BUYING THE NEW CAR

Its a coincidence. Today is the birthday of my oldest, the first-born. Last year he came from Texas to help sell the old car and buy a new one because I was obviously not competent to carry this off. The old car made me feel sad, not because of the dimple-like indentation on the side but because I didn't like to ride in it anymore. Of course, my son noticed the side right away and I had to tell him about the gas pump.He seemed to take it in his stride. He is an engineer and very calm and steady and not inclined to be critical.

We spent two days looking for the right car. It couldn't be Japanese so that shortened the choices. That was because my husband was in the Navy in what we refer to as "the War", and he never got over his intense dislike for all things Japanese. We talked to him over and over about how the Japanese were our friends, and how they made these wonderful cars better than any American could do, but he wouldn't buy it.

When we parked the car at the first dealer, I thought if we put it in the shade the salesman wouldn't notice the dimpled side because it really wasn't that noticable. But he had the eye of an eagle when it came to making a trade-in allowance. He said that was body damage and they couldn't use it on the lot. Right away the value fell--I think about $3000 but my son did some hard bargaining at the end that helped. I couldn't have done that, but my son said I helped inadvertedly. I got very tired in the middle of this talk and said "I want to go home". That speeded up the compromise, my son said. The next day we got the car, a lively little car with a hatchback, all American. My son promised he would not tell the other children about the gas pump and I trusted him.

I remember the day he was born. Things were very different then. I had something called "Twilight Sleep". It was a shot and some pills and you woke up many hours later and there was this little baby. Then, get this, you stayed in the hospital for five days with people bringing you flowers. I think this method had a lot to say for it.

My Backyard

Here's the view I share with the bobcat.

WOULDN'T YOU THINK YOU WOULD GET OVER FEAR OF THE DENTIST?

I would like to finish my pumping gas problem (which still goes on) but something else has come up. You know, when you get pretty old, your teeth are also getting old. No matter how much time and money have been expended on your mouth, it never seems to reach a point of stasis. You can be eating spinach salad, as I was, and a large part of tooth falls onto the plate. That means a crown, and a fearful visit for me.

Dentristry has come a long way and I recognize that, but I have a phobia which goes back to childhood. I had many cavities, for no known reason, and my father believed in taking care of all of them. Every Saturday we would drive into Cincinnati for a visit to this sadistic torturer, Dr. Fetter. It must have been before the discovery of novacaine, or perhaps that Dr. Fetter liked to see young children suffer because of some preverse quirk of his own. At any rate, it was agony and I have never gotten over it. I am not afraid of libeling Dr. Fetter as I am sure he is long since dead and you cannot libel the dead. Did you know that? (I once did work on defamation cases, so I know it). I hope Dr. Fetter is in one of the circles of Hell, you pick the one.
At any rate, I am set to go to the dentist next week and as the day grows near I become increasingly apprehensive. I am afraid of the gooey stuff the dentist uses to make an impression - it seems to take forever to set up, during which time I am in panic. I don't know whether to take two valium or just one before I go. I plan to take my iPod nano and put it on cheerful pieces like "Strike Up the Band".

A BOBCAT COMES FOR COFFEE

More about pumping gas (see Pumping Gas I and II) because that little debacle is not yet over. But, in the interim, I have had a guest for coffee. Did I mention that I live out in the desert? When I came in from running an errand yesterday I found a bobcat sound asleep on the porch, right in front of the glass door that leads outside. I have seen bobcats before in the wash, but never one just six inches away. I don't know how she got up on the porch because there is a three foot railing around it, but apparently that was no problem. She was very relaxed -stretched out just as a housecat would be.

I got to examine her closely - bobcats are the size of a large cat or a smallish dog. They have sort of fawn colored coats with black spots and very big lynx-like ears. On the back of the ears there is a white spot. The front paws are big and powerful looking. All in all, a beautiful animal who looked at me with total aplomb and who had no thought of leaving. I'm sorry to say I was a bit frightened at firat and tried to get the project manager's office to help me. No help there, since everyone in Arizona is told not to bother the wild animals. After several hours I got up the spirit to make some loud noises and she left - looking back over her shoulder as if to say "Why me?" After all, it is her home and I am intruding.

PUMPING GAS - DOWN TWO

After my first little problem with the gas pump, I was wary but not totally discouraged. This time I went to a different station (incognito) and tried again. For some reason I decided it would be good to draw up close to the pump. Unfortunately I am not a good judge of distance - sometimes I think I should not be even driving a car because I don't have a gift for it. Nonetheless, I heard a small scraping noise and I thought it was time to get out of there. When I got home I saw that I had scraped all along the side of my white Buick, leaving a wide red racing stripe. I think this was from a red pipe that those wily gas people have put alongside the gas pumps. Why, I do not know.

I took the car to a detail place and they were able to erase the red paint, but there was a slight dimple-like indentation along the side that remained. THIS WAS SOMETHING YOU DEFINITELY DO NOT WANT TO TELL THE CHILDREN ABOUT. And I didn't.

PUMPING GAS -- DOWN ONE

As soon as the funeral party had left, I had my first challenge in this new life--pumping gas. My husband always took care of the cars. That was his bailiwick and I don't think he ever wanted me messing around with a gas pump. And where are the old fashioned "service stations?" They don't exist anymore, at least where I live. Those stations served a good purpose. They furnished countless high school boys with their first jobs -- cheerful attandants who would wash your windows, check the tires, and look under the hood. I don't know why we had to do away with all that, but I do know that I am not an appropriate person to service a car.

But I had to start and start right away. Several friends gave me lessons and it didn't seem so hard - just put the nozzle in the tank and pay. I boldly put my credit card and my Safeway card in the pump, put the hose in the proper recepticle and pulled it out in triumph. Unfortunately I was still pressing on the lever or whatever it was and the gas was still going through the hose. It spewed out in a geyser all over the tarmac, and all over me. The attendant(if that is what you call him,) came out of his little locked kiosk and he was upset. I think it was because he had to clean up the gasoline on the tarmac. I reeked of gas and when I went on to the dentist for my appointment, the receptioist said I should go home and shower and change clothes, because I was also smelling up the dentists office. Needless to say I did not return that day. My clothes still smell of gasoline, and are very stiff. I determined I would try again, because what can you do?

Instructions for Un-assisted Living

Once there were two of us. That is, until one night he woke up with a pain in his chest and by the time morning came in an emergency room there was only one of us left. But I don't want to dwell on that now. It's more about what happens next.

Not only is it very very sad, and you have many things to brood about that you could have done differently, but a whole new challenge awaits you. That is what this blog is about - how to accomplish things you have never done before and do not really understand. Things like how to sell an old car and buy a new car without paying too much; how to open a wine bottle or a pickle jar; how to get that hard plastic wrap off the razor blade packaging; how to drive on an interstate populated by huge threatening sixteen wheelers; and the simplest thing of all- how to pump gas.

All these things must be accomplished while staying moderately healthy, moderately cheerful, and within an aura of silence. The key to this is that you must not let the out-of-town children know about any mishaps, because nothing good can come of that.