The Very Competitive Salad Competition

My daughter is a huge fan of creating contests, giving elaborate orders to those around her, and making dinner plans on our behalf. So it didn't come as much of a surprise when, while making dinner the other night, Evie declared that Paulie and I were to have a very serious salad making competition the following night. "Why salad?" I asked. I assumed it was because I was at that very moment making a salad, so she was just going with a visual impulse. Instead she said "for a contest, and for health. So we can have both."

Smart kid. 

Text from Paulie, 3.5 minutes before I left work

I am in general not a very competitive person (read: this is something said by people who don't realize just how competitive they actually are), so I forgot about our contest until about 3 minutes before I was due to leave work for home. I hadn't planned out my salad yet, but I figured, no big deal, right?

It soon became clear, however, that Paulie was taking this thing seriously. 

As soon as he walked in the door, he took on a warrior's stance and declared that no children be allowed into the kitchen during the preparing of the salads, lest they choose the winner based on favoritism alone. With kids sufficiently banished, we set to work. 

I decided to make a 'know your audience' salad, with a couple of things thrown in that the kids don't like so it wouldn't seem like blatant suck-upery. While I was steaming my green beans, Paulie disappeared for a while. When he came back, I wasn't too worried:

Fresh-trimmed baby lettuce? Meh. 

Then when I went to the sink to rinse my tomatoes, I caught sight of this pile of stuff: 

Flowers and mint? Oh hell no...he...didn't.

I mean, the guy plans on putting flowers into his salad?! Come on - totally cheating. But hey, I knew I could still pull it together. I rolled my shoulders back and opened a can of black olives: my secret weapon. Around this time, Evie bumped her way into the kitchen with her eyes squeezed shut, and dropped this reminder onto the table: 

"Remember be competitive" 

She's kind of a task-master.

Since I am a very good rule-follower I took her instructions super seriously. Every time Paulie looked over to my work station and asked "oh, are you putting those sliced almonds in your salad?" or "are you using that feta?" I was like "BACK OFF, BITCH! All of these things are miiiiiiine!" Eventually I let my guard down enough to glance over my shoulder, and I saw that Paulie was beginning to plate his salads. 

My boyfriend: Mr. Fancy Pants

Needless to say, I was not encouraged. Evie loves avocado! Maybe that was his secret weapon? The bastard! *Deep Breath* I knew I had to stay focused...head in the game, Janik, head in the game. I tossed my salad together and thought it looked pretty damn good. 

Then, I made the rookie mistake of checking in to see what was happening over at Paulie's work station. 

You've got to be kidding me

Oh, really? Yeah. Okay. I see how this is gonna go down. Resigned to failure, I begrudgingly plated my own salad, then we set the table and called the kids in to judge the fruits and vegetables of our labor. It didn't take long before my frown...turned upside down. 

He is NOT pleased.

This one isn't so sure, either

Yep - the kids hated Paulie's salad! Woo hooooooooo!!! Sure, they liked mine only slightly more than his and still didn't want to eat the majority of it, but still. All that counts here is WINNING, amiright?

"I don't like this either, but I dislike it less than the pretty one"

As soon as Jonah had eaten a respectable amount of each salad, he said "so, um...where's...dinner?" Imagine his immense disappointment when I pulled the broccoli and cauliflower gratin out of the oven! Oh man, he was super bummed, heh heh. Luckily we had a bag of 'I'm sure these things don't expire even though the sell-by date was six months ago' frozen pork sausage patties in the freezer, which both kids fell upon like a pack of wild dogs after a long winter. 

While they ate, Paulie plotted our rematch. The next competition, much to both kids' delight, will be a Steak-Off. Since I basically never even eat steak and have no freaking idea how to cook it am a thoughtful and giving girlfriend and don't want to hurt my boyfriend's pride, I think I'll let him win that one. 

No guarantees, though. 

Important Update on The Pajama Situation!

UPDATE!

Several weeks ago I wrote about not having a proper pair of pajamas, and how terrible that was. You can read about how terrible it was HERE. Or you can just trust me. 

Here is the look I was dreaming about: 

Apparently my (enter exceedingly complimentary adjective which I haven't already used here) boyfriend thought to himself 'hmm, Amanda has a birthday coming up in a few weeks...' then got all Magnum PI up on his computer and found the exact pair of super-classy pajamas I'd used as an example in my post!

