Olds Ninety-Eight

Okay. I like my car. My 1986 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency Brougham. It was my grandmother's car, bought for her by my grandfather shortly before his death in 86. Then it was my Mom's car. It's a family car, its luxury faded, a comfortable couch. As mentioned, it has a CD changer in the truck. I like it very much, thank you.

On a completely different note...the life-size crucifix I was selling for my sister's father-in-law received absolutely no bids whatsoever.

Rylands

First of all, I teach English,so I'm a bit interested in language and books. I'm also interested in my Anglo-Irish heritage, although little is known of my actual bloodline. When I poked around a bit, however, I did find some interesting info on my family's name -- first, that my direct ancestors can be dated to the early 17th century to a little town 15 miles from Stratford (home of Shakespeare). Nearby is Luxley. In other words, the area is ripe with literary/folkloric history.

Another interesting bit: The John Rylands Library houses "one of the most spectacular collections of rare books and manuscripts in the world," including the oldest known fragment from the New Testament. John Rylands, after whom the library was named, made his fortune farming cotton. It so happens that my grandfather made a name for himself farming rice and cotton, after returning from WWII. Our name itself suggests agriculture (Rye-Land), the crest featuring bundles of wheat.

Weird

Okay, my sister asked me if I'd post something for her father-in-law. And, as you can see, it's pretty freaky. There's currently a set of three for sale on Ebay.

*Added note...he first insisted that I set the reserve at 2500.00, an impossible goal (I talked him down to was 1500.00), but one he insisted the Catholics would go for...yes, he's a baptist

By the way, in case you're wondering, Jesus is actually a female mannequin whose undergone a black & decker mastectomy.

Sunlight on the cusp of spring.

We went to a new playground last week, and I took this shot of Emme. I'm proud of it.



We had an early spring break, which was very nice. So now I'm trying to get back into the right frame of mind for Huck Finn and Romeo and Juliet. And the constant yammering of teenagers.

My car died.

I've realized recently that I'm feeling younger and younger every day. Kids will make you younger. You see through their eyes, experience things anew along with them. Being with my kids in the backyard can make me feel like a young Walt Whitman, like life really is full of everyday wonder. I believe in the power of children to open eyes and speak truth.

But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about insecurity, about unhealthy regression. I sometimes feel like I've lost the ability to function properly as an adult. And that's not good.

Take my car, for instance. The engine seized up. The car's been smoking for weeks, but I put off dealing with it. Yeah, yeah...no time, no money. Even one of my students said, "What happened? You let it run out of oil?" Wise ass, I thought. "No," I said. "I didn't LET it. It must have developed a leak." Like air from a balloon? Unlikely.

Now, I'm stuck with the decision of whether to pay for a used engine (with 90k miles) or to "cut my losses," as my dad says. In the meantime, I've been given my grandmother's 1986 Olds 98. It's cream and has under 70k on it. It's a grandma car, and I feel like a grandma driving it. Or rather I feel like a kid. A kid who needs to learn some humility.

What the hell am I complaining about? It runs, right? So what if it's missing hubcaps, allowing pebbles from the road to collect and jangle in stereo when the windows are down. So what if the armrests are about to fall off and the interior smells like an ashtray. It's got a CD changer in the trunk. It's free. I can take the mini-van to gigs. The mini-van. So, I'm no longer cool. I realize that, but does it have be so incredibly obvious?

I suppose I'll get used to the car. I should be more thankful for a solution to the problem. The problem is that I feel like I'm in high school again. And that's not a good thing. I thought that I'd have my shit together by now. I thought I DID have it together.