Drive, They Said

So, I'm searching for a new car for the kidlets.  This has taken me into the Craigslist domain.  And oh, what an adventure it is!  People don't return emails, phone calls, or messages.  Gosh, it's just like online dating but without the final prize at the end.  Today, though, I think we found a car.

We?  I say we because I have my brother dragged into this endeavor with me.  Why?  Because I'm nervous about buying a car on my own.  He knows what to look for, and how to push a car to its limits.  That's why I'm bringing him with me.  Do I feel like the village idiot when buying a car?  Most certainly yes, especially with a used car.  My brother knows the questions to ask, the things under the hood to prod at, and where to crawl under the body of the car.

I don't want to jinx it, but I found an almighty Volvo.  Yes, you know me and Volvos.  It's solid, except for the breaks.  (I can hear you now.  "Mausigal!  The breaks?!  That's like an elemental part of the car!")  It's ok.  I'll get them fixed.  New tires.  A/C is running ok.  Windows working.  Just enough dents and scratches to make it look like an awesome teen car.  I love it!  I want it!  Perhaps that's part of the problem.  I'm driving a 2015 Volvo, and in my heart I want to drive a clunker.  I want the car with 150,000 miles, proving to everyone "That it's a Volvo and it can go the extra mile!"

Even if I had the money, I wouldn't want them in something new.  I'd still want Kidlet A and Kidlet B in a clunker.  There's something so quintessential about the high school experience, owning a clunker car.  There's nothing better than a Volvo wagon for that!  I still remember JF's Volvo wagon in college - the "Dead Sled," covered with Greatful Dead stickers on the back.  I hope my son's car becomes as emblematic as hers, complete with stickers, paint, graffiti - you name it!  It's theirs!  Let it become an icon!

I am truly blessed that I can give my kids a car.  I've been saving for awhile now, putting aside money each month towards this.  I didn't have a car  in high school.  My parents drove me, or I borrowed the family car on weekends.  Hopefully they'll appreciate it.

Bring on the new wheels!  Go Swedes!

Heart-Shaped Swiss

I believe in small miracles.  Yes, the picture of Jesus in the laminate.  Things like that get me all excited.  So, you can imagine my happiness this morning when I found a little heart in the middle of Kidlet B's Swiss cheese for his sandwich.  Can you see it above?  That little heart?  It's just perfect!  So small, so loving, so unassuming.  I just wanted to scream with joy!  I couldn't have cut a heart that beautiful!  And it was all Kidlet B's!

I bet he dove into the sandwich and never looked back.  Never even noticed the heart.  Because he is a hungry sixteen year old boy.  And I am a nostalgic forty-something who likes to see symbolism in such things as license plates.

'Cause you never know?  Right?  I once was on my way to a date and saw a license plate that said, "BLIEVE."  I needed that at just that time.  Why?  Because I was so down on dating and the whole process.  Things got better.  And seeing "BELIEVE" turned my attitude around.  I believe in signs.

Do you?  Do you believe there are little signs that change our day, change our outlook?  Perhaps it's just our outlook that sees them.  If I wasn't looking at license plates, I never would have seen the "BLIEVE" one.  My mind was open to the possibilities of a signal, and it arrived.  Whoa.  Now I sound like "The Secret."

Kidlet B still isn't home from school, so I haven't asked him yet if he saw all the love in his sandwich.  At least he will know his mom cared.