Well, almost exact. Really really close. This pair was, I guess you could say...white. 

I was like "um, have you seen me eat food?" which I quickly corrected by saying "oh my gosh! Thank you so much, I love them!!" *hug* "but, um, you have seen me eat food, right?"

He took a moment to reflect on all of the times he's seen me eat. Or gotten a text from me regarding spilling salsa down my bra or any other such examples of my slovenly habits. "Yeah, good point," he agreed. "But they were all out of blue! Well, the blue is back ordered. I guess everyone read your blog and there was a big rush on the blue ones you featured."

"Yes...yes, that seems reasonable." Sadly, I had him return the jammies. 

Since that time I have continued to sleep like a commoner in the day's leftover shirts and any variation of casual pantwear. Sigh, woe is me. 

Until......

She's very thoughtful

Yesterday a package arrived in the mail! I couldn't open it right away because of the whole 'feeding kids' thing, but as soon as I was able, I ripped that sucker open and inside I found another pair of pajamas. Tra la laaaa! I immediately put them on and got right down to the not-busy task of living the life of leisure I always imagined I was meant to live. 

I tried to take a picture, but I couldn't because our dog Mesa was busy breaking my new sleepwear in with her slobber and fur so that there was no way I could ever return them.

I know you're dying to see them, right?! Here they are! 

I look JUST like that model, I know.

To say that I love my new pajamas would be an understatement. I like, love-love them. I was super bummed when it was time to get dressed to drive the kids to school this morning, which Paulie noticed and said "you don't have to change, just wear the jammies!" Silly Paulie! He doesn't know that school drop-off is a very serious affair and we moms are being judged at every turn. Since I already don't brush my hair or teeth for this event, I know wearing pajamas would be completely unacceptable.

Shhhhhh...

So I put on some jeans and hid my jammie shirt under a jacket. And then took some selfies in a stranger's front yard.

This right here is a pj top, ladies

I was so excited that not only had I been given the perfect pair of pajamas, but the pajama top doubled as a bonafide shirt, I had to show off. I vroomed over to my friend Suzanne's house, where her mind was blown by the awesomeness of my ensemble. Needless to say, she had to take a picture - not because she's a professional photographer, but because I asked her to and she complied. She got really into it, too: "I'm gonna get all artsy n' shit here, lean up against that wall. Put your hands back, do this, do that...." The final result is okay, as long as none of my old Barbizon teachers see that foot positioning OMG amiriiiiiight?! I blame them though, for telling a 5'2" girl with a scar on half of her face that she could be a model. That's what you get, Barbizon!! Look at that sloppy footwork!

Yes. Yes I am this super cool all the time.

But I digress. 

As you can plainly see I am thrilled with my new pajamas-slash-shirt. And I have once again let Barbizon down. And I don't look anything like the pajama model. 

But you know what? I don't care. Because I'm comfy, I'm matchy, and the dog still loves to rest her head in my crotch. Happy five-weeks-late Birthday to me!

The To-Do List

I had yesterday off from work at Sprout, which is a very rare occurrence and warrants a fun mix of trying to force myself to relax and also attempt to check a few things off of my ever-growing to-do list. I got through a few things (in fact, I’m accomplishing #3 right now!), and yet the list still looks daunting and makes me want to crawl into bed with the crappy book I’m reading and let it put me to sleep like it always does. For nothing other than my need for validation, here is the list, in no particular order:

1. Pick up shoes from the cobbler (I dropped them off over a month ago, but he's always closed when I'm not at work)

2. Sweep entire house

3. Write (in progress!) ((yes this counts!))

4. Mail Evie's letter to her penpal (it's been like 3 weeks, oooooops)

Mail for everybody!!

5. Redeem massage gift certificate (I've, uh, had this thing since November - what nincompoop can't find one damn hour for a free massage?!)

