naming him Eugene, no matter what language it’s in, is gross. Being a Russian Blue means he’s ridiculously smart. Example? He figured out how to get into our room after we shut him out for being too energetic last night. Also, when you “discipline him” (aka, spray bottle, I know, I know, bad pet owners, but it keeps him in line without having to yell at him!) he tests you by pushing the limits a tiiiny bit to see how much you’ll let him get away with. When he does something he knows he shouldn’t do, he’ll “Meow?” at us and come into our laps, stand up and nudge our noses with his. Sly little minx.
He’s growing like crazy right now, and he’s in that awkward phase where his tail and ears are too big for his body. I LOVE THIS PHASE.
I said “let” me adopt him because I’ve been spending a lot of time alone and wanted a pet. I don’t clean poops, so a puppy was out of the question. Birds, wildddddly allergic to their poo (and they make too much noise). Anything else? Eh. I love kitties. We made sure that we’d have a baby-sitter if we both had to be out of town (Elina, you were instrumental to him letting me get LT), and I really think that what cinched the deal was that I started whining about all of this right around my birthday. (I not only know which battles to pick, I know when to pick ‘em! *winkwink*)
He’s only been with us 10 days, but I already love this little guy. He’s the most tolerant and sweet little attention monger kitty I have ever seen. Thank you, Borges!
June 4, 2009 10 Comments