Wow-ness of life and parents

So I made a call to my mom recently to make sure she got my message about Mother's Day and a happy anniversary (which happened to land on the weekend this year). She had. In the course of conversation I told her I wasn't really working on getting my van running again and was considering selling her (the van) for money to go to school, buy a new car, pay bills, etc., since I had recently gotten laid off from my job and life our monetary situation had hit a downward slope and we were resting at the bottom for a bit.

She asked me how much I was lacking going to school for. Her reaction after I told her: "You're not going to school for 500 dollars?! That's it?." Mouth agape, I said yes, thinking "That's it? 500 is not just 'that's it?' - especially when you're down to half you're income and bills are still full scale." After I confirmed my "meager" shortage, she said she could wire me some money so I could attend and not put off school for another semester, like I had last semester due to similar circumstances. Yay Mom! Tears were shed a little, and yes I was at work, and no, I didn't care who saw. I was happy dammit, and I love my mother.

A couple of hours later, mom called me back, life's took another little turn upslope. Her boyfriend had recently purchased a new truck (with payments for the next forever included...blah), and no longer needed his old car. It would be another six years older before he could give it to one of his own little ones to drive around, and the car is already a decade old. Well, mom and he agreed to donate it to my cause. So next weekend I'm going to travel home and pick up my new car! New-ish, at least, and I'm totally good with that!

Also, Darbi's parent should be coming down home with us, and finally our parents will meet. At least that's the plan. We've been trying to arrange a meeting for them a long time running, and now the time draws nigh.

Life should be back on track pretty soon. I'll be driving to school in my new car, and then after class, off to drive pizzas around at a job I actually love, and pays pretty decent (if I can save my tip money and not spend it right away).

And, it's raining today! YES!

Life is good. I love you, mom.

The gods hate me.

Never fails....everytime there's something that needs fixing on my van that requires ample time out side under the sky to complete, it rains. Not just a little sprinkle today either, but downpour. It may only last a little while (hopefully), but my point is that it ALWAYS does this when I need to do some work on the van. And I don't have enough room to really get my van in the garage.

AAARRRRGGHHH !! ! !! ! !!

Grumbles and gripes...

.....All the way from Arlington, TX


After installing the correct starter, and travelling all the way up towards Dallas for Scarborough Ren Faire, I started running into a few more problems. Started out seeming like a fuel system issue, and ended up believing the engine to be siezed. Either way, Molly doesn't start, more over her engine doesn't even turn by hand. Ugh.

So.....after I finish dusting the house and spraying the yard for fleas (yet another problem we have) I'm going to start dismantling, removing and rebuilding one poor engine for a tired ol' Volkswagen microbus named Molly. Poor thing...and poor me.

I'll be taking pictures throughout, and hopefully get around to relating the story and possible problems I run across. Hopefully all goes well, instead.

Wish me luck !

Always...
Nekkid Monkey Boy

Random snippet from my past:

When I was growing up, my dad's form of discipline was his belt - which he always wore. I was a pretty good kid for two reasons *ONE* I didn't want to disappoint my parents and more importantly *TWO* fear of the belt. I'm sure some of you out there understand that last reason.

Here's an embarrassing story about just how much these fears were seated within my head.

****************

So I was hanging out with my dad while he was talking with a friend of his out by the fence one day. I can't remember what the issue was, but for some reason I started to throw a little hissy fit about something. My dad told me to stop whining or go in the house.

Well, I kept pouting and sniveling and being a little bastard. My dad reached up and took a leaf from our sycamore tree. Not a branch...not a twig...not even a few leaves. Just one, big, soft, floppy leaf. And then proceeded to beat my little tiny butt with it. You wouldn't believe how hard I was crying, and screaming about how it hurt...

After about 4 or 5 swats with the leaf of deadly terror, he stopped, grabbed me by the arm, and told me to stop crying, and look at him. Which of course I did with only minimal sniffling and wiping of snot from my nose. Dad then proceeded to show me what he was beating me with and asked me if it really hurt or not. I thought about saying yes, but I would have felt dumber than I already did.

Looking back I laugh at how silly I was, and how deep the fear of disappointing my parents ran. It would be nice if kids nowadays had that fear and respect.

I miss my dad, Jimmy.
Pete "Blind-dog" Jones (1939 - 1999)

Bueno y mal

So the week is about half over. Life is a little less shit.

I found out on Monday that temporarily I am not needed at work. Although I did not much like the job (or in particular my management), it also means no paycheck for a while. And now that I have plenty of time to investigate my van's malfunction, I think I know what the problem is; however I am currently lacking sufficient funds to buy the right part.

Also means I have time to do yard work...ugh. Necessary evil. And I must get back to it. Hmph.

Seriously!

Sometimes, life just deals you shit. I hate that.