Pointless ramblings about Xmas
Since October, things have not gone well for our Hyundai Tiburon. Despite the totemistic power of the many toy sharks M_ has placed in the vehicle, it's luck runs poorly. I had been taking the train to work. On the way home, I was thinking to myself "self, it's a good thing to take the train and avoid the chance of some idiot hitting my car on the highway". Then I arrived at the station, and someone promptly backed their truck into my car. The [explicative deleted] fellow then claimed that I had somehow backed my car into him. Although I wondered how my car was supposed to have a gear called "sideways", this question was never answered. Only recently did his insurance company admit this was about the lamest lie they had ever heard and pay our deductible.
I had taken the day before the day before Christmas Eve off from work, so I could join M_ in Michigan. But the big snowstorm here in Ohio caused there to be much heavy snow. My snowblower, aside from being out of gas, was completely incapable of moving the sodden white joy that filled my driveway to about 3 feet deep. I managed to clear it, taking short breaks to avoid heart attacks, after six or seven short, happy hours, that have still numbed the nerves in my elbow. Then I find the hard stuff the plow has put at the end of my driveway is well-nigh indestructible. Still, I wanted to both get the kitty some litter and make it to Michigan. Funny thing about ice, it can rupture your tire like [insert your local sports team here] rips into the Cleveland [choose one: Browns/Cavaliers/Indians]. I noticed the flat coming up my street, as my car would no longer go up the slight hill with the railroad tracks. Rather than park on the tracks, I burned some rubber and got across. You'll be happy to note, I did manage to score the sand for Conner. At this point, M_ was promising to drive all the way back to Ohio to come get me home from Christmas, just like the song.
The next day I pulled out of the driveway again, albeit I did hear a slight scrape from one snowbank - and ignored it, much to my chagrin later. It only took three short hours to find both a mechanic and a replacement tire for my trip home. As I headed towards Michigan, I noticed something flapping in my peripheral vision. Was I finally losing my mind? Alas no (that was in 1985), the turn signal had been loosened from it's moorings and was now held onto the car only by the electrical cable. After securing it, I made it up to M_'s mom's house for a great Xmas. Dave, the biscuit-non-eater, his wife Ann, Lyndon Jr., his lovely date X (not sure if she wants to be mentioned in a virtual rag like this) and of course M_ and Mother of M_ made for a holiday worth all the pain and ice. M_'s mom declared she didn't want to hear any more logical paradoxes from yours truly, and that Lyndon Jr. made the understatement of the epoch when he said his date was attractive (not to mention the fact she's the first teacher I've met who didn't complain about her job). We all played the game "Cranium", where M_ fashioned a reasonable replica of DNA out of clay in 20 seconds, and Ann figured out the other teams answers before they did - but being a true gamer, did not share this until it was too late for them. After the gaming bloodbath was over, I was left to reflect on a good Christmas in a not-so-great year, and hope for more of one and less of the other.