Laughter

So much is just total crap right now, but not everything is. That would be an absolute, and there are no absolutes in this thing we call life.

So, after Grouse Monday, with the shitty car problems, I woke Tuesday in a better, lighter mood, with hope sitting, once again, on my right shoulder. I cannot explain hope's existence in my life.

Several months ago I accepted that this was just a shit time. I have, on occassion, thought that the shit time was drawing to an end, only to have that hope dashed by car windows that would not roll up during the rainiest part of the year, lost glasses that must be replaced, and of course now my car with the hole in the valve cover. I cannot explain the presence of hope. I can only guess that it is due to the wishes sent to me by friends and other loved ones. The laughter and happiness of my children. The fact that a dear friend let me borrow their car. And solving an old mystery (that is a story for another time.)

My son, my dear dear son, who is really tall for his age. My son who will be "the" story other children tell their parents after the first gym class day this school year (he's how tall? was he left behind? are you sure he isn't like developmentally disabled and older than 11? he can't be six feet tall, you must be wrong!) My son has an amazing sense of humor.

So, Monday, Super Shit Day, after we got the borrowed car, we made a quick run to the grocery store. I am blue, I need chips. Well and stuff for dinner. And bread and cereal. Okay, so we shop and I see the canned soups. We generally eat cooler food in the summer, but soup is comfort food. I wanted potato soup, but I make that myself. I thought my son would like some chicken noodle soup, which I do not make. I asked him. He said 'ew no'. I tried to talk him into it, to no avail.

Skip to the next day, it is lunch time. I am hanging in the fridge, door open, trying to figure out what we will have for lunch. He walks in, all 6 ft of him (he towers over me now). "Honey what sounds good for lunch?" In a very serious tone "I think I want soup." I started to spew frustration in his general direction, when I caught sight of his face, laughter seeping from every pore, spilling from his eyes, his mouth just opening in a loud guffaw, he says "Oh CRAP" and turns and runs from me, laughing the whole way.

Sense of humor. Sense of timing. The patience to wait for the laugh. His future wife is going to have her hands full.

Having the borrowed car has been a learning experience for him. My car, my 7 year old Saturn, is no longer new. There is a faint odor of mildew from the drivers door when you roll down the window. There is enough pet hair and food crumbs in it to embarrass the worst housekeeper. But, the seats are covered in whatever that fabric-y, nappy material is the car manufacturers use now, and the air works. Not so the borrowed car. The lovely Vega is 30 or more years old, the seats are vinyl, a/c was never a part of this vehicle. It is beautiful. It is a composition of two other Vegas neither of which were road worthy. My friend Ken (who is married to Marilyn, who was my friend first) created this Vega out of the ruins of the other two cars.

My son, let's call him Q, does not have patience for heat. He never has. On the day I brought him home from the hospital, not yet 2 days old, he screamed half way home because he was burning up in his little 'going home' outfit. What can I say? His daddy picked it out, it was appropriate for late fall. That day the temps hit 80. Q was hot. I had to make his father stop the car so I could strip him before we were half way home.

Okay, so the Vega has no air. Sitting on hot vinyl seats feel like sitting in hot melted cheese dip. He got in the car yesterday and told me how much he hates the car. I told him it was good for him to learn what it is like for people who have vinyl seats, in fact what life was like for me as a child.

Tonight, we made a random run to get ice cream and a couple of other things. The seats were cool, the air flowing in from the open windows and open vents was spectacular. He decided the car was not evil incarnate after all. Until we got back in the car to head back home. The seat belt would not emerge from its hole more than 5 inches. I got back out, and tried to 'fix' the problem, but it was a no go. We had to stuff him into the back seat of the Vega. He sat in the seat, looked up at me and said "Mom I don't fit. I literally do not fit in this seat!"

And, he didn't. The back seats in the Vega (at least this one) are separated by the 'hump' just like the front seats are. For whatever reason, the back seats are not as wide as the front seats. He was sitting on the seat and part of the 'hump'.

Now, let me say that I am deeply grateful for the use of this Vega. But it will be really good if I can get the front seat restraint to act properly tomorrow.

Q swore to me that if I told the Vega story, he would do terrible things. So, please don't let him know I blogged this.

:-)