Setting Up Your Married Kids with Your Friends' Married Kids is the New Setting Up Your Single Kids with Your Friends' Single Kids

Most of mine and Matt's friends are single (save for one of my girlfriends who recently started dating one of her coworkers and another one of my girlfriends - who is 23, mind you - who recently started dating an 18-year old high school senior. Yeah...we're still having sit-downs about that one). We've reached the point where, while we still love our single friends - they do make up the majority of our wedding party and come in handy when we need time without each other - we would certainly love to have some Couple Friends that we can share. My friend A (the one who's dating her coworker) and her new boyfriend are a start; he's older - in his early 30s - and is the most decent guy she's dated in...well...he's probably the most decent guy she's ever dated. We have a lot of fun with them and they're certainly a start to making friends in coupledom, but the grown up in me is yearning to throw a dressy cocktail party complete with h'ors douvres, quiet conversation, and easy listening in the stereo.

In passing I happened to mention to my mom that Matt and I were having a difficult time finding these elusive "Couple Friends." (I should mention that my mom is the quintessential dive-head-first-into-your-kid's-social-life mom. Before I met Matt, she always had a "nice boy" she wanted me to meet.) It gets tough during this time to make new friends: both of us have coworkers who are significantly older than us not to mention Matt has not a single coworker in a happy relationship; we're not going to school full-time and I've never met a good friend in a class anyway (except when I was living in the dorms where I was likely to see more of people in my classes); and how else do you make new Couple Friends in your early- to mid-twenties? We have no kids therefore we're unable find common ground and befriend the parents of the children we send our kids on playdates with (ah, the vicious circle of "setting up" your children). The only other option it seems would be to set up our single friends with our other single friends, but unfortunately, that is an option we've already exhausted.

My mom - apparently suffering withdrawals from being detached from the ability to "set up" her kids as all of us are now married (or nearly married, in my case) - took it upon herself to call up one of her friends whose daughter and her husband also live in Reno, and since, we've been unable to escape the throes of having this couple shoved in our faces (we still haven't actually met them, so there's a good possibility that on their end they're also suffering the same spiel of us being such a "neat couple." Maybe one day if we do meet we'll find common ground on the topic of our nosy mothers/mother-in-laws). It started out with my mom calling Matt one day when she knew I wouldn't be home and cornering him into a conversation of how her friend's son-in-law and Matt have so much in common because Friend's S-I-L lays tiles for a living and Matt works with concrete for a living. She makes a point of mentioning how they're also having such a difficult time finding a nice couple to hang out with and leaves Matt with the couple's phone number (which incidentally, we totally forget about).

Next we had my mom's friend calling us (which honestly leaves me wondering if my mom called the other couple - do you suppose they discuss these things? That they have a "method"?). She left the world's longest message on our answering machine to the tune of some magical journey we could embark on with her daughter and son-in-law where we would retrieve the Holy Grail and save the world (I'm being mildly facetious there - the message was actually something about her son-in-law losing his assistant and how she was hoping Matt would know someone needing a job. The urgency of the need of a new employee seemed low, once again leaving me wonder if this is all part of the "method" - one couple helps the other couple out with a dilemma, couples bond, become the best of friends, everyone comes out happy, even parents who also happen to be friends with each other - I'm sure the moms have already planned a quadruple date).

Coincidentally (or please hope to GOD that it was merely a coincident), I happened to run into my mom's friend today - she was getting a pedicure at the salon where I have my nails done. She didn't spot me when I walked in the door, so I grabbed up a magazine and buried my face in it in the waiting area debating how rude it would be to pretend I didn't recognize her. Well. It registered pretty damn high on the Rude Scale, and I simply can't be that awful of a human being. I went over and said "hi," and she immediately asked we'd gotten her message the other night and if we planned on giving her daughter and son-in-law a call. I said yes, she said that was wonderful because she was certain me and her daughter would get along swimmingly (she didn't actually say "swimmingly"), and we exchanged the usual banter that is exchanged between a girl and her mom's friend.

After the incident at the salon, I called Matt and left him a message about how this couple must be our "couple soul mates" or something for the continued insistence from my mom, her mom, and now, apparently, God is in on this, too, so needless to say, we should probably call them. Or maybe it's all just a part of the "method."

Things with the wedding are great - I just can't seem to get a firm grasp on how quickly it's coming at us. We finally registered on Sunday, which ended up being a nightmare. Matt is the stereotypical "please don't make me do anything" groom, so I was grateful to get him to at least come register for gifts with me. Unfortunately, the first store has a very poor system for registering (and it's a big name store, too, but I'll spare them the publicity, be it good or bad) - they have one of those scanner guns, but they have no bar codes to scan!! One has to actually type in every single SKU number. Now, the whole reason we registered at this store in the first place was because Matt's mom recently bought us a very nice bread knife (don't ask...) at this store and we decided to register for the rest of the knife set. All the knives at this store are in a display and have NO VISIBLE SKU NUMBERS thereby making it extremely difficult and time consuming to register for these knives - while Matt, who has minimal patience when it comes to anything, stood around and looked at pots and pans, I had to wait for a new employee go through stock books, computer logs, and catalogs to find the SKU numbers for our knife set, and then, when she finally find them, I had to type them in as she read them off to me, each knife individually. Poor Matt - this is like his personal hell. Thankfully the other two places were much easier and would've been more enjoyable if the first store hadn't ruined Matt's entire day...

Yesterday I had my dress alteration appointment. It felt so great to have my dress on again, I almost broke down into tears. It just keeps getting closer and closer at an ever-quickening pace. As it turns out, I gained a little weight since I bought the dress, so where it was a little too big initially, it fits perfectly now (and I mean perfectly), so instead of having to pay for pricey take-ins, I only had to pay for a bustle for my train. I was telling the cashier how great it was that me gaining weight saved me some money and she told me I was the first bride she'd ever met who was actually glad to have gained weight. Well, if the dress fits....(get it? It's a play on the saying "if the shoe fits." Get it?? Har har). Also, after the help of an unnameable source, Matt was able to track down his long lost groomsman. Everything is falling into place beautifully - I only hope things stay this way. It's when things start to go wrong that I start to go crazy! :)~

Well, I'll Be Damned

I finally got my car back on Monday, and you'll never believe what was wrong with it. In fact, you might find it humorous considering that not only was I without my car for 2 weeks, but the first shop I'd brought it to had claimed defeat after a week and told me to take it to the dealership. God knows, I found it hilarious. Really. I think it's great that I was without my car for 2 weeks for a problem that could've been fixed in a day. Needless to say, my "speed dial mechanic" holds that title no longer. Here it is: the problem with my car, the reason that my fans would not shut off, is because of mice. Yes, as in the little gray rodents. They'd chewed up my wires and shorted a bunch of crap. My coolant was leaking because someone (be it Jiffy Lube or the mechanic formerly known as my speed dial mechanic) had put on my coolant flange WRONG. And my air conditioning, well, I don't know what was wrong with it - the guy might as well have been speaking jibberish when he explained the problem to me - but the important thing is that it works now and it didn't cost a fortune to fix (though thanks to Volkswagen charging $109 an hour for labor, it cost over $800 to fix everything).