6. Finish writing this year's will

7. Check out sale at Cheese Shop

8. Shave legs (I know. I know. I can't believe it either!)

9. Wake up early enough to call the clinic that takes Medi-Cal, get weird armpit lump checked out

One of these things is not like the other

10. Trim other hedge (I found 10 minutes two weeks ago to trim one of them, but not both)

11. Return neighbor's drink container thingy

12. Buy lightbulbs, hand towels and a new cordless phone for Sprout

13. Replace the 11 burned-out light bulbs at Sprout

14. Find/book tickets for Michigan trip. Try not to punch anything/cry/scream

15. Review list of goals - add/amend/assess

16. Send a Santa Rosa postcard to that kid for her school project - DUE IN MAY!!

17. Finish crappy, typo-filled book I'm reading so I can start something more worthy of precious time consumption

18. Look through photo albums for baby picture of Evie for midwife's retirement party

19. Plan clothing swap in lieu of shopping for new clothes

20. Clean baby chicken poop off of living room floor

I’m going to stop at 20. Rest assured, there are more. Especially considering I didn’t put ‘nap’ in there. Or ‘Take a deep breath’. Or ‘Unclench jaw’. Or even ‘Everything is going to work out just fine’.

It might be time to make a new list.

Two Days of Yes

I asked my daughter a question the other day and her response was "mmmm...I'll think about it. Then it happened again later. I noticed a variation on this happening over the next couple of increasingly frustrating days until I finally realized that she was giving answers that she hears all the time. From me.

Ugh. 

When I took some time to pay attention, I noticed that I say ‘no’ a lot. To be fair (or, defensive?) my kids ask for a lot of candy (no, it's bad for you!), dangerous freedom (no, the park has tweakers in it, you may not go alone!) and media time (your eyes get all buggy and no, no, no!). 

But sometimes they ask to go on bike rides, to go swing together at the park, or for quarters to buy trinkets at the grocery store. Often I find myself saying no to these things, too. What the heck?! For example, if Evie had asked me if we could make clothes for the baby chicks, I would have automatically said no. Luckily she asked Paulie instead who of course said "we sure can!" then dropped everything he was doing and got to work. 

I realized I needed to change my ‘no’ habit - and the best way to do that was to go cold turkey. I decided for the rest of the day, I'd say Yes.

It started out easy enough: Evie wanted a lollipop before lunch. “Sure, sweetie.” Jonah asked if I could help him figure out Paulie’s computer password. “Heck yeah!” Evie asked for a dollar so she could buy something at a garage sale, even though she had the exact same item at home. “Okay, having two might be fun, huh?”

Soon I realized that I had to be really creative with re-direction, because once the kids caught a whiff of this new-improved mom and her consenting ways, they went straight for the gold. “Can we watch Netflix for the rest of the day? If we agree on what to watch and we don’t argue?”

Oh boy.

“Hmm, man that does sound like fun, doesn’t it?” ThinkThinkThink “How about this: I could use some help clearing the debris off the sidewalk when I trim the hedges, if you’ll help me with that, then we’ll revisit this question. Sound good?” And amazingly, they said yes.

I decided to try saying Yes for a second day. I liked the way it felt, once I got used to it. And the challenge of pausing before I trigger-answered the kids’ requests was a nice change - it forced me to slow down, consider, and use the creative side of my brain when I really wanted to say no.

“Mom, can I climb through the back of the car into my seat?” “Sure!”

“Do you think I could get two new shirts instead of just one?” “Dude, YES, that’s the coolest shirt ever!”

“Want me to help filling wine bottles?” “That would be great!”

I have to say, the practice of saying Yes is super hard! It extended beyond the kids, too - Paulie asked if I would drive home after a late night; the teenager asked me for fifty whole cents and if I could proofread his girlfriend’s History paper; some other things were asked that I’m sure I said yes to but I just can’t remember now...you get the point.

It was a fun experiment. By 'fun' I mean it's exhausting being agreeable all the time, but it was a joy seeing my kids' looks of wonder and amazement at this new and improved mama they found before them. I'm glad I took the time to stop and pay attention to what I was saying and why, and I'd like to continue to implement more thoughtful answers to the requests being lobbed at me left and right all the live-long day.

But the All Yes All the Time stuff? Yeah, I'm done with that baloney now.

Finally.

Spring Chickens!

It's Springtime, and we all know what that means! Our chickens should be putting out in the whole 'egg' department. At this point, I'd say they're doing a so-so job. I can't blame them too much, though...I mean, these girls are getting old.

Our Golden Girls: Neko, Penny and Nickel

So we did what any egg-needy family would do: we got more chickens. Yes I am aware that eggs are sold at farmer's markets and in stores all over town, but we prefer to eat eggs from our own back yard. That way we know what's going into them: broccoli stalks, leftover pasta, the occasional uneaten taco, toast crusts, and all kinds of fun food that would otherwise be wasted. That's right - we turn our kitchen scraps into eggs. It's a miracle!

