anyhow, the mess is at least 75% my fault because i'm chronically messy and unrepairedly pack-ratty.
we spent friday night eating mai's take out and saturday eating roti grill take out and taking turns watching the baby and cleaning house (which involved me finding more and more stacks of unfiled papers galore and emptying the cardboard box from the trunk of the ford of two pairs of vintage men's shoes, a vintage men's sportscoat, great aunt louise's "torch", several binders from high school and college, and a large bug that looked like it wanted to eat clothing).
so despite part II of this enchanting game, we rose early sunday morning (because every morning is an early morning with mr fussy pants sunshine who likes to take his first nap at 9:30am after we're all up and ready to go) and drove through torrential rains to tyler, where there was astonishingly little rain.
my parents were home awaiting our arrival.
"let's just go ahead and go to the lot and get this over with first," i said while trying not to think about it too much.
we all piled into two cars and i drove us across town and into the parking lot. my mother searched for keys to doors and bays and gates and more gates. i walked into the garage and there she sat looking hopefully at me. the ford. she glistened. she winked. i think i might have seen a tear.
i walked quickly over to her, opened the door, slid into the driver's seat, and slipped on the lap belt. she started right up after i nudged the gear to the left and i gave her a little extra gas to make her more comfortable. we rolled slowly backward out of the bay and stopped for a photoshoot. the baby learned the joys of a steering wheel while standing his little feet on top of my thighs. then we handed him back out the window to my father so brian and i could take one last joyride. she drove smoothly, only stalling out once so i could have the pleasure of throwing her into neutral and executing a rolling start. little children on the poor side of town hollered indecipherable exclamations in our direction. one remarked on how my car has gills.
i deftly ignored brian's offers to let me give a bj in the backseat.
we maneuvered back through the parking lot and squeezed past all the new cars whose makers weren't even a twinkle in anyone's eye back in 1958. we hid our smug faces from them.
there were more photos and then i pulled her back into the bay, turned off the engine, counter-intuitively left the keys in the ignition, shut the door, and kissed her above her right headlight and in the middle of her insignia.
i turned one last time to look at her and study her in the filtered sunlight and note the way the glass in all the windows had a slight wave.
i almost cried.
mom said a nice hispanic man was interested in purchasing for $9500. i asked if she had interviewed his offspring to make sure they were worthy of inheriting such a fine automobile and if he had promised not to chop the top or install bucket seats or a retarded, little race car steering wheel.
we went back to my parents' house and put oliver in his new swim trunks and laughed and laughed at how cute he was before we jumped in the pool under a grey and sprinkledy sky.
the baby had a blast in the water and lasted much longer than i had thought he would. one of the saddest things i think i've ever seen is a baby trying tirelessly to stack an ovoid on top of a sphere. okay, maybe not so much sad as endearing.
after drinking my father's mojitos, we accepted my parents' offer of take out from liang's and we stuffed our faces with home style tofu and pureed acorn squash mixed with applesauce.
we drove back through another strip of rain and two pull overs due to unexpected baby meltdowns.
monday felt a heckuvalot like saturday if you cross out "roti grill take out" and replace it with me sussing up a box of potato and leek soup with broccoli, onion, garlic, carrots, and potatoes; roasting sliced yams and sliced beets; toasting a million pistachios and cashews from subzi mandi; and sauteeing beet greens with garlic.
photos to follow when i don't have a baby glued to my lap or a super scary storm staring at me through that picture window.
wait... here they come now: