Corolla is no more...

I completely forgot to post about this. I guess I was too upset and there was too much going on when it happened...

It was an plain Thursday morning in June when I got a call at work from Tom that he had been in an accident. On the PA Turnpike. That caused a five care 'pile up'.

How I didn't pass out when I heard that, I'll never know.

I couldn't figure out what was going on because he was on the phone on the side of the PA Turnpike. I couldn't even be sure that he was going to be able to get a ride home from the side of the road. So I went flying out the door.

As I got closer to home, the story started to come together. There was heavy traffic on the road, and it was stop and go. And this particular time, Tom went when he should have stopped. He slammed the breaks so hard and yanked the wheel so hard, he had pushed the Corolla down and under the Murano in front of him. That pushed the Murano into the car in front of her and so on for three more cars.

No one was hurt. It wasn't so much a pile up as a domino chain. And the truck driver who towed the car gave him a ride home because it happened to be Bob's Trucking and Towing about a mile from the house.

But I lost my Blue Baby. It didn't looks so bad from the front when I saw it.



Really, I had hope she could be saved when I first saw her. But then, I got closer:





By the time I got to this point, I really doubted that this wasn't going to be a total. There was a spring missing. I still can't figure out where the hell the spring went-- Tom was convinced that it was on the side of the road because he tripped over one. I was so, so sad. This was my baby. This was my first new car that I bought and paid for and took care of to the best of my ability. She only had 156,000 miles on her, and we all know the Toyotas, if they are cared for, will give you double that easy. Hell, the car I traded in for her was at 215,000.

But now, no more Corolla. And no car for Tom to use.

We tried being a 1-car family for about 3 weeks while all of this went on. This was NO happening. Tom had doctors appointments and I was teaching after work and not getting home until 10:30 or later 2 or 3 nights a week. I didn't want him feeling trapped, and I didn't want him to be beholden to my schedule or me to is.

The hunt was on!

Well, ok. The Craig's List/CarMax/AutoTrader hunt was on.

We actually wound up test driving three different cars:

A Camry Solara, bright silver, which was really really pretty, but the Carfax was... lacking somehow. And I hated the brakes. The mileage was high for a 2002, and I really didn't like the brakes. The salesman seemed unwilling to drop down for the brakes I knew would have to be looked at and probably fixed.

A Mazda 620, gold. It was OK. It didn't grab me. Everything was OK with it, mechanically, carfax-wise and visually. But again, I had issues with the brakes and I just wasn't feeling it.

A Camry, silver. Winner!!



This little gem was something we totally lucked into. Totally. 2000, in near pristine condition in and out. Carfax, from before it was driven off the lot. Brakes were within acceptable range. Low mileage for an 11 year old car. We were nervous that people were going to buy it before we could get there. So I actually called the dealership and made an appointment. We were a little early and they were just pulling it out of their car wash because the mechanic had just cleared it and finished it up that afternoon.

And the salesman said he had already had a half dozen calls about it. He told us that a month before they had a gentleman fly up from TEXAS to buy a Camry in basically the same condition as this one sight unseen. We took it for a drive, and Tom loved it. I loved it.

That was the second large check I've ever written-- but I'm glad we could because now we don't have another car payment for a perfectly awesome car. There's nothing small about the Silver Bullet here, though. She's a big big car, but she's a good good car. We lucked out.

Mighty Meaty Manly Meatballs!

I stumbled across this recipe the other day:

And you try to tell me that you don't want to know more about those meatballs.

https://www.esquire.com/food-drink/a24664/best-meatball-recipe/

As awesome as these are, there were things in there I couldn't do. For example, veal. I don't do veal. I wasn't too keen on the idea of milk in my meatballs. However, I followed the basic idea of the recipe- as in baking them. I even went a step further and used them to make a tomato/red gravy/sauce*. Here's my interpretation of the meatballs. And my friends, it is REALLY worth it, either with the original or my alterations.

Manly Meaty Meatballs:

2lbs 80/20 ground beef (make sure you use 80/20!)
1 lb ground pork
1/2 lb pancetta or thick cut bacon, minced
2 eggs
1/3 cup finely diced yellow onion
8 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp salt
1 tbls of adobo**
1/3 cup finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
1/2 cup bread crumbs

24 oz can of tomato puree
14 oz can of tomato sauce, unseasoned
12 oz can of tomato paste
1/4 cup oregano (you can absolutely decrease this-- I'm a huge fan)
1 tbls garlic power
2 cloves of garlic minced
2 tbls basil
1 tsp bay leaf
salt to taste
It's best to use dried herbs for this because it's not going simmer on the stove/in a crockpot like it should be.

