Speaking of The Sebring

The Sebring's backseat is surprisingly roomy for a 2 door coupe style car. For all of you who have seen too many teen movies, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about breastfeeding, of course.

Having a baby makes the logistics of stopping by the store a little more complicated. For example, many people can say "oh, I need eggnog because it is now eggnog season and I would like some. I will get some on my way home from work." (Disclaimer: most people I know seem to dislike eggnog!)

But add a baby, and if the grocery store doesn't have a drive through lane, you have some decisions to make. Like, if the baby is hungry now, is it worth it to go into the store with him bawling? No. But is it worth it to go home, haul the carseat into the house, feed him, and then haul the carseat back into the car? Also no! (And simply not getting eggnog is out of the question.)

That's how fate found me parking off the the corner of the parking lot and slipping into the backseat to nurse Silas before we went in to pick up a container of eggnog. And it was weird. Which I found weird.

I know that there's this whole thing about nursing in public and some people are comfortable with it and some aren't, and I've surprised myself with how intensely I want to encourage people to be comfortable breastfeeding in public, but that's a discussion for a different day. The main point for now is that I don't mind breastfeeding in public. I have a baby, I have his food, and I don't have to clean up any bottles if he gets hungry while we are out.

For whatever reason, breastfeeding in the car felt a lot weirder than breastfeeding at a table in a restaurant or in Target or outside at a park. I'm not sure why. I think it could have been that people don't expect to see people inside the backseat of a parked car and so I actually felt more conspicuous back there. But I'm not sure. All I know is I felt supremely odd and I did begin to question whether eggnog was worth it.

It was.

I wish I had taken a picture!

Today during my lunch break I drove over to see Silas, as I do for every lunch break now that I'm back to work. He's being taken care of by Smiley's grandmother, who lives just minutes away from where I work. It is one of the things that allows me to go back to work without having a breakdown.

When I got to her apartment complex, I noticed something. Mainly, every single parking spot was taken. This is not a typical problem. Every day up until now, the parking lot had been more than half empty (and I'm not just being a pessimist)!

For whatever reason, it was full. Overflowing. There were three other cars circling the lot, waiting for a spot. Two of them seemed to be following the same woman to her car. Both were disappointed when the lady kept walking, straight out of the parking lot.

I knew my best bet was to follow her lead, and look for alternative parking. After all, every minute I idled my car was another minute I wasted gas - and missed out on seeing my son, of course! So I turned around in the parking lot and hit the streets, looking for a place to park.

Time was, you used to pass your driver's license test by parallel parking. Not in my time. I can count the number of times I've actually parallel parked in my life. Pulling up to a curb with plenty of space does not count.

I found an open spot on the street along the building. There was a brief moment of hesitation - if I went over one more street, I could most likely pull up to the curb and not have to maneuver my car into a parallel park.

But that would be another street over and even further away from Silas. I guess it's true, that our kids can help bring out the best in us. I steeled my grip on the rust bucket I like to call the Sebring, and pulled into the spot. Even this hardly counted though; I was only pulling in and adjusting behind a car. The space behind me was still empty. I threw the car into park and ran to visit with Silas for a half hour.

Upon my return to the great outdoors, my worst nightmare had occurred - someone had pulled into the spot behind me. I was officially about to un-parallel park.

I don't know if they teach a better way to do this, but did I mention I was in the Sebring? This car has a turning radius of a large van or small bus. I walked around to the back of the car to visually assess the space. My heart was pounding as visions of crumpled bumpers danced into my likely future. I got inside the car and turned it on, closing my eyes in the closest thing to a prayer. Oh so slowly, I angled my wheels and backed up.

As the tense moments went by, I noticed a pattern - I wasn't hitting the curb or the other car! I was doing it! I was getting out of the spot! I backed up a few more inches, although the rearview mirror made me feel as though I was lurching back yards at a time. And then I cut my wheel all the way over and slowly started pulling forward.

Can I just say that the Sebring's idea of a turning radius is nonexistent? I nearly hit the car in front of me, but the important part is that I didn't. And with that, I was out of the spot, freed from one of my best instances of parallel parking ever. I really wish I had taken a picture to prove just how legit this parking job was today.

Maybe next time.