We were all extremely delighted about getting some new chicks because let's face it, people...baby chicks are adorable! The only member of our family who wasn't so sure was our dog, Mesa. Upon first meeting the babies, she immediately tried to eat one. I'm guessing she thought it was a tennis ball and just wanted to play, but either way we quickly made it clear that these were not snacks and were not to be eaten or tossed around for fun.

Then we set to work helping her understand that these were her new sisters and she needed to love them. Gently.

Look! A new friend!

Mesa wasn't sure if she was allowed to come near. She was like, "is this a trick? Are you holding out this treat for me and then you're not going to let me eat it? What's wrong with you?! YOU'RE A MONSTER!"

Friiieeeeends!! 

"I don't know, man. This seems fishy. How do I know I can trust you? I mean sure, that's my nature because I'm a dog, but come on lady. That thing looks delicious. What is this 'friend' thing you speak of?"

Friends...?

"Just because I'm coming closer doesn't mean I'm going to love this damn thing."

Friends!

"I mean, it's cute and all, I'll give you that. And so fluffy! Heh, listen to it go 'cheep cheep' like that. Jeez, adorbs, amiright?"

OKAY I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE MY BFF!

"I love her! I love her so much! *kiss*!"

Now Mesa is thrilled to have three new sisters to hang out with in the back yard once they've grown enough to join their bigger brethren. How Neko, Penny and Nickel are going to feel about these wee babes once we introduce them is another story. 

To be continued...

The Motherlode of Bling

Apparently, there are women who walk among us who own a lot of jewelry. I am not one of these women - I tend to take a liking to one item at a time and then wear it every day for a few months, until I forget to one day, and then I forget for pretty much ever. I have a little tray on my dresser which holds the few things I keep in regular rotation, and it takes up less than a square foot of my space.

So you can imagine my surprise when I peeked into the innocent-looking bag given to Evie last weekend by her Auntie Ani, which she described as 'just some old jewelry'. Inside was a literal shit-ton of gold and silver and sparkles and animal prints and, *gasp*, and...I can't go on. "Whoa,"was my first reaction.

I let the bag sit on the kitchen table for a day until, during our bedtime ritual, Evie interrupted to ask if I could get something out of the bag for her. "Mama can you find this necklace I saw - it has a plus sign on it, but one side is like, longer?"

"You mean a cross?"

"Yeah yeah, a cross. And it has sparkles in it, like shiny clear...diamonds? Can you find it so I can wear it to school tomorrow?"

"Sure thing sweetie." Oh, what a naive fool I am.

I went downstairs, peered into the bag, and saw an intimidating mass of tangled chains, enormous earrings, dozens upon dozens of bracelets, countless rings and a random pair of sunglasses. After a few minutes of digging around I found the cross. I set to the big task of untangling it - and that is where I spent every spare moment I had over the next several days.

The fruit of my labor

You see, untangling things is my specialty (read: I'm a little OCD about it), and once focused on the project of doing so, I must finish. A quick look at the above photo might give you an idea of the tangle-potential of the jewelry in that bag. And that's not even all of it - side note: if anyone gets a gift of jewelry from the teenager any time soon, you'll know where it came from. 

I decided that this was far too much jewelry for an 8-year-old without pierced ears, and I would have to find a way to carefully organize it all so that it didn't get retangled before she got a chance to enjoy it, so given is she to throwing stuff into maddeningly random piles around her room.

Can you guess which pair I'll be trying to rock soon?

Of course, there were things I knew she'd want to utilize in her wardrobe stylings immediately:

OMG Gold Bow Bracelet - adorbs.

Notice how nicely NOT tangled these are...

After stacking the bajillions of bangles, I was finally finished:

Now for the daunting problem of figuring out how to organize all of this stuff so that we can have our kitchen table back. Women with masses of jewelry, what are your secrets?! I have a feeling that Pinterest is going to be my best friend today...which is awesome because we all know how much I love a DIY craft project!

In the meantime, I have some accessorizing to play around with:

I think it works

But seriously - please leave any tips, suggestions, ideas on organizing all of this shizz in the comments below. Thanks!

Love Notes

My daughter is all kinds of loving me lately.