First, on the stove:
Combine the tomato products with the herbs and blend it well; make sure the paste blends through- there should be no lumps. Allow this to heat through for about 1/2 an hour before proceeding to the second part.

Preheat the oven to 350*F

Second:
Mix the meat and eggs together by hand. It's squishy. Deal.
Add the onion and garlic, and mix well.
Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well.

Now:
In a 13X9 pan with high sides (or use a dutch oven if you have it), take a ladle or two of your gravy/sauce and coat the bottom.
Using an ice cream scoop, make the meatballs. Pack them well; you want to get rid of the air in them. Now pop it out and make sure it's round. repeat with all meat in the bowl. I got about 25 meatballs out of this.
Ladle the gravy/sauce over the meatball. Cover them with the sauce-- make sure there are no exposed parts of the meatballs.

Put the pan in the oven, uncovered and cooked for 1 1/2 to 2 hours. Mine were ready in 1 1/2.

Serve alone with crusty bread or over a little spaghetti. There should be WAY more tomato sauce than you need. Freeze or refrigerate for future use. I hope yours is as good as mine. Best Meatballs Ever.

My picture is coming; I'm using an old camera with a CompactFlash card and I have to go find the cord to up load the shot. I also meant to Pin This to Pinterest last week so that I could have for my October challenge, but I messed up. I won't count it, but I WILL share it.

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*I hate getting into the argument about sauce and gravy, so I always refer to it this way. However, in my house it's always tomato sauce.
**I love adobo. I use it everywhere for everything.

So You Want to Hear the Story?

It's October 1st and we're officially moved completely into our new place. I didn't want to tell the story until we had handed in the keys for a reason. Here's the story:

Our neighbor, let's call him SD*, filed a complaint about Tom's smoking probably within six weeks of moving in. Tom was on the deck smoking at this time; our whole point of getting a deck/terrace/whatever was so that he didn't have to go outside in the weather to have a cigarette**. We realize we're new and we should try to keep the peace. I'm that kind of person.

Tom moves his smoking area downstairs and outside. Away from SD's windows.

SD complains again. He can still smell the smoke. So, Tom moves again. This time out near the parking lots, far away from SD.

This time, SD and another neighbor complains about the smoke. They say they can smell the smoke from the parking lot. I swear, SD must me Steve Austin*** at this point.

But then I realize, as I'm sitting on the deck one day that I smell cigarette smoke and Tom is asleep on the couch inside. What the...? I lean over the railing and voila! The home health aid downstairs**** is sitting on their patio smoking. Well now, there's our problem. They are confusing the smoke! No wonder... Next time we get a complaint (which at this point I had NO delusions that we wouldn't) I would explain the mix up and all would be right in the world.

I'll mention here that Tom's health started to decline a bit more with each complaint. He was becoming more and more paranoid, and really can you blame him? He couldn't step out of the house without someone watching him? Not cool man, not cool. We're working on that with the doctors. So...

Tra-la-la-la-la.

I walk in about six weeks ago and Tom hands me a letter. You know what it is: our neighbors have been complaining about his smoking. They can't open their windows because of his smoking.

They are complaining about butts in the mulch.

And now they are complaining that he's coughing.

IN THE HOUSE.

In the f*ing house.

Yes my friends, we are not allowed to cough in the house now. They said that it's all the time, all day and night. Which it's not. It's after he has a cigarette and on occasion randomly (much more like a serious throat clearing than a cough at that point).

He is, of course, steamed. Royally. He's already left the deck because of complaint number one. He's moved his smoking mainly to the parking lot on the request of another neighbor. Even that's not enough. And now they are complaining about his coughing IN THE HOUSE. Are you f*ing kidding me.

I take the letter and tell Tom to stay put. He's liable to rip someone's head off if I let him handle it. That's not to say that I'm not ready to remove major body parts through small orifices, but I have a better track record of staying calm.

I walk over to the office and the first question that I ask is "Where can he smoke?" She totally dodges the question and starts in with some existential bullcrap. I interrupted her and said, "Ok, you didn't answer the question. Where can he smoke?" She points to the park and then to the woods behind the buildings. "Either of those are fine." Well no they're not because the park is closed from dusk to dawn, and since we're under a drought warning, the woods are a really bad idea. Kidding me?