After picking the car up, I felt a tiny bit of remorse about selling it. It's in excellent condition right now - running like new - and so it's been in the shop 3 times for major things, but what are the odds it'll happen again? It's so cute, so fun to drive; I have extremely mixed emotions about my car. The other day I saw a girl driving a rickety old Volvo and it was like a glimpse into my future with the Honda (believe me, there are days when I wish I could overcome my superficiality). When I alluded to my dad that I was thinking of not selling the Jetta, I thought he might climb through the phone and give me a good firm shaking. The Jetta has been nothing but problems, he does not want me driving such an unreliable car blah blah blah. And I know he's right - I know I want to keep the car for all the wrong reasons; despite it's major faults, I can't help but have a soft spot for it - it's just so damn cute!!

Nonetheless, the plan is still to sell it, drive the Honda for a while, and buy a new car at the end of the year when we're well away from the financial burdens of the wedding. Matt and I went to get some Chinese take-out last night, and while we were driving there, Matt said, "You know, one day we'll look back and laugh at the fact that we owned a Jetta." And he's absolutely right. Right now I still own it and I'm still attached to it on some weird emotional level, so I can't fathom not having it around to torment me with it's bizarre problems. I keep reminding myself how nice it'll be to have 6 - 7 months without a car payment, how we'll be able to save up a nice fat down payment for a brand new, fully functional car at the end of the year, how it is just a car, after all, and how one day we really will look back and laugh at the fact the we owned a Jetta.

This past weekend we had our "Catholic Engaged Encounter," which, I won't lie to you, was mind-numbingly boring. We'd listen to one of two married couples talk for a little while, separate to write our thoughts and feelings in a notebook, and then regroup with our fiance to read what each other wrote and discuss. I can see how the weekend would be beneficial to a couple who had communication problems or had just met (and I'd have to say in either case they probably shouldn't be getting married), but Matt and I have been together for nearly 4 years and lived together for almost as long and we'd already discussed all of this - I would think any couple getting married would discuss these topics, not just Catholics who're put through this weekend. I didn't think it was too tormenting - I could certainly think of worse ways to spend the weekend - but Matt...well, Matt thought it was worse than Kandahar, and I could've withstood the weekend just fine, but it was the 22 continuous hours at the retreat (and the hours after too) of listening to Matt complain that made the weekend horrendous. Matt claimed he was going out with his guy friends Sunday after we got out and by the time that rolled around, I was all but pushing him out the door. I love the hell out of the man, but God knows when he really doesn't want to do something, he won't shut up about it until he's free of it. After we received our certificate on Sunday, we left the chapel with Matt literally shoving me out the door, hissing "Go go go!" in my ear.

Wedding planning is otherwise going mostly splendidly - I do love an organizational challenge. Matt's had problems getting a hold of one of his groomsman, and after going through the archives in his email we discovered he hasn't heard from him since December. This has got me worried about filling an empty groomsman slot and it has Matt concerned about the well-being of his friend. The phone number Matt has for him is no longer good, and he's had a large number of emails go unreturned. Unfortunately his friend has just about the most common first name/last name combination ever, so searches in the white pages returned 13985710298 results. We tried Googling him and I mentioned Classmates.com as a possibility, but if he ever did put his info in at Classmates, it was probably in the same manner most everyone's put in information at Classmates - in passing with no intention to ever pay for a membership or update address information. His mom had a different last name that Matt can't remember, so it would seem our only remaining option is to try and find his brother through the army (who also has a different last name that Matt at least knows but can't remember how to spell). Does anyone have suggestions of finding people??

Next week we're mailing out invitations, and I can't quite believe that the ceremony is just over 2 months away. Matt proposed to me right before he deployed and during the deployment the wedding seemed aeons away. Suddenly it's barrelling upon us like a runaway freight train, and I find myself juggling an ever-growing to-do list (we haven't even registered yet!!). People keep asking me if I'm nervous - I hate the myth that everyone gets "cold feet." Nervous? No. Stressed out about getting everything done in time? Yes. But mostly I'm just really, really happy. I get to marry my best friend! I get to spend the rest of my life with the tall, dark, and handsome man of my dreams, and I can't wait :)~

The Fakers

I hate head colds more than any other sickness. Really. I'd rather have a chest cold or even the flu, but nothing makes me feel as disoriented and groggy as a head cold. This one seems to have settled only into my left side - only my left nostril is plugged, I can't hear out of my left ear. It's quite an anomaly. I've been popping DayQuil like candy, but nothing can shake the feeling that there's a fog clinging to my brain behind my eyes. I HATE being sick. Almost as much as I hate my car. ALMOST.

I felt fine yesterday morning and slowly but surely this cold crept up on me throughout the day and had me resting my head on my desk in full-blown misery by the end of the day. I called Matt at 4:30 and we briefly discussed me dropping off my Jetta at the dealership (I must admit, it felt GREAT to drive my own car even if it was just for 15 minutes. Despite how much of an electrical nightmare it is, it is the cutest, most fun car to drive) before I let loose on a tangent about the agony I was suffering. Matt - God love him - whipped together some homemade chicken noodle soup from scratch for me (which was delicious, BTW), kept me well drugged with generic cold relief meds, and even watched American Idol with me regardless that he really hates it. I love being babied when I'm sick - almost as much as I love babying Matt when he's sick.

Today I still feel like shit, but I have my own box of DayQuil (so I don't have to steal it out of my boss's desk) and since there's no kleenex in the office, I've been toting around a roll of toilet paper with me all day. I'm quite a sight, walking around with my DayQuil and toilet paper, infecting the entire office. I'd call in sick but since I took so many paid days off during Matt's deployment for his leave and when he got home, I have very few vacation hours left for the wedding and honeymoon, and one can't earn vacation hours if one doesn't work! Se la vie....

Yesterday I called an old friend to wish him a happy birthday, and it was the first time I'd talked to him for a long time because of unusual melodrama - the story behind this guy is a post all its own, hence the title "the fakers" (but I'm getting to that). For all extensive purposes, we'll call this guy "Bob" - more to protect his identity than anything because I don't doubt that if he were to ever stumble across my page there'd be no question as to who it is I'm talking about. You see, Bob is the one who introduced Matt and I.