The worst way to bring home a Christmas tree

So, my husband isn't too big into celebrating holidays. He doesn't care for fireworks, has no interest in a parade and absolutely, positively hates Christmas trees. Last year, our Christmas tree was a little blue tinsel tabletop deal. I was ok with it, because we were going visit my family for the actual holiday. However, this year, we're unable to make the trip up, so I got to thinking that it would be nice to have a Christmas tree.

Smiley's take: A Christmas tree is one of the stupidest ideas ever. It's like two drunks were outside, being drunk and one of them goes 'dude. Let's take a tree from outside and put it INSIDE.' And then the other guy says 'yeah. And then let's put candles on them. It'll be awesome! An open flame on a slowly drying out tree? What could go wrong?'

Me: Whew. That was exhausting to listen to. Also I've never heard of a modern string of lights burning down a house.

After some back and forth, he finally agreed that I could get a tree this morning while I was at work. I was so excited and I literally spent my breaks and my lunch hour researching the trees avaliable in our town, the decorations and so on and so forth. I made a few spreadsheets.

By the time I on my way home from work, I was so pumped. I called my husband as I drove, asking him if he'd mind driving the truck and bringing me to the hardware store so I could buy a tree. He begrudgingly said ok.

As we were getting ready to leave, our roommate, his sister, came home and I invited her to come with. We all smushed into our small truck and left the house. I was picturing a magical tree hunting trip during which time my husband would have a small bit of fun and perhaps come away from the experience hating Christmas trees a little less.

Boy, was I wrong.

About halfway to the store, the alternator in the truck seemed to give up and the battery died as we were turning a corner. As the truck slowly sputtered to a stop, the three of us sat in silence for a full minute.

"Great," said Smiley. "Just what I want. To be stuck on the side of the road on my way to getting a stupid Christmas tree. Typical."

"I didn't make the truck die," I pointed out. "In fact, given the track record of the truck not dying and also bringing us from point a to point b reliably ever since you redid the clutch and other bits, I didn't expect it one bit."

"And you invited our roommate to come with us and now she's sitting her with us instead of us being able to call her."

"Yes, that's unfortunate," I agreed.

Luckily, our roommate was able to call her friend to come give us a jump. She and Smiley pushed the truck back into a parking lot while I steered and promptly hit the curb. (It was not my intention to hit the curb).

It was getting late, and Smiley had to go to his Dresden Files RP game soon, so we decided not to chance it by going to the store and back. He drove the truck home. I sat, deflated, in the passenger seat. I had wanted so badly for the trip to the store to be uneventful and therefore not give my husband any validation to his hatred of the trees.

I can see now that this is not how it is meant to be.

My lovely sister in law then accompanied me as we took the Sebring to the store and picked out a tree. Smiley, if you're reading this, we only had to look at two trees before we made our choice! As I type, the tree is set up in our living room so that the branches can spread out some before I decorate. I am still pretty excited, but with a certain amount of trepidation. If our truck is willing to stop just to put up a roadblock to a happy Christmas, what will be next?

I'd better not think about that! I'm going decorate my tree. Whee!

Oh Sebring, You Keep My Days So Interesting..

So one of my biggest fears about the Sebring is that it is going to basically fall apart underneath me while I am driving. This is not a baseless accusation; there is precedent.

A bit over a year ago, the husband and I were traveling North by car (we travel with our pets and disdain planes) when all of the sudden, the Sebring made a clunking sort of noise, as if it had shifted into top gear just a little clumsily.

As my husband made his way to the side of the road somewhere just inside the Indiana border, I was dumbfounded and more than a little glad I was not the one driving.

"What happened?" I asked him, trying to peer over to the gauges on the dash for a light or some sort of indication of the problem. The tachometer was low. Way too low.

"The engine stopped," he said almost casually, keeping much calmer in the situation than I would have, had I been the driver.

I kid you not, I was so surprised that this is what I asked next: "Oh wow. Is the car going to stop moving now?"

"Well yeah." He was kind enough to answer without being too sarcastic, "The engine stopped. We're just coasting at this point."

I sat in silence then, marveling at the stupid things I manage to say, and watched traffic swerve around us as we pulled over to the side of I-65, on a bridge overpass.