I also pointed out that the downstairs caretakers from the Woods Services (Mental Institute for low functioning people) smoke outside all the time. Her answer? "Oh they've been here for years."

I'm getting a feel for how this is going to fall out.

I mention the cigarette butts in the mulch and before she can say a thing, I hold up finger to hush her. "This is a flat out lie. There are no butts in the mulch. I watched 60 apartment units burn to the ground for lack of a proper disposal system. There is a container in front of our door for just that reason. So whomever told you that is lying." She wanted to say something, but I repeated, "Lying."

So, then we get into the coughing. I said, "What exactly do you expect me to do about that? It's a biological function that was exacerbated by his bacterial pneumonia. I can't make him stop coughing."

"Isn't there a medication he can take?"

"No, this isn't that kind of cough. It's from his lungs."

"Why isn't he here?"

I thought to myself, because I don't want to have to visit him in jail. I answered, "He's at home in a Xanax induced sleep because this letter" *wave wave wave* "got him that upset."

So we banter back and forth another minute and I can tell she completely thinks that I'm going to tell him to just stop coughing. Or that I would be embarrassed by his coughing. She said something about the neighbors having the right to personal peace (or some other such made up term) and that his coughing was disturbing them. I repeated, he can't help it. It's a cough. What it was an elderly person with emphysema? How can you complain about coughing-- I know how bad it is. I sleep in the same room with him.

"How can you stand the coughing? how do you sleep through it?"

"Because he doesn't cough all the time. And don't you think I want him to stop coughing? Don't you think I worry about his health?"

"How do you sleep with him?"

Holy blank evil stare, Batman. What went through my head: Did you just question how I can sleep in the same room with my own husband? He's my husband you dumb _____. How do you think I do it? I close my eyes and fall asleep. He doesn't cough all night. What I said: "I just do."

"So what are we going to do about this? I can't have this because I'm going to have mass exodus of residents."

I stared at her a good long minute. "Well, I can see that there is no hope for a middle ground. I propose this: release us from the lease with NO fees, and I mean no fees, and return our deposit, and we'll move out within two months."

Not even a heartbeat's hesitation later, she answers me, "I can't call the main office right now, they're closed. I can get back to you tomorrow."

"Fine. But there can be NO lease break fees at all and the deposit must be returned to us."

And so, we wound up waiting the weekend to find out if we were going to be released from the lease. We spent the weekend looking at other places to live, and Tuesday morning we got the JOYOUS news that we were. By Thursday, we had a signed a lease for a new place.

And no one has complained about him coughing in our house.


_____________________________
*SD= Short D*ck. Dude rents an apartment and leases a BMW. Hello, inadequacy. And the woman he's seeing? Yeah. I think she puts her hair on each morning. IT'S NOT THE 80'S. Put down the Aquanet and step away from the curling iron.

**I realize that cigarettes are frowned upon. But if you've been following our saga, you'll understand why I've chosen not to directly attack this vice. Yet.

***Six Million Dollar Man? Yeah, go google it if you don't know.

****There were a few apartments rented by a local continuing behavioral/mentally-challenged private school for the former students who can't legally stay on the property anymore.

We're Going Back to Philly

We've moved back to Philly. :) This make two very happy adventurers. While I am sad to have left behind a few absolutely wonderful friends, I just keep reminding myself, they are just a weekend visit away.

Meanwhile, Welcome to our new abode:





Come on in, the door's open!



Our Kitchen. Warning: this is the MOST counter space I have since moving out of mom and dad's! There may be food experimentation in large amounts.





That thing that looks like a tiny little dishwasher is trash compactor. I have not turned it on. I don't know if I will. We have so little trash as it is and the bags are EXPENSIVE. I can't find them in Costco either.

Our dining room. We are missing art.



The living room. The love seat is at the bottom of the picture and the couch is to the right. I am LOVING the huge windows! I'm not putting up more curtains than what you see now.



The den. It's little, but big enough for a chair, bookcase (left) and TV, on the wall the chair is facing.


Clearly, we are not lacking art. That's Chairman Meow and Red Lenin, by Warhol. Not original.

Across the hall from the kitchen is our second bedroom.



Walk down the hall you come to the main bathroom, and my favorite decor. (Well, favorite until I put up the winter set.)



And to your right is our Hobbit-sized washer and dryer.


So, funny story about the washer. I had to wash all the towels I own. ALL of them. If you know me, you're familiar with my overabundance of towels, and I had to wash all of them. So for 10, 12 loads, -all hot- it would fill, run and stop half way through. I would have to coax it to continue by spinning the dial or what not. So the first cold load it wouldn't even fill. Wouldn't do ANYTHING. I was having a fit. One of the reasons why we picked this place was because of the washer and dryer*. I'm about ready to call the office screaming and yelling about this because it won't work, how can you rent a place on something that doesn't work, blah blah blah! And then-- I noticed the cold water feed was turned to off. ~slinks away embarrassed~

So, let's get to the master bedroom.





Our master bath. I'm not sure what I want to do here. It's very echo-y and I'm not digging it. I'm thinking about putting a shower curtain in and tying it back on the right.



And as a bonus, the headboard that I love so much with lamps that mom kindly bought for me after my old ones were crushed in the move. I was sad that they were crushed, but these are really nice replacements.



Please, come and visit. Check it out in person; I want to use all that counter space to cook something up!

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*Well, I would have killed for a place with hook ups so I could use my pretty babies, but such if life. I hate laundromats, so I need something!

Added 2020: I frigging loved this apartment. I was so mad when the shit went down 6 months later. :( 

The Virginia Blogs: So I Had This Weird Conversation...

or, Why I Fear For the Future

I walked into the gas station to buy Tom some cigarettes the other night. They have the cheapest around, so it was worth the trip.

The girl, young woman?, behind the counter rings me up. "17.76" she says.

I laugh and say, "Hey that was a good year."

"I don't know nothing 'bout that. Wait. Were you born in...?"

"Yeah, I'm vampire. Didn't you notice I only come in when it's dark?" I took my purchase and left.

Ok, so why does this scare me?
1. She really had no idea why I said 1776 was a good year.
2. I could seriously see her struggling to do the math to figure out how 'old' I was.*
And- I think this one is the scariest-
3. I think she really thought I was a vampire.

No child left behind, indeed.
--------------------------
* 234 this year!

cube.

Yeah, it needs punctuation.

As you know, we've been playing mechanic trying to keep Tom's Saturn running. The A/C, the tires, the belt, the alternator. Tom drove it home one day about a month ago, just before we were leaving for bridge day, and it started bucking and stalling and not shifting. He managed to get into a parking spot here before it completely died on him.

I stood staring at it for a while, and had NO IDEA what was wrong with it. Not one clue, though we did eventually whittle it down to "probably the electrical system". But exactly what in the electrical system? The computer? The battery? The damn alternator again? A co-worker found an electrical shop that would diagnose our problem for $50. I found another co-worker who came out and poked around the engine and jumped it to listen to it (as we had earlier) and said that it was the electrical system, but it could be that the electrical system was failing because the computer was failing. All I was seeing was $$$ and I was getting tired of having to budget money in for this car to get repaired. I kept thinking about the bucking that Tom described, and how if it was the alternator or computer, what says that there wasn't a HUGE transmission problem underneath that.

I had been hoping to be a little more liquid when we started thinking about buying a new car. But it was that or start budgeting in more than a car payment a month for car repairs.

The Saturn has served us well; no two ways about that. It drove our butts around for 8 years. And it may and probably will live again as a car for a teen age driver- two co-workers are battling over it, one for a nephew and one for a daughter. Both are hobby mechanics and can take their time over months to figure out how to get it working again.

Meanwhile, we needed a new car. Tom already had one picked out, and it did fit in the budget I was trying to stick to. We tried to go through the Costco Auto Program, but the car was too new for their discounts. We still went to that dealership though, because we figured it was a good bet since they worked with Costco. Please note: We Love Costco.

It only took a test drive and walk around for us to decide that we liked it. Ok, loved it. Tom is not a traditional car person; he bought the Saturn because it only had two doors and people wouldn't want to ride in the back. (Ask my parents. And his.) This was also going to be a non-traditional, non-American car.

Ironically, I was the one who made the salesman pop the hood. Tom was playing inside and I was talking horsepower. How did that happen?

So, the next day, we went to pick up our new car. SUV? Box? Toaster? Whatever.











Oh, this thing is FUN.