Bob has never been a constant in either of our lives. He was my roommate when he introduced me to Matt, but after I moved in with Matt, he had a tendency to disappear from our lives for long periods of time and reappear when he needed something - he's one of those friends, the fair-weather kind. Before Matt deployed, we hadn't heard from him for at least 4 months, he didn't make an effort to see Matt before he left (though I'd left numerous messages on his voicemail that Matt was leaving on Jan 5), and so he never said goodbye and it wasn't until a while after Matt deployed and many phone messages later that Bob finally called to ask for the address to mail stuff to Matt (he never ended up mailing anything) and after that, I didn't hear from him again until the news started running stories about the unit's homecoming.

After Matt got home, Bob wouldn't STOP calling. He'd elbowed his way back into our lives full-force, and was being a little...strange...to say the least. All of a sudden he wanted Matt to go fishing with him, to go do all this stuff with him, to be the best of friends. Matt went fishing with him a couple times, but it got to the point where Bob started calling every single day about fishing, and after you haven't heard from someone for nearly a year and they abruptly start calling non-stop, well, it's just not normal. I came home from work one day to find Bob lingering in our driveway talking to Matt (about fishing no doubt), and as soon as I pulled up, he rapped on my window, I rolled it down and he said, "Can Matt go fishing with me? He told me I'd have to ask you." Please keep in mind that Matt had only been back a few weeks at this point, the deployment was still an open wound, and I was still suffering from Matt withdrawals, trying vainly to make up for lost time, and the fact that going back to work and maintaining normalcy was interferring with that was weighing heavily on me. I told him no. I told him I needed to spend more time with Matt and incidentally, we'd already planned on going couch shopping that day, so I told him that, too. Bob's response was, "What the f**k? You used to be COOL" and then he flipped me off.

"Fakers" is the term we've used to dub those who played little to no part in the deployment but expect to reap all the benefits of a homecoming. They pretend to be greatly affected by the absence of the person who was deployed regardless that they contributed nothing to help the loved ones that person left behind - it's like the person who does no work in a group project at school but still pulls off an 'A' because of the efforts of everyone else. It's ridiculous, it's unfair, and it's extremely inconsiderate of the people who really WERE deeply affected by the deployment (and even more inconsiderate if you happen to flip one of said people off because you believe you deserve some sort of retribution for doing absolutely nothing). Fakers can be friends or family members, and if you've ever experienced a deployment, you've more than likely crossed paths with one.

Bob is a faker. He's a faker with a motive. He made that motive terribly clear when he recently stopped by our house unannounced (I hate unexpected visitors - it's such a pet peeve - and they always overstay their welcome because they were never welcome to being with). He plopped down on our couch and made himself comfortable, apparently totally oblivious to the fact that we were in the middle of dinner, and he asked, "So what am I doing in your guys' wedding?" Now I pose this question to you given what you know from what I've told you in this post, does the fact that this person introduced us (and therefore played a small role in our "happily ever after") mean he should automatically be given a role in our wedding?

Matt has five groomsmen - three close childhood friends, one of our good mutual friends from Reno, and a guy he got to be good friends with while he was deployed - my brothers are ushers, and I have five bridesmaids (which is irrelevant since we're definitely not going to be putting Bob in a dress). There's really no room for Bob - we were planning on asking him to do a reading since we're having a mass with our ceremony, and that seemed ample, but we were both a little taken back that he had the audacity to assume he was in our wedding and to ask us about it, especially considering how little he's done as far as being a friend is concerned. Matt kind of sputtered over a nice way to answer Bob's bold-faced question, as I sat there with my mouth agape, totally speechless (an incredibly rare state for me to be in).

Interestingly enough, Bob's calls and requests to take Matt fishing completely ceased after that, and it wasn't until yesterday when I called to wish him a happy birthday (which was a total bust - his birthday was on the 10th, not the 16th) that we'd talked since then. I'm not really sure what to do in this situation - he's put us in kind of a weird position where we feel almost obligated to somehow include him in our wedding. He did introduce us, but it's not like he could even be a runner up for Friend of the Year. I think asking him to do a reading is substantial, but he's so melodramatic, I'm sure there'd be some bad blood between us always if we didn't stuff him in a tux as a groomsman - even our dog has a bigger role in the wedding. Ohhhh what to do...what to do...

Pick Your Title:"It Figgurs" or "Un-flipping-Believable"

We had a great weekend - Matt's parents came into town and we went to Tahoe to finalize all the rehearsal dinner details. It's going to be fantastic and I'm thoroughly excited for it! The dinner's going to be outside on patio overlooking the lake, we'll have a huge screen playing a DVD of pictures of Matt and I and pictures of when we were kids, the menu is mouth-watering, and we have free-range of a microphone (uh oh).

After much deliberation, I decided I want the entire dinner to be RED. My wedding colors are navy blue and white, but I bought this gorgeous red gown to wear to the rehearsal dinner, so instead of going overboard with the red, white, and blue (not to be unpatriotic - the colors together just aren't very wedding-y), the colors at the rehearsal dinner are going to be red and ivory. In my mind, it would be absolute sacrilege if the entire dinner didn't revolve around my dress.

Matt's mom is making all the rehearsal dinner invitations and response cards - since we're having a sit-down rehearsal dinner at a place that typically hosts receptions, we have to keep track of how many of each entree we need and thus it was decided it would simply be easier to send out separate invitations for the dinner. And this way we can have red invitations for the dinner and keep with the blue theme for the wedding - I don't mean to be hard to please, but I know exactly what I want our wedding to be like and for such an important day, I could hardly settle for anything less.

Saturday night Matt and I saw Frank Sinatra, Jr. (I'm an enormous Frank Sinatra fan and the show was called "Sinatra sings Sinatra." Actually, our first dance song at our wedding is a Frank Sinatra song. Anyway...) We had a great time - the show was nice, but I think it'd be pushing it to say it was great. Undoubtedly the music was wonderful, but instead of the typical "lounge show" that are common at Reno casinos (sitting at tables in a ballroom), we were all shoved into a conference room and forced to sit on the most uncomfortable chairs ever created - it certainly wasn't unbearable, but for 50 bucks a ticket, I expected something at least comfortable.

We also found ourselves sitting behind the apparent president of the Frank Sinatra fan club. It's the guy who not only knows every single song, but gets piss-your-pants excited over each and every one, the guy who yells out "I BOUGHT IT" when the artist plugs his CD, and this one was all but head banging....to Frank Sinatra. At the end of the show - before FS, Jr. had even said "good night" - he grabbed his wife and who I imagine was his mom (considering it was Mother's Day weekend) each by a wrist and literally drug them to the front of the room, most likely to bombard the stage. It was obvious his wife was mortified by her husband's behavior - I suppose it's possible that he could just love Frank Sinatra that much but I'm thinking alcohol played a small role - the man was way too over the top to be sober. It's tough to say he "ruined" our FS, Jr. experience because in all reality, he was actually pretty amusing.