I know this shouldn't be newsworthy information, but it is. Trust me. Since birth this girl has been able to go from sweet, fun-loving goofball of adorableness to head-spinning screamer of everything-is-unfairness at the drop of a hat, much to the bewilderment and confusion of all those around her. When I say 'all those around her' I mean anyone who is nearby to witness her acting this way toward me, because by all accounts I'm the only one with which she shares this joyful tradition.

People tell me that she only lets loose with her tirades around me because I'm her mother, and I'm the only person she feels truly comfortable unloading all of her pent-up wackadoodle emotions onto because she inherently knows that I love her until the end of time no matter damn what. And lets face it, that is true, so lucky me!

I never really know what mood she's going to be in when we encounter each other on any given day - sometimes she wakes up happy, sometimes she wakes up ready to collect heads. Who knows why? No one. No one knows why. We all just have to put on a smile, strap on extra jetpacks of patience and hope for the best. Again, I say 'we all' when I mean 'anyone who has the good fortune to be around me during these moments'.

She loves to mash her face against my face

Over the past several months however, Evie has been totally into me. It. Is. Awesome. She tells me how much she misses me when we aren't together, and I know she isn't just playing me because this is backed up by Paulie and her Aunties, who hear the same. She and I plan elaborate Evie and Mama activities, she insists I sit next to her at the dinner table, she asks if she can help with the dishes, she asks my opinion on any number of things she couldn't have cared less to ask about before. We talk for hours about life, love and stuffed animals.

In short: the kid finally likes me! I suspect it might have something to do with my working more, and/or taking a class one evening a week, both of which prevent me from being at her beck and call every moment of the day and thus forcing her to realize how good she's had it for so many years. Win!

It is entirely possible that I am imagining that reasoning, though. She might just be in a 'I Love Mom' phase. As shown below, on both the cover and final page of a book she recently made me:

There was one other page to the book, which went a little something like this:

She makes me 'laght' too!

Now, sure, these books and drawings have been coming at me left and right. A quick look at the calendar on which she records her favorite part of each day reads "Seeing my Mama," "Spending time with Mama," and "MAMA TIME!!!" But lest you think she's just trying to butter me up so I'll let her eat more candy or take her to get her nails did, I found proof that she's being sincere.

Before you judge - I found this OPEN, with the marker still inside of it, and facing upright. She'd left it on the coffee table and I was cleaning up in preparation for some guests. You all know that I revere the diary as a personal and sacred place, but I couldn't help but notice what she'd written:

The next page is equally charming and mom-loving Needless to say I closed it right up and put it away in her room like any privacy-respecting mother would do.

I am going to ride this wave of love for as long as I can - I'm sure it's going to extend from now until well past her teenage years. Or, on second thought, I'm pretty sure it's going to last FOREVER. *love!*

The Big Birthday FAIL

Keeping my (self-appointed) title of 'Best Girlfriend in the World' isn't always easy. Take Paulie's birthday, for example. Here is a list of all the ways I failed to pull off my intended Best Birthday Ever for my sweetheart:

1. I tracked down a guy who could come to the house to fix Paulie's gargantuan vintage console stereo's record player. This was no small feat, because as it turns out, most of the people who can do this are either retired or dead. Unfortunately, since this was going to be a surprise, this plan was foiled by conflicting schedules and, more than once, Paulie being at home when he wasn't supposed to be.

Hi, I'm a giant, glorified nic-nac holder

2. Since the records I'd bought him were now totally useless, I decided to make myself feel like less of a flake by making him breakfast. He requested an egg, toast and a sausage patty - easy, right?! In my state of distraction I accidentally bought pork sausage patties instead of vegetarian...which I served to him with a smile and pretended the mistake had been intentional. "Eat more protein, you!"

3. While shopping for the wrong sausage patties, I picked up a cake mix and a dented can of fruit which I intended to use to, well, bake a cake of course. Those things are still sitting on my kitchen counter - didn't quite get to the whole 'baking a cake' thing. Ooooops!

4. I planned a beach day on which I thought we'd stop by the Wild Flour bakery in Freestone for some bread, and Boon in Guerneville for dinner on our way back. Turns out both were closed on our beach day. That's right: CLOSED. Gah.

5. I forgot to buy a replacement gift. I mean, I did buy him something kind of last-minute and stupid when there were only a few days left before his birthday and the record player wasn't fixed yet, but because of my late planning, it didn't arrive in time. Actually now that I think about it, it still hasn't arrived. Christ.

