Baby You Can Drive My Car

Woke up to the ringing phone at 5:34. Cliff was giving Steven a wake-up call. Steven needed to drive Cliff to the DART station in order to use Cliff's van to drive to school and a zit dr. appt.

Had to drop my car off at the mechanic at 8:00. The circuit board replacement two weeks ago did not cure my manic depressive turn signal. Dropped the car off, then had a lovely walk home in the cool morning air, and felt virtuous about "exercising". Cleaned house a little, and prepared a delicious lunch for Steven's gang that comes here every Friday. I made a dozen giant turkey-bacon-tomato-swiss sandwiches on Kaiser rolls. (Now I'm wondering why I capitalized Kaiser, but not swiss!) There was a relish plate, chips, red grapes, ripe pears, and three kinds of mustard. I know, I know! My father, the Condiment King, would be embarrassed by such a small array. And also, there were Dreyer's fruit popsicles for dessert.

My friends of weememories.com were working at a craft fair. They called at noon to see if I was coming to visit them as I often do, and would I pick up fast food for them. Alas, I explained, I had no car, but I had a lunch and that's a start. So I made two box lunches, and Shawn drove over to pick them up.

Instead of the usual six teenagers, eight arrived. The band kids had early lunch for a change, but they had to do without cold Dr. Pepper. Eight sixteen year-olds fills this condo! They devoured all the food, wrote up a physics lab, discussed religion, world events, computer games, and people who drive them crazy at school. I kept out of the way by cutting out photos of eyes, noses, mouths, and ears from old magazines. All my students will be doing a face/mask unHalloween/Halloween project this week. It takes a lot of eyeballs.

Steven left school, drove to the zit dr., drove home, put coolant in his dad's smoking vehicle, and got changed for work. The mechanic called and said my car was ready. Steven dropped me off on his way to work. My car was not out front. The guy who isn't named Cletus, but should be, told me the guy who isn't named Goober called the wrong person and my car wasn't ready but would be shortly. I read magazines about bass fishing, hunting, and classic Chevys for 45 minutes, and started to wonder if the guy who isn't named Goober would actually finish it today. Darryl's other brother Larry told me that Goober had my car "fixed", but when Cletus drove it out front it got manic depressive again. Now Goober is going to have to order another circuit board, because the lights and the circuit board "aren't talking to each other". Okay, fine. I walked home again, home again, jiggity jig, with a ride from Shawn for the last leg.

The day vanished like the sandwiches, but moon-flowers are blooming on the patio. Have a good weekend, ladies and gentlemen.