Sunday we went out to brunch with Matt's mom and dad to celebrate Mother's Day and after they had headed back to Sacramento, we took our dog to the park because it was the most gorgeous day of the year yet. It saddens me to know it'll more than likely snow again - without fail, it snows in Reno/Tahoe every Memorial Day. I'm hoping this will be the one year it doesn't - it's supposed to be 90 tomorrow - but every year I hope it'll be "the one," it never is. Well, a girl can hope.

And oh, yes....my car - still don't have it. Today is Day Eight, and there is absolutely no hope of getting it back today or probably even tomorrow. I've kind of reached my breaking point with this whole ordeal - I called Matt BAWLING on Friday when I got the call that I wouldn't have my car for the weekend, and I know that my sobbing won't alleviate the situation any, but it's incredibly frustrating to try and work out two entirely different schedules with only one car, and it's terribly exasperating that I have such an unreliable car. When I talked to the mechanic on Friday, he said there was a guy who specialized in Volkswagens coming in to take a gander at it on Monday and hopefully they'd get it back to me by Monday. Nope. I waited until 4:30 yesterday afternoon before I called them. I talked to a receptionist who really had no idea what was going on, and I feel slightly bad because, well, they've had my car for so damn long and I wanted to talk to someone who could tell me what was going on, and I made that crystal clear to her.

Apparently the fan module wasn't what was wrong with it. They don't know what's wrong with it - they'd completely taken my car apart and were totally stumped. So I'll get to pick up my car today (after they put it back together again), but only to drive it for 15 minutes or so to bring it to Lithia Volkswagen - this shop has admitted defeat and suggested I take it to the dealership for repairs. On the plus side, I don't have to pay for any parts and labor from this shop; since they couldn't fix it, I don't have to pay for it. I think that's very nice of them, especially since there's no doubt in my mind the dealership will probably cost twice as much. When I called the VW dealership yesterday to schedule my Jetta in for maintenance, the guy said it's $200 just to DIAGNOSE my air conditioning. I sputtered some obscenity in disbelief - I mean, really, it's just proof positive that Nazis STILL are in charge of Volkswagen. I think when I drop it off I'll tell them to fix everything else that's wrong with it first and once I know how much that's going to cost me, then I'll decide whether or not I care enough to get my A/C fixed.

In light of all this, I have totally swallowed my superficiality and come to the realization that I cannot and will not drive such an awful car for the next 5 - 8 months of my life. Matt's parents have an extra car that desperately needs to be driven - it was Matt's grandma's, only has about 27,000 miles on it, and now spends most of its days collecting dust in a garage (except on Thursdays and Fridays when Matt's mom drives it to work so it can stretch its wheels). It's a 1990 Honda (Civic or Accord, I don't remember) and they have very graciously offered to let me use this car for as long as I need. As soon as we get the Jetta back, we're going to put it up for sale and rid ourselves of this nightmare. It's a great time to sell it - just out of the shop it'll be in tip-top mechanical condition - and I have, in fact, worried myself sick over this Jetta (seriously - I've fretted over it so much, I now have a cold).

Originally the plan was to pay massive amounts on the Jetta monthly so that when we traded it in we wouldn't be upside down on the loan, and in addition to a couple thousand, it would be a substantial down payment on a new car. After a lot of thought, we realized we can have just as big a down payment (if not bigger) if we just sell the Jetta now, rid ourselves of a car payment for the next few months, and save money instead of continually throwing it at the Jetta. Not to mention the thought of having a car that won't consistently have weird ass shit go wrong with it - despite how old and boxy it is - is a very appealing one. So today the Jetta goes from mechanic's shop to service department at Lithia Volkswagen and we wait some more, we stretch ourselves thin over our single, solitary vehicle for the time being, and when we finally get the damn thing back, we joyfully run ads in the paper, on the internet, and even tape up a sign inside the car and rid ourselves of the f**ker.

[Insert Expletive Here]

Are you there God? It's me, Erika.

I would really appreciate it if You could find it in your heart to somehow get my car back to me today. We're going on Day Four here, and while I know certainly it's not YOUR fault that my car is such an awful piece of crap, there's got to be something You can do - a wave of the hand to just miraculously fix it, or perhaps an epiphany to the mechanic working on it - to get it back to me today.

I think my coworkers are starting to become concerned as I've taken up silently chanting to my cell phone in hopes that the mechanic is capable of communication via ESP and will pick up my brain waves that I not only want - but desperately NEED - my car. I think my friends detest me for the insanely long and whiny email I sent out yesterday that I wrapped up with the statement that, "...if you think your car has problems, just think how much worse it could be if it were a VW Jetta."

You see God, I've lost sleep over this car - I stay awake at night feeling guilty for the lives it's affected (me for not having a car, Matt for having to give up his truck so that I could drive it, Matt's coworker for having to become Matt's personal chaffeur) and fretting over how much this is going to cost me and how much that will inevitably affect our honeymoon. It's disheartening to get the phone call every day that begins with, "We're hoping to have it back to you by tomorrow", to have the people who're TRAINED to know how to fix this stuff tell you that your car is "a nightmare." I want to cry, I want to scream - I certainly don't need to tell You how uncomfortable I am in a situation I can't control.

God, You know better than anyone that I'm not one to pray for silly, frivolous things, but the absence of my car has made the transition from inconvenient into ludicrous, and anything You can do would be a big help. In all honesty, I gotta tell Ya, despite how much I hate the Jetta, I must admit - I miss it a little.....

Amen.

Update at 3:27 p.m.: Just thought I'd let you all know I won't be getting my car back today. Hopefully Monday, but currently I'm doubting if I'll ever get it back. In the words of the mechanic, "We fix one thing, and another thing breaks." Whoo. Well, on the plus side, if they can't figure out what's wrong with it and end up having to send it to the dealership, I won't have to pay for anything.

This Moment Brought to you by Matt and Erika

I'm not going to post about my car. I know - I'll give you a moment to recover from that. All you need to know is that I still don't have it and I vehemently hate it. Instead this post is about one of those moments - the ones that couples have that are unique to that couple and reaffirm just exactly why you love this person so much, when you say to yourself, Oh that's so typical of Matt [or insert your significant other's name here], and that's the kind of stuff that made me fall in love with him.