Don't worry! All was not lost. Sure, I completely jacked up all of the surprises I'd planned on wowing my boyfriend with. He didn't seem to notice, though. Maybe because I deliberately and successfully made a point to distract him from the lack of an unwrappable gift. Oh, and I nailed it!

First, we went to The Marshall Store, where we ate oysters:

Then, we went to Hog Island Oyster Company, where we ate more oysters:

Then we went to Nick's Cove, where we ate...clam chowder and a salad. They have a little shack at the end of a dock where you can relax while waiting for your food, and when it's done, they call you to tell you it's ready! After we ate, I arranged a beautiful sky for Paulie to look at.

While there, he serenaded the dog while I fantasized/made plans for us to move into the shack forever where we would live a simple life filled with salty mornings and cozy woodstove evenings. *sigh* A girl can dream.

What a perfect day! On the way home, we stopped at The William Tell House, where the barkeep brought Paulie dessert with actual candles, and the whole bar sang Happy Birthday to him! I didn't get any decent photo documentation of this grand moment, sorry.

I did, however, get one photo of our final stop of the evening. Paulie and I have a very unfortunate tradition of ending every birthday extravaganza with a trip to The Zoo, a sticky old dive bar where, if you go at the wrong time of the evening you might order microwaved bagel dogs which will make you very, very sad the following day. Luckily, when we put last-minute word out that we were heading there, a bunch of friends rolled themselves off the couch/out of bed, and joined in the birthday-celebrating fun.

All of these people love Paulie.

But wait!! Do you want to know the best part of this whole story?? After work the following day, I was telling Paulie about all of the ways in which my plans to surprise him for his birthday had been shot to hell. I explained how many times I'd had to reschedule the record player repairman, much to my woe. As I laughed at myself, he was like "well, maybe I can fix it...."

Happy Birthday! Fix this, please!

Which of course, he proceeded to do. My kids are right - Paulie really can fix anything! Sure, he isn't exactly sure which combinations of his efforts resulted in the thing actually working, but still. The point is - he fixed it, and now I don't have to pay someone to come out and do it. WIN!!

The rest of our evening was spent listening to The Rolling Stones, Pete Seeger, The Beatles, and other old scratched records we'd been given that very day, by sheer coincidence.

I think it all worked out in the end.

The Family Wagon

Well, it happened: we got a van.

Here, I'll prove it!

When I say that 'we' got a van I of course mean that Paulie heard through the grapevine that this sweet-ass ride was for sale and, since he's been dreaming of buying a van since he decided to date a single mother and did the math, he up and bought the dang thing!

For the record, the math went something like this: 1 hot girlfriend + her 2 kids + their friends + 1 teenager + his friend(s) = 2 cars to drive to every beach day = sad face. When I say 'the math went something like' I of course mean that this is the easiest possible way to do math (and it makes complete sense shut up), and this is how I did math back in my day. Please don't ask me how to do math today because ohmygod what the fuck common core?! Anyway, the main point of that digression was to prove to you that I CAN do math, after all. As long as it's not ridiculous math.

Anyway, back to the van.

It has gold octopus tentacles on it, you guys!! And it sits seven people, a couple of dogs, four beach chairs, two coolers, a bag of snacks, a backpack full of reading material, a purse, a soccer ball, 4 hoodies, and let's be honest: probably a dead body if we got creative.

This isn't our van but, uh, you get the idea. RIP druggie grandpa

Within an hour of bringing her home, we took the as-yet-unnamed van to the beach. This was fun because we got to find out rather quickly what quirks we'd be dealing with for the rest of our vanlationship. We were just past Sebastopol when it started screaming at us, which meant the oil was low. After unpacking all of the afore-mentioned beach-day stuff - minus a dead body - from the back of the van because of course that is where the engine is, Paulie found that the oil was not in fact low, so we continued on our journey.

We hadn't quite made it to Bodega Bay when Paulie pulled over again because the van was telling us that it was very hot and needed a rest. Again, he checked it out and deemed it just fine, so again, away we went. I watched the flashing red light under the thermostat but it seemed to stay a reasonable amount of centimeters away from the danger zone, so whatevs.

Needless to say we made it to the beach.

Thanks for getting us there, new van! Please don't listen to Paulie when he looks at you contemplatively and says things like "yeah now I'm kind of remembering how much I hate driving a high-maintenance vehicle" or "I just want things to work." He doesn't mean it!

p.s. what should we name the van??