Flat Tire

Yesterday, I decided I was going to do something about this bike I bought back in January. I was gearing up and went to check the air in the tires. A little low, I proceeded to “fix” the problem only to make it worse. By the end of it all, I had no air in my tires and only two options in moving forward: a) buy a new pump or b) run up to the gas station to “fill er up”. I did neither.

I have never put air in my tired before and ever since using my dad’s pressure pump and having it scare the living crap out of me, I haven’t been the same since around compressed air. 

It’s funny how being afraid to use the air compressors stopped me short from getting back on that bike and moving forward. I do that a lot, I feel. 

I’m afraid to ride a bike competitively or for extended distance because I’m worried I won’t be able to stay in for the long run. I’m afraid to have a flat and not know what to do. I’m also afraid of being last. All sorts of things stopping me short. 

I hate that about fear. Not to say I’ll never get on that bike or sell that car or buy that house or move or whatever, but that it will take me a LONG while to get there because of it.

There’s No Fun in Waiting

For the past, I don’t know, two months I’ve been obsessed with the Volvo c30. This little car stole my heart when I saw it parked outside of the strip behind Crossroads Market (or what use to be). It was navy with just lovey interior. Even though Amy described the shape of the car to be “bulbous” I still loved it, bulbous and all. 

I didn’t start my “new car” journey until I was having an in warranty job done to my Honda. I was blessed enough to have gone in when I did, because my car’s warranty expired exactly one month later. I started thinking about whether or not I wanted to get the extended warranty and then  a little thought popped into my head: get a new car. 

I looked at the Honda (because, let’s face it I love Honda) Fit and Insight. I was wanting a hatchback in a bad way. Actually, I was wanting the Volvo C30 in a bad way so nothing Honda offered me was better. One Friday, while shopping in vain for a wedding present at a store that would in fact turn out to be closed once I got there, I decided to stop by a Volvo dealer. 

“I just wanted to look”, I told myself, “It’s been a long day and you earned a little visual pleasure.” About 45 minutes later we were shaking on a not very good deal and I was borrowing the black love of my life for the weekend. Baby, does that car melt me. Elated in my own freedom and grown-up-ness in getting a deal that I wanted to show it to my parents for final approval. BAD IDEA. Not only was I shot down in mid-drive, but left crying because this one earthly possession was not mine after all. 

One embarrassing return that afternoon and credit check later, I was back in my Honda. No standard, no MP3 jack, no 2.35 turbo engine with a enough get up and go that you felt they finally managed to make the delorean in pint size. 

Since then I’ve been obsessed. I talk about it until no end. Amy has now started tuning me out and my mom makes big sighs notifying me the conversation is boring her. In short, I want it. I crave it. It’s like a flavor I can’t get out of my mouth and no gum will suffice (sorry, Jillian Michaels). Well, that was until a friend who worked for Volvo let me in on a little secret: Ever since Volvo was bought out by Ford they have the Ford promise to be flashy and fun until four years later when they start to die in the worst way. 

Dreams. Crushed.

I still held on, but now with a little more caution. Then, one lovely Saturday, I found one that compairs: the Audi A3. A five-door, hatchback with a little less turbo, but plenty of Audi promises. I’ve searched, built my own and found the prices and features relatively the same. 

Enter today. I hate today. I hate that every where I look I have people telling me “don’t buy”. “Save, save, save”, they say. I want to slap each and every one of them. 

Don’t they know about this love I have? This love given to only earthly possession that eventually find themselves broken and expensive. 

I hate this love. I hate everything about it’s green, tight little grasp that makes me feel that if I don’t get this car now I might surely die. Okay, that’s a little dramatic, but you get the idea: it’s bigger than I know how to control or want to control. 

Call me materialistic, selfish, financially screwed or economically blind. All these things I won’t deny or be offended by; in a way, I’m past all that. What I am having a hard time with is why is this stronger than I feel I can control? 

Because I’m a Jesus lover, I believe that my desire to fill a hole with earthly possession is my need to be really filling it with Jesus. Does that make sense? If not, tell me and I’ll go into further detail. 

Right now, I’ve been recounting a prayer “it’s in Your hands, it’s in Your hands, it’s in Your hands,” over and over again to remind myself God is bigger and better than this want that feels like a need. But, why is it not going away? 

I’ve been distracting myself with activities, volunteer work and friends to get this burning want off my mind. I think left to my own devices long enough I would do it. I would go up to Audi or Volvo and make the deal. I’m highly impulsive and in so many ways I like that. Right now, that’s my way of taking risks. 

I believe I was born into a “rush” mentality because I respond well under fire. I like the pressure and want the rush all the time. Perhaps, buying this lovely piece of deteriorating metal I can fill the void of wanting to move some where drastic, buying a house, getting an arm full of tattoos, starting my own business, etc. Things I think about and then push aside because they seem “crazy”. 

Long story short, I’m going crazy here with all the things I CAN’T do. What on earth can I do? Tell me, because right now I’m going crazy.

Cinco de Mayo 2

This is the second, consecutive (because if it’s your second why wouldn’t it be right after the first) year we’ve celebrated Cinco de Mayo. It started with me getting Molly (my Mexican sweet-faced dog) and has now turned into a reason to drink, like most Americans with no Mexican roots. 

Last night, we ate delicious Mexican food, had several drinks and met up with old friends. What was most interesting about the night was the conversations. Between discussing newly purchases (secretly jealous) homes, boyfriends in LA, awkward conversations about sex and ladies from Amy, talking it up about Catholic priests and books with neighboring drinking old men, and finally rock operas we had a great time. Some more than others, but then again it was a Tuesday.

Lip Gloss

There are few reliable things in this world, but one you can always count on is lip gloss. No, that bubble gum song that made one sexy scene in “Nip Tuck” (the only episode I’ve seen, I swear), but the tacky, glossy, sometimes flossy stuff we ladies love to cake on our lips.

The guarantees of lip gloss:

1. Will always get stuck in you hair, then as you try to remove the cemented hair, it smears the “pale pink” shade all over face, leaving a fresh, tacky feeling all day long.
2. Will always save those delicious crumbs from ever falling away from your mouth. You can rest a sure, no calories will escape your mouth when wearing lip gloss.
3. When wearing lip gloss, you will (unknowingly, I’m sure) pout your lips out like Renée Zellweger. Perhaps that’s why she does that? No? 
4. It will, in some form, not only get in your hair but on your clothes, car seat belt, jackets, accessories, midnight strangers, cell phones and the like. Once this expensive, high-demand product gets on your things, you can always count on a thin, gunky layer or sticky pink to always be there.
5. Will always show up on the rim of all glasses, which is always helpful in showing you whose glass is whose and exactly where to put your lips with each drink. Another good thing about this is the rimming of lip gloss helps inform you when you’ve a) had too much wine or b) just not paying attention. More than one spot on the glass  = carelessness. Tisk, tisk ladies.

 

It’s funny now we can’t get enough of this stuff, but at least there are plenty of benefits to wearing it! That’s what I tell people when they see how much I paid for it, “hey, you wouldn’t believe what this stuff can do.”