Matt's parents live in Sacramento, which is a boring (albeit scenic) 2 hour drive from Reno (and despite what that sentence may have led you to believe, this post is not about the drive so the fact that it's boring and scenic is terribly irrelevant). This is the time of year where the strawberries in California are the ripest and yummiest and are considerably easy to come by - you can't throw a rock without hitting a wooden shack (I'm tempted to call them kiosks) selling strawberries. When we went out to Sacramento last weekend to visit Matt's grandma, his mom had bought us a pallet of these mouth-wateringly delicious strawberries, which is a LOT of strawberries. Undoubtedly, I love these strawberries, but they go bad fast, so suddenly you're hard pressed to stuff your face with them or else risk wasting food. In short, I love them, but not THAT much.

Matt's parents are coming out to Reno this weekend, and since I don't possess the ability to say no to Matt's mom, she informed us she'll be bringing out another pallet of strawberries for us regardless that we're barely even halfway through the first pallet. UGH. It's hard to stomach all these strawberries - I think the only fruit I could eat indefinitely would be raspberries - so we've started making strawberry shakes, and Matt makes a really good strawberry shake. Ice-cream shop quality.

On Tuesday, Matt decided he wanted a strawberry shake so I asked him to make me one, too since he was making one for himself anyway. He asked me if I would mind making them and I declined for two reasons: 1. He's way better at making them, and 2. I was watching House. I'd just as soon go strawberry-shakeless than miss a second of House. And I told him so, so begrudginly he got up to make shakes, saying, "Fine, I'll make you a shake, but it's going to be a small one." I told him that was fine, I didn't want a huge one anyway.

Matt makes the shakes, I crank up the surround sound when the blender is going and huff and moan because I can't hear what smart ass remarks Dr. House is making to his patients, Matt turns off the blender and tells me it's too loud and to turn it down. This goes on until Matt finishes the shakes and then hands me - he's so silly, God do I love him - a shot glass filled with strawberry shake. "That's all you get. I said I was making you a small one."

Car Update

Just a brief post to update those who care (and to drive crazy and torture those who do not) about the status of my car. My wonderful, wonderful car. .: sigh :.

WELL. They (meaning my mechanic) put a new fan switch in - cost me a pretty penny too - and that got the fans to stop going crazy. But in the spirit of my Jetta, the solution could not be this simple. Jettas are irrefutable proof that "Occam's Razor" is bullshit.

Anyway.

Before the end of the day yesterday, They called me to inform me that I would not be getting my car back that day. Fine. I figured as much. None of my car's trips to the mechanics have EVER been a day trip - why, it'd be an anomaly of the highest degree. When I still hadn't heard from Them around 1 this afternoon, I started to get a little nervous so I called to get an update. I'd barely given the guy the first syllable of my first name when he interrupted me with, "Oh, the Jetta. Right. Well....."

So They got the fans to stop their incessant fanning, but now the car wouldn't stop overheating - that's an ALL new problem, sure my coolant was leaking and my fans were working overtime, but the car had never overheated. They were going to put in a new thermostat and hopefully that would solve the problem (huge emphasis on the "hopefully" there). I'm chewing my arm off at this point, contemplated the consequences for dropping the car off in Mexico and telling my insurance company it was stolen (no, not really).

They call me around 3:30 to let me know that the fan switch - the brand new one that I just spent a good amount of money on - won't "stick," whatever the f*** that means, and the fans are not shutting off again. I am LIVID. Not at the mechanic, of course - it's not HIS fault my car is the anti-Christ. He procedes to tell me that They are "baffled" and had to consult with the Volkswagen dealership. The new theory is that there's something awry with my fan module, which coincidently would explain my coolant leak, my fans not shutting off, AND my malfunctioning A/C (three problems, which, I may remind you, were supposedly "unrelated"). So it just so happens that the dealership has a fan module in stock and are going to bring it by the mechanics, but if you've ever had to buy a part from a dealership, well, you can imagine how I'm feeling right now. They're not cheap. It's looking now like this trip to the shop is going to cost in excess of $600, and if you would please excuse me, I need to go vomit now.

The Jiffy Lube Theory

I once had a friend who drove one of those Volkswagen New Beetles - you know, the cute bubbly kind. I talked to him quite a bit about the quality of VWs before I purchased my Jetta, and I distinctly remember him telling me that the only place he could get his oil changed was the Volkswagen dealership - that Jiffy Lube or the like wouldn't do it because it was a "German engineered car" and that somehow made changing the oil that much trickier than, say, on a Japanese- or American-made car. I found this a little unbelievable and asked him if he'd tried going somewhere other than the dealership or if this was something the dealership had told him. It was something the dealership had told him, the cunning bastards! I took my Jetta to Jiffy Lube and was not shunned because I was driving a "German engineered car" (though, truth be told, it was actually manufactured in Mexico).

I HATE Jiffy Lube and have recently managed to link them back to my continual problem with leaking coolant. I know, I'm nuts, right? How could JIFFY LUBE have anything to do with my coolant springing a leak not once, not twice, but THRICE. Fine then, I'll tell you.

Jiffy Lube trains their "mechanics" to be a bunch of money hungry conniving bastards. I go there for convenience - there's a Jiffy Lube close to my office, there's a Jiffy Lube close to my house, and they really do live up to their name of being "jiffy" - and despite consistently trying to siphon an extra $20 - $100 out of me, I must admit that I've never had a complaint about their customer service. But that's just the thing - the you need this, this, and this done to your car in addition to an oil change. Look, I brought the thing in so you could change my oil, so change my freaking oil!! Without fail, every single time I bring my car in for an oil change, I need a) a new air filter; b) a $60 "engine flush"; c) a radiator flush; or d) all the above. It doesn't matter if I said yes the previous time, they tell me I "need it" the next time. Really? So you're telling me that the air filter you gave me 3,000 miles ago is so crappy, I already need a new one?

It wasn't until about a year of driving the car that I started really having problems with it (though the "check engine light" came and went sporadically during that entire year) and it wasn't until a trip to Jiffy Lube that I first started having issues with my coolant. They had told me I needed a "radiator flush," I said no, and I remember it struck me as terribly coincidental that shortly thereafter I started having issues with my coolant. That was when the misfiring cylinder started causing issues with the performance of my car (nothing quite like trying to get going on 3 cylinders), I brought my car into a mechanic recommended by a friend (who has since become my speed dial mechanic), had the leaking coolant fixed while it was in, and everything was just fine until I went to Jiffy Lube and got my oil changed at which time the coolant light started going crazy again. Hmmmmm.

I ignored it - as I so often do when lights start blinking and beeping in my car (I like to think it'll go away on its own) - and in December when I had to have my car towed to my speed dial mechanic because it absolutely refused to start despite how many times I turned the key and the string of insults and curse words I yelled at it, I had them fix the leaking coolant again. And again, it was just fine (say it with me now) until I went to Jiffy Lube. Granted, it could be just an incredibly strange coincidence, but strange coincidence or not, I no longer plan on getting my oil changed at Jiffy Lube. In fact, I'm starting to think there's something to this "only get your oil changed at the dealership" thing.

