And I'm Spent...

Over to the left is public enemy no. 1--my Chevy Cavalier. It's broken. Again. I swear, it's out to get me. This is only the second car I've ever owned (hence it's name: Number 2). At first I thought it was a better alternative than the '92 Ford Tempo I bought for 300 bucks in college (It's name: Blue). I'd be lying, though, if I said that lately I long for that first car even if it would only go up to 60 and the seatbelts didn't work properly. Argh.

Yesterday I had a bit of a private fit at home because the stupid thing was making a weird noise and I'm sick of sinking money into it and work is really out of control. I have to say that though I cried and though my mother, in so many words, told me to get over it, it's just a car, I was proud of myself. Why you ask? Well, I'll tell you.

I've noticed, thanks to some constructive observations by the husband, that whenever something goes wrong, I start to tally all the other crap that's going wrong. I'm like Joe Pesci in My Cousin Vinny when Marisa Tomei has just given him lip about her biological clock tickin' and he just blows up:

Vinny Gambini: Lisa, I don't need this. I swear to God, I do not need this right now, okay? I've got a judge that's just aching to throw me in jail. An idiot who wants to fight me for two hundred dollars. Slaughtered pigs. Giant loud whistles. I ain't slept in five days. I got no money, a dress code problem, AND a little murder case which, in the balance, holds the lives of two innocent kids. Not to mention your [bangs his foot] BIOLOGICAL CLOCK - my career, your life, our marriage, and let me see, what else can we pile on? Is there any more S**T we can pile on to the top of the outcome of this case? Is it possible?

That is what I feel like. It's as if I want to find all the things that are going wrong so that I'm justified in crying or in eating that piece of chocolate or not cooking dinner because it's just not my day. So yesterday, when I about had it with the P.O.S. I own, I just got pissed about it for a little bit, then wasted time on the internet until Mike got home and we drove the darn thing to my parents house where the mechanic (he makes house calls, y'all!) is going to work his magic.

I'm not the type of person who works for the weekend. I enjoy my job and my evenings at home. But I just want Friday to get here so I can wash my hands of this week. I just look at Mike and we're both so tired, we're crabby and that's never fun for anyone. Maybe it's the weather.

Things are a little better today, that's all that matters right? That at the end of the day, things are better. Ah, perspective. What would we be without it?

How about you guys? Is the constant rain getting to you? Do you have a car you just love to hate? Leave your thoughts in the comments. (Yani, I'm talking to you!)

Today's picture of the day is an oldie but a goodie and it's not even one I took. This picture is circa 2003 when I came home for the summer. Mike came to visit and we took a little road trip to the west coast of Florida. He snapped this one of me during a little driving break:

Random

This is a random text that my sister, Yani, sent me the other day:

"Remember when I was like 7 or 8 and I had a huge crush on Michael Bolton?"

This is why she's of my favorite people in the world. Because she'll admit things like this.

~

Tutu Couture

Eventhough my nose is about to quit my face because of the many times that I've blown it today, I just had to finish editing the pictures from my portrait session last weekend. I'm so delighted with how these came out. It's so easy to take good photos when the subjects are so stunningly cute. I could put them all up, I love them all so much, but here are few pictures of Sammie and her adorable baby brother:

Bad Genetics

I've spent the past two days making time with a box of tissues and doses of Robitussin. Yesterday was the worst. I was in a Borders and I was just getting progressively worse. I kept having to blow my nose and was catching looks from all the other patrons. I swear I felt like I was a character straight out of the movie Outbreak. I was the Motaba virus. People probably thought I had the swine flu. But I don't...I promise.

I'm starting to think that my buddy Scott is right and I might have bad genetics. Two weekends straight of being sick is just not right. My mom's reaction,"It doesn't come from my side."

I think I figured it out, though. I spent the better part of the summer in my apartment reading and writing. I didn't venture out much except on the weekends. Now I'm stuck in a classroom full of gruby kids who barely wash their hands. My immune system is getting it's ass handed to it. Gotta pump that vitamin C!

Oh, and did the weather gods not get the memo that it's Labor Day weekend? It's been torrential most of the week here and it doesn't look like it's letting up any time soon. I just hope it's sunny tomorrow for my BBQ with the fam. When I asked my dad what he was making he offered this menu: "Ribs...corn on the cob...Chivo." That's goat for all you non-spanish speakers. He won't actually serve goat. I promise you. I just think it's funny how whenever I ask what we're eating, he tells me were eating goat. Dads--you gotta love them.