The reason the engine stopped was that a piece of the drive shaft (or something, don't hold it against me if my car terms are wrong here) had rusted off in the engine and fallen down into the transmission. I am now going to attempt a comparison between two topics I know very little about - cars and the human body. Whatever that piece did, it was like getting food stuck in your windpipe. The body knows it needs air to keep going, but when it can't get any more, you die. Same with a car. The car knows it needs gas to keep going, but when something gets all stuck in its pipe, it dies.

Or something.

We ended up having to stay the night in the town and most of the next day waiting for the car to be fixed. The mechanics terrified us by stating it would be over a thousand dollars to drop the transmission but thankfully, they decided to try removing the piece without dropping it first and the bill was more manageable.

So yes, there is precedent. There is also the fact that a piece of the car rusted and fell off just yesterday.

I was leaving the parking lot at work, so ready to be home. As I went over one of the speed bumps - and it's fair to note, I am not a speeder over speed bumps. I slow down for speed bumps - there was a noise.

This noise could accurately be described as "what a piece of metal sounds like when it has been ripped loose from the bottom of your car due to the fact that it is mostly rust at this point."

I thought about panicking, but the car seemed to still be moving forward, so I pulled into the next avaliable parking spot and walked back to the scene of the carnage.

A little piece of metal, edges completely rusted, lay on the ground, as if accusing me of abandoning it. I hadn't the slightest clue what it was and the part of my brain that has a minor knowledge of cars decided that it was probably part of my muffler. Or maybe my transition. Or my exhaust. Exhaust and mufflers are two different things right?

I put the piece of metal on the back seat and then decided to try looking under the car. If you've never had a Sebring, you might not know that they basically are flat on the ground. I couldn't see anything.

Tentatively, I got back into the car and turned it on. It turned on, so I decided I would be safe to drive the few miles home. I was.

Later, it was revealed by my all-knowing husband that what had fallen off of the Sebring was part of a heat shield, I guess. So now my car is less protected against heat, which seems unfortunate. He assured me that it is not a vital part of the car, but I'm still feeling nervous.

It truly is only a matter of time before the Sebring gives up on life and deposits its engine on the ground while I'm trying to go up a hill.

Tonight's Raid Night!

Today is a pretty important day. It was my last day at my now old job and tomorrow will be my first day at a new job. Also, despite my two-day rant on the Sebring, someone came and looked at it and might be buying it for serious! He said that he used to have one and liked how it handled. How cool is that?

Well, Thursdays are also raid night on World of Warcraft! The husband and I sit down with our guild (8 other people who are online with us) and get stuff done. I was looking over my old pictures and found this one from two years ago:

That's me on the right and my husband on the left. But as I said, that picture is over two years old now so we've changed some. I've got a cuter dress. And my husband now plays a goblin so he's kinda short. You know, WoW is how we met. I think I'll have to write our origin story one of these nights. But in the meantime I wanted to share some other WoW pictures I found that are pretty amusing, even if you don't play the game.

 That's me, around Thanksgiving time - rounding up all the turkeys! (And a skunk). This picture always made me laugh because the turkeys would follow me around in a single file line and then whenever I stopped, they would fan out in a fairly perfect half circle. None of them cared about the skunk!

Around Easter time, Easter eggs start popping up around the grass in game. They're fun to pick up and they have virtual candy, dresses and other such Easter items. And the way these two Tauren were staring each other down, I couldn't help but add some dialogue. It was, uh, funny to me at the time. And ok, I'll admit that I half laughed when I saw it in my picture archives.

Well, that's really all the time I've got for now. Raid starts in 9 minutes and I have tacos to eat and iced tea to drink. Here's hoping that tomorrow is awesome.

The non-convertible Sebring. Part Two.

Recently, having been able to upgrade to a significantly better car, I've been trying to sell the Sebring. I opened a craigslist post and began typing out the good things about the car - about how the now completely mice-free a/c cools things down quickly. How the seats are leather and the drivers seat is a power seat. The new tires. And that thanks to my having a relatively short drive between college and home, the car only has about 89,000 miles. These are all great things, yes.