My speed dial mechanic called me this morning to let me know that in addition to the problems I had listed off to him over the phone yesterday and in person this morning, I also needed new brake pads because (to quote him) I had virtually "no front brakes." I trust he's not trying to get a few extra bucks out me because he never has before and because I have noticed the ear-drum-exploding, finger-nails-down-a-chalk-board sound of my brakes squealing, most notably when I'm in reverse. Luckily the warranty will be covering my leaking coolant; after 100,000 miles my warranty becomes null and void. Guess how many miles I have on my car? 99,960, I shit you not. Looks like I brought it in just in the nick of time, and to anyone who, like me, decides to purchase a Jetta despite all signs pointing to "DON'T F**KING DO IT," I strongly suggest you make sure you can get a warranty with it and you do it in full force. I paid about $1000 to purchase the extended warranty and so far the warranty has paid for about $700 in repairs, so I lost $300 on the cost of the warranty, but that's better than having had to pay for those $700 in repairs out of pocket.

From the sounds of it, I should be getting my car back tomorrow (pending they can exorcise the demons from my cooling fans). I put up a picture of an A4 as the wallpaper on my work computer as a reminder of why I have to drive the Jetta for the next 8 months. When I told Matt that, he started laughing and said the Jetta's not "THAT big of a piece of shit." Easy for him to say - he doesn't have to drive it every day. :)~

On Jettas

I know I've had a lot to say about my car as of late, but GOSH it's infuriating, so I have a few more things to say about it (and will probably have a few more in the coming days), so please bare with me here. I need to vent.

We've decided to get the car fixed. In fact, I'm bringing it to the mechanic tomorrow morning and am crossing my fingers that I'll have it back by the weekend. I often wonder how I survived in the days before I turned 16; I've become so dependent on my car, the biggest pain in the butt of it breaking down isn't necessarily how much it'll affect my wallet, but the fact that I won't have my car. Undoubtedly, though, I'm not extremely happy about having to take money away from the wedding to fix the most unusual of problems. I have to disrupt the lives of one of my coworkers to make them drive out of their way to come pick me up at the mechanic after I drop it off tomorrow morning, Matt's going to pick me up after work, and then he'll carpool until I get the Jetta back so I can take his truck to work everyday (Boy do I love him - he's so selfless...and I need the truck more since I can't carpool as NONE of my coworkers live in our part of town).

I felt like a worried mother listing off the irksome symptoms of her sick child. They pretty much know me by name at the mechanics. Next they'll know the sound of my voice, I'm sure. "Problems with the Jetta again, huh?" Well, I'm hoping after this bout of throwing money at it, it'll hang in there until we trade it in and it becomes someone else's problem.

I remember the first time I drove that damn car, how much I loved it, how my butt started to get hot and I discovered to my delight that the car had heated seats. I loved everything about it - the sleek black body (not nearly as boxy as the older models), the cute antenna sprouting out the back like a little tail, the moon roof, the leather interior, the heated seats. We'd looked at Jettas at so many other dealerships, I was absolutely sick to death of car shopping and salesmen. When my boss mentioned to me that one of her friends worked at a dealership and they had a 2000 VW Jetta sitting on their lot, I was down there checking it out within 20 minutes. And I fell in love with it before I even drove it because I'm superficial and it was beautiful. I couldn't believe my ears when he told me the price - $2,000 less than every other 2000 Jetta we'd looked at and this one had LEATHER INTERIOR. The test drive sold it; I just couldn't take it home till I finished some paperwork and got approved for financing.

I remember that same night taking Matt by the lot to show him the car. It was late so there were no salesman hanging around, but there it was, parked it the front lot with a big orange "SOLD" sign hanging from the rearview mirror. I was giddy. I remember taking Matt to the dealership that weekend so that he could test drive it; I remember the day I brought in my down payment and got to take the car home. I think of all those memories of the car - like it were the birth of a child - and it breaks my heart that, looks be damned, it's just a piece of shit. With leather interior. LOL.

I was reading through my old posts about the Jetta on my old blog and it made me laugh (albeit out of the ability to relate and not so much out of humor) to find someone had recently left their "Jetta story" in my comments. It seems that everyone who's ever owned one has their own story of problems they withstood and while it may seem easy to argue that ALL cars experience their share of problems at some point or another, there is nothing quite like the kinds of problems that befall the Jettas. I have yet to meet a Jetta owner that doesn't have a complaint about the car - I imagine if the car were to morph into a human, it would be a drop dead gorgeous high maintenance hypochondriac bitch.

It seems appropriate that I paid about $2000 less than the Kelly Blue Book value of the car because that's about the same amount of money I've put into repairs of the car in the last year (and that's NOT including the regular maintenance I've had done, i.e., oil changes, fixing burnt out headlights, getting new tires). Here's a list of what's ailing my car this go round:

1. The coolant is leaking. AGAIN. The FIRST time I brought my car in (for the misfiring cylinder), I had a coolant leak fixed. The SECOND time I brought my car in because it wouldn't start, I had a coolant leak fixed. Now, again, that awful little red coolant light blinks and beeps at me every time I start the car and in intervals of about every 5 minutes thereafter. I topped it off and that got the beeping and flashing light to stop for about a week, but it's back at it again.
2. The engine fans are possessed. They continue to run for 5 - 10 minutes after I shut the car off, every single time. The interesting thing is that the car is not overheating and the fans go on even if I don't start the engine - if I just turn on the accessories to, say, roll up my windows, the engine fans will start running like mad. They're overworking. Fabulous.
3. And, as aforementioned, the air conditioning is not working, which apparently is the least of my problems...

I asked the mechanic if they could all be related - it certainly SOUNDS like they should all somehow be playing a part in the malfunctioning of each other - and he said probably not. To him, they sounded like 3 pretty unrelated problems. Exasperating, but not at all surprising - NONE of my cars problems have ever been related.

Ultimately it was decided that the best thing to do would be to get it fixed - it will be worth more as a trade-in, I'll have air conditioning for the summer. I was thinking we could just hold off until after the wedding and get it fixed then; it sounded a little crazy to be getting the air conditioning fixed in September when I no longer needed it, and surely we could've survived the whole summer, but it was the other two problems that were the determining factors in bringing the car in instead of waiting on it. Actually, we were driving home the other night after seeing M:iIII (which I thoroughly enjoyed, by the way) and my coolant alarm started beeping at me and it was Matt who decided we had to cut into the wedding fund. His exact words were, "If you don't take this piece of shit in to get it fixed, I'm going to take a bat to it." Of course, my smart ass response was, "Only if I can have a few swings at it, too!"

