Jiggity jog

Aug. 3rd, 2007 12:23 pm
squirrella: (much more than this)
She's home! She won't start... But, my Bentley manual is coming today, so things'll have to look up again soon, right?
squirrella: (neener)
Best graffiti seen from the train to Boston: Suck my stump. We used it liberally for the rest of that day.

Best singing in the park: when some dude from NPR with a NitroJoe recorder and microphone asked the three of us to sing the theme from Cheers. Right across the street from the "original" Cheers bar. And near the statue that Mike and I posed under a few years ago:

squirrelpie.sized


Best non-road rage phrase used on the way up: Shut your trapezoid. My mother. Don't ask.

Best place to spend money: LUSH. OMG, I smell like a ROCKSTAR today. Also, Ocean Salt scrub is made with vodka...

Best way to assemble Ikea furniture: with never-ending margaritas followed by vodka tonics (because the margaritas *did* end...). We three assembled two end tables, an entertainment center, a shelving unit, a Poang and footstool all within 3 hours. Holy cam lock!

Best stitch learned in class: FRENCH FUCKING KNOTS! These little fuckers are now my bitch. I've seriously mastered the French knot and it only took two tries and about 30 seconds. I now cannot believe that I ever had a problem with this petty and pretty little stitch before.

Many photos to upload: Thai lunch, NPR guy, flowers, mom, sis, and more.

Oh, and my garage is EMPTY. Who let the car out? Why, Mike did!!! The Ghia is at the body shop and we should be getting an estimate this week. I'm scared and hopeful and nervous. BUT, I've had two Very Good fortunes in the last two weeks plus, I've picked up several lucky pennies, and I have a good feeling.
squirrella: (OMFG)
It took me the better part of twenty minutes to get the top up on the Ghia yesterday, which in turn made me miss my bus from the garage to Chestnut Hill, which in turn made me late to my coffee date. Then, I was so flustered (and a little sore--from putting up the freakin' top) that my knitting barfed in my face and I ended up ripping out an entire 3 inches of braided cabled sock leg, only to have acid reflux yarn. So, with my sore arms and smudged knuckles, I pretty much spent the next two hours unraveling and then balling recalcitrant yarn.
squirrella: (Default)
Ring, ring; I call over to Mike at work.

"Hello?"
"Hi!"
"There's something wrong with the car."
"What!?"
"Yeah, the one tail light is on and it won't go off. We've been trying to figure it out..."
"Well, is the light knob pushed in all the way?"
"Yeah..."
"And there's nothing interfering with the brake pedal?"
"Nope..."
"Well, then, I don't know..."

Later, I've Got Mail.
He writes, "There's nothing wrong with the car--it was just the way the sunlight was hitting the tail light..."

I reply, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

For effect, I reply again, "HA."

Ghia squee

Jul. 26th, 2006 12:03 pm
squirrella: (67)
I promise, this is not going to become one of those things where all I write about is my car and my car doing this and my car getting a bath. But permit me this minor bit of Ghia squee.

I'm fully comfortable with putting the car in reverse. Some of you may remember that I had a fear of sorts of getting an old VW into reverse (it's down and then to the left...). Between backing in and out of the garage for space and then, today, removing myself from a parallel-parking position (I parked where there were two spots and then someone parked--nicely--behind me), I've gotten darn good at the reverse thing.

I got the car 98% legal today. All that's left is inspection. I'll be putting in a call to a garage just outside of Chestnut Hill.

I drove the Ghia all around the Northwest this morning while getting her legal. I stalled once, embarrassingly close to home, but I managed.

The original color was a soft blue. I'm contemplating that as the eventual paint job I pursue. Can you imagine, my blue eyes in a blue car?

I put gas in the Ghia this morning. Not monumental, in the least. But, I had to find the gas release. It's under the dash and above the after-market speakers.

I drove her out to Mike's work. I switched cars with Mike because I am not comfortable leaving the Ghia outside of my library and Mike's heading home around 1:30, so the car can go in the garage lickety-split.

The masons that are working on the concrete across the street amused me to no end this morning. As I searched frantically for the VIN (the dash pad covers the VIN and the other VIN locations are either not raised--making an etching impossible--or are so painted-over that any etching would look like the VIN is 0O0O0O0O), I listened to these guys yell back and forth to each other about the car's heritage. One genius said, "I know a European car when I sees one." Way to narrow down the field, there, Grape Ape. They were eventually all certain the car was Italian, so when one of them finally asked me the make and model, they were visibly disappointed. When I then told them the car was of an Italian design, it blew their minds. Except for the one guy. He said, "I told you guys I knew European cars!"

The floorboards definitely need to be replaced sooner than soon. But we expected that.
squirrella: (1974)
Karmann Ghia on the BFF

Taken by Mike, just after sunset.
3 more behind the cut )
squirrella: (1974)
Good: I'm fine.

Bad: I'm sans bike.

I'm bandaged and drugged, and that should be good enough to get me through the day.

Also, I didn't sleep last night, laying in bed with a full-body clench. Stress, the unknown, the expected, the unexpected, et cetera. I did sleep this morning and I woke up after Mike went to work with my mouth fully open (shock and awe, if you will), a puddle of drool on my pillow, and my mind still hazy with the remnants of a fucked up and since-forgotten dream. All I could think when I opened my eyes was, "Damn, that's gotta be sexy."

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