But in the back of my mind, I felt like I was cheating. Driving a Sebring is an experience that given the choice, many will choose never to have again. This was basically my first car, so until recently, I thought that my legs going numb after a half hour of driving was just the way cars worked. And that if I didn't stretch before an hour long trip, my back would go numb too.

Then my husband and I got a Corolla and suddenly I learned that driving didn't have to be a painful experience. (Although the Corolla is manual, so there's a whole lot of back story there too). In the Sebring, there's no such thing as a 3-point turn. If you have four uninterrupted lanes of traffic, you can pull off a 5-point turn and on residential streets, you're going to hit a curb no matter how hard you try. U-turns were unheard of, unless you felt like making one from the right turning lane of your current direction to the right shoulder of the other direction. What I'm trying to impart here is that the Sebring turns like an full size van and that's being unfair to the van. My husband used to drive a full sized van and a box truck for work and after driving the Sebring, he insisted that both handled better than it. That seemed harsh but after watching him make a 3-point turn in the van, I had to concede defeat.

Unsurprisingly, I have yet to sell the Sebring. I don't mind. It was my first car and there's some sentimental value. Plus, it costs next to nothing to insure given that its KBB value is around $3,000 at the time of this post. Not to mention I'm still learning to drive manual and when I have to drive somewhere with a lot of hills, I like having a back up option. (If you've never driven manual, when you go to get into first gear on a hill, you roll backwards until you give the car gas. It's unnerving the first few times. The first hundred few times. Maybe always; I don't know yet).

So in any case, if you're looking to buy a car in the panhandle region, I've got a Sebring you might like. Hit me up.

And it's so shiny, you'll reflect trash cans!

My first car, the non-convertible Sebring. Part One.

The bringer of the sea. And death.

 I am the oldest of the five kids in my family. You might think that this age benefit comes with perks, but you'd be wrong. The keyboard that I am typing on, for example, is mine only because no one else in my family liked typing on it except me. So I got to use it and since it hasn't died yet, I still have it (going on over a decade, I think).

This method of accepting what others don't want is how I ended up with my Sebring. The Sebring started out on some car lot, happily awaiting the day that someone would purchase it; blissfully unaware that almost no one wanted a non-convertible Sebrings. A non-convertible Sebring is kind of like a unicorn except possibly more rare. Luckily, my great aunt decided that she would like a non-convertible Sebring and acquired the car in 1997.

She used the car some, but not much, and eventually it was a full time feature of her garage for the better part of a decade. Now, as I mentioned, I'm the oldest of five and there are not many years between us. So when I was eligible to drive, that meant my other siblings wouldn't be far behind. My great aunt graciously offered our family the Sebring. (Little did she know that my next youngest sister and brother would decide not to pursue their drivers licenses!)

The car needed some work. After so long in storage, mountains of mice had gotten a foothold in all areas of the engine and the doors, living their tiny mice lives like kings off of the air filters. Their presence was announced in ways that were less than pleasant - for example, turning on the A/C led to the expulsion of bits of mice nest and droppings, rather than cold, fresh air one might expect.

My dad has always been the awesome, work on cars kind of dad, so he set to work cleaning out the engine and removing the door panels to work on rewiring the sound system of the car. If you've ever take a moment to look at the wires of a car, you'll see that they come in multiple colors, much like a plastic rainbow. Throughout the years, we've come to learn that mice like to chew on orange wires the best.

Ready to hit the open roads of suburban paradise!

 Thanks to my dad's careful and patient work, the Sebring was ready to be driven like a normal car once more. The only problem was that no one wanted to drive it. My dad would, but he didn't care for how it handled (more on that in Part Two) and my mom hated how the steering wheel was so low that it jammed into her legs, even when the wheel was in its "uppermost" potion. As mentioned about, my next two siblings in line didn't even end up getting their licenses at 16 and I don't think it's a stretch to say that faced with the option of driving the Sebring, they chose the suddenly very rational option of not driving at all. As for me? Well, the Sebring was the car I learned to drive in. But more importantly, no one else - in the world - wanted it and that made the Sebring the perfect car for me. You might think I'm joking about this, but the next time you're outside, keep an eye out for non-convertible Sebrings and just tell me how many you see!

Tomorrow: The Joys of Driving a Sebring!