I was reading an article at ConsumerReports.org about used car buying - pointers on getting the best car for the best price - and one of the tips it provided was "not to fall in love with a particular model." Oops. I've always fallen in love with a model - that's how I do my car shopping - I buy my cars for purely cosmetic reasons. I wanted a Toyota Tacoma - so my first car was a Toyota Tacoma. I wanted a VW Jetta - so I shopped for a VW Jetta (and only a VW Jetta - I was insulted when it was suggested by a salesman that I buy a Taurus instead). The Tacoma was incredible - I can't say enough good things about that truck, and if you want a reliable, well-built car, truly, Toyota is the route to take. When I bought the Jetta, I sold the Tacoma to Matt and even though it's become a little rickety in the transformation to a work truck (with all those dirt roads, it's only natural that the belts would start to squeal a little), it's still going strong at 130,000 miles. My Jetta - 5 years and 30,000 miles newer - is no competition in reliability to this truck. The truck has been to the shop less in the last 8 years than the Jetta was in just 2005.

Admittedly, I've also already made a pretty firm decision in the purchase of my next car, the A4. But that's just how I shop for cars - much like I shop for groceries, I go in with a list and get what I came for. However, I have learned from the errors I made in the purchase of my Jetta. I got a membership to ConsumerReports.org and have extensively researched the dependability of the Audi A4 (and have come to the decision that it would be foolish to buy anything older than a 2004). This car has to last us at least 5 years (or until we can afford our Mercedes - I have expensive taste), so it's important that we purchase something that won't end up costing us thousands of dollars in repairs. I'm not totally attached to the A4 just yet - I really like the Mazda6 and the Toyota Corolla and if we purchased one of those, we'd be able to buy a 2007 instead of getting a used car, and I must admit that I have somewhat of a soft spot for the new Toyota Yaris (the sedan. I hate hatchbacks) - but I do have a tendency to point out every single Audi A4 we see on the street and I have been known to make sexually lewd comments when one passes us on the freeway (that really cracks Matt up).

Well, we'll see. In my mind I'm already driving something else. I have to wait 8 months before I can finally rid myself of this nightmare (I'm fully convinced that "nightmare" is synonymous with "Jetta"), but hopefully we'll be able to go 8 months without any further problems (let's cross our fingers, right? So far the record for "longest time out of the shop" with the Jetta is 6 months). I'll update again when I find out the diagnosis...

.:Sigh:.

There's always something not quite right. Nothing's ever perfect, so life (or my butt and my car in this case) always manages to surprise you with a left hook. The glass is either half empty or half full, but how come the damn thing is never just FULL? Where the heck is my waitress?!? I digress...

So things aren't really that hectic, but my claim to fame is making mountains out of molehills (gosh, Erika, why don't you throw a couple more cliches into the post....). First, my car. If you've been an avid reader of mine since Military Bride, you're familiar with the relationship I have with my car - what a joy it was for me during Matt's deployment, never causing me any sort of strange and costly problem (if you weren't an avid reader and just recently tuned in, that last statement is just oozing with sarcasm). There was the time my cylinder was misfiring (not to mention the leaking coolant, the wheel bearings, and the cracked belt). And then there was a few months later in December when the damn thing wouldn't even start (if you want to sift through the post to read about the car, it's in like the 7th paragraph).

Matt and I have decided that we're going to sell the Jetta at the end of the year, which means I have to put up with it for at least another 8 months, and of course, in the spirit of any masochistic car, something would have to go wrong in those 8 months (yes, I know it's "inanimate," but seriously, the damn thing gets a kick out of breaking down and pissing me off). I hate the thing so much, it kills me that it's just about the cutest car ever. Well. Don't judge a book by it's cover (there it is! I knew there's be another cliche before the end of this post). Now it's the air conditioning. Normally this isn't a HUGE deal - the truck I had before the Jetta had no air conditioning and I survived many a summer in it. But that was in Tahoe where the hottest summer day averaged around 80 degrees. Reno gets HOT. Granted, it's really not much competition for places like Phoenix and Las Vegas that hang out in the triple digits for most of the summer, but we do break 100 quite frequently, and if there's anyone in the world who hates heat more than me, you'd be hard pressed to find them.

The worst part of the whole ordeal is the gorgeous black leather seats I absolutely HAD to have; they were the selling point in me buying the car. I didn't think ahead to the summer - to the pain in the ass of always having to put up one of those windshield screens, to always have to cover the driver's seat with a blanket or towel or else suffer what I imagine is something very similar to hell. If you've never sat down on a black leather seat after it's been basking in a hot summer sun all day, I envy you, you lucky bastard. Oh yeah, and the car is black, too. So picture for me if you will, a black car with black leather seats parked in a sunny parking lot on hot July day in Reno (which usually ranges around 95 - 105 degrees). Now imagine that car has no air conditioning. The intelligent thing to do in this situation would be to get it fixed, but that would mean dipping way too deep into the wedding fund which is...well...it's sacrilege. In December/January we're going to spurlge a little and buy an Audi (you'd think after the Volkswagen I'd never drive a German car again, but you'd be wrong); I told Matt I'd die a horrible death before I ever got black leather seats again. Tan would be okay though. When I was searching consumer reports on Audis, I found (not very surprisingly) that a 2000 VW Jetta was ranked one of the worst buys for used cars. Go figure.

And then there's the matter of my butt (which is completely unrelated to the matter of my car, incase you were wondering to yourself, WTF?). A lot of people eat when they're stressed out. Then there's the people like me who don't eat when there's a lot on their plate (pun intended). I get stressed, I can't eat. I lost a LOT of weight while Matt was deployed (and I say that with disdain). I'm 5' 7" and at my worst during the deployment I weighed 105 lbs. That's disgusting; I was practically emaciated. When I went to see Matt at Ft. Sill before he left for Afghanistan, he expressed genuine concern for my eating habits in his absence. I think his exact words were something like, "Jesus. Have you been eating at all??"

As you may recall, I was working out like a maniac right before Matt got home to kill excess energy. I was a good deal healthier - somewhere around the middle of the deployment when I started to get the hang of it, I was eating normally again (I can't say "healthy again" because I kind of doubt whether or not my definition of "normal" is synonymous with "healthy." I love cereal for dinner and have many other similar habits) - and was working my butt off. Or rather, working my butt up. Now I toe the line between 125 and 130 lbs (it fluctuates depending on the time of the month, if you know what I mean). Lots better. I don't look so sickly anymore.

Nonetheless gaining 20 pounds is gaining 20 pounds (and with all my working out, my butt is kind of bubbly now. Like I said, I worked my butt up. I rather like it...). When I decided last weekend that the weather has gotten nice enough that it's time to break out the shorts, I found, much to my dismay, that I do not own a single pair of shorts that fit. One pair that I literally used to be swimming in (I called them my "buttless shorts" 'cause, yup, you guessed it, they made me look like I didn't have a butt), I couldn't even get over my hump (my hump, my lovely lady lump...sorry, I couldn't resist). I was prancing around the room doing the Fit Dance (you know, the hip wiggle, the lay-on-the-the-floor-and-TUG, just please FIT, dammit!). I got them on, but it wasn't pretty. Thank God my favorite capris still fit (a little snug, but at the very least it's not a battle getting into them).

I just bought a fantastic pair of bermuda shorts at Target, but they're black, and certainly I can't wear them all summer, so after the weekend war of my Butt vs. my Shorts, I decided it was high time I buy some new shorts (we're also driving to Sacramento this weekend and the thought of making that hot ass drive 2 hour drive in a car with no air conditioning without shorts makes me cringe). I took a trip to Kohl's on my lunch break today (I'm just crazy about Kohl's) and find it terribly amusing that I called Matt "frivolous" a few posts ago because while I had gone in for a pair of shorts, I left with not only that, but also two new shirts and new pair of dress slacks for work (I've also learned that I love Daisy Fuentes). I felt so guilty leaving the store - especially after all the grief I'd given Matt for those God damn sausages - the first thing I did was leave a rather lenghty message on his voicemail trying to validate my spending. He'll love that message when he gets it...LOL. I guess we're both a little imprudent in our own ways. Admittance is the first step to recovery! Besides, now that I don't have to worry about particular colors bringing out the orangey undertones of my hair color, a few new outfits were in order :)~

A Trip Down Memory....Freeway....

Well, we didn't go line dancing on Friday (much to my utter dismay, as you can well imagine). Matt's coworker's girlfriend (whose name is Roxanne and who indirectly caused me to have that song by the Police stuck in my head for the duration of the weekend) wasn't able to make it, so you can guess how upset I was. My friends were pretty upset too - after I'd told them I was going line dancing and they'd had a good laugh about it, they said I should bring a video camera because this was something they just HAD to see. Thanks guys. Thanks a lot. Of course, they were genuinely upset that I didn't go dancing; apparently they receive great joy from me making a fool of myself.

Instead of doing the boot-scootin' boogie, Matt and I went and got a bite to eat, Matt got a migraine (he gets a lot of those - runs in the family), so I rented Tristan and Isolde, took Matt home to baby him, and watched my movie as soon as he fell asleep (actually, he was still awake when I started it. I was reading him the opening credits and the next thing I knew, he was out...he's not as big a fan of tragic romances obviously).

We got all of our concrete work finished on Friday and it looks spectacular. I'll post pictures when the yard is totally done (we still have to get our wrought iron fence installed and get sod laid). For a while we had release all over our concrete, which is this powdery substance that dyes the concrete (I think...Matt would better be able to describe the purpose of this stuff, but he's not here, so instead you get my half-assed description. Anyway, the important part is there was this colored powder all over our concrete) - this stuff was a nightmare. Our poor dog has suffered an extremely sad existence during the remodeling of our yard - he has nothing to romp and play in, can only go outside for brief amounts of time to potty, and has spent a good deal of time cooped up in the garage when we're not home. During his potty runs, he took the opportunity to get as much of this release as possible all over himself. Between him and our two cats, our typically spotless house was a mess with black paw prints EVERYWHERE - all over the kitchen and bathroom floors (tile), all over the kitchen counters (thanks to the cats), all over our brand new couch (thankfully, it's true what they say about microfiber...it does clean extremely easily). Our dog went from border collie to black lab, and even after a good vigorous scrubbing, some of this dye has still insisted on sticking to his pristine white legs.

On Saturday morning Matt had to run to the North Valleys (small towns north of Reno that we Reno-ites have fondly grouped into one generalization: "the North Valleys") to drop off some things to one of his coworkers. I rode along with him so he wouldn't be obligated to work on a Saturday (pretty sneaky) and we grabbed a bite to eat at a dingy casino (though I must say, for being so dingy, the food was delicious). The drive back down 395 into Reno was somewhat of an emotional experience for me, especially being in Matt's truck. The deployment hasn't been a common topic of conversation between Matt and I. Every now and then we'll allude to spending nearly 15 months apart, but for the most part, it doesn't come up. There's really nothing to be said about it that hasn't already been said and sometimes I even doubt the existence of it. Did this really just happen? It sure doesn't feel like it. It's a vague memory; a blurred vision.

However, the Army National Guard base is in the North Valleys and the last time I'd driven down 395 in Matt's truck was a snowy morning, barrelling after a charter bus. While we were driving back to Reno after breakfast - despite the fact that Matt was with me - I was fighting back tears. It was like I was hit with an enormous brick wall and suddenly I felt the full force of everything I felt that awful morning I said goodbye to Matt for I-didn't-even-know-how-long. I reached out and grabbed Matt's hand and said, "Babe, I don't ever want to spend 15 months without you ever again." "You won't ever have to," was his response and he squeezed my hand. He didn't ask where my extremely random statement had come from. I don't think he needed to; there was something terribly somber about driving down that freeway. He was sitting right next to me, but my heart was breaking horribly because I remembered how it felt to miss him.

On to happier subjects...

Saturday afternoon I got my hair fixed. Fixed, indeed!! After the colorist washed out my hair and turned me to face the mirror, I was nearly peeing my pants in anticipation. It looks FABULOUS. No more apricot undertones. Here's my before picture (taken with an awful facial expression for an extra I-hate-my-hair-like-this effect):


Perhaps it's not as bad as I had lead everyone to believe. God knows I took the Before Picture and thought to myself, well, it's not that bad. I even started to think that maybe the extremely orangey yellow tones came from my parent's camera (here you can see a picture of me taken with my parent's camera for hair color comparison), but when I told my mom last week that I was going to a color specialist to get my color fixed, her severely mother-like response was, "Oh thank GOD. You would've just hated it if you'd gotten married with your hair looking like that. Imagine how the photos would've turned out!" I sure do love my mom...being brutally honest is one of her best (and worst) attributes. Here's my after picture (completely with a painfully dorky expression and a thumbs up for a job well done. Excuse the terrible photo - this seems to be a bad angle for me):


MUCH BETTER, RIGHT? Well, I think so anyway. Matt said he didn't even realize how bad it looked before till he saw how good it looks now (riiiight. That just means he didn't want to hurt my feelings before, God love him). I absolutely adore it - I've never been this blonde, and now I don't think I could ever go back to my icky dark natural shade. I can only imagine how it'll look even BETTER once summer rolls around and I get a tan. Ah, and for those of you wanting to see Matt in his cowboy hat, you can check it out on my Flickr. He actually looks quite sexy though that picture doesn't do it justice - he kept turning away from the camera and tearing the hat off right as I pressed the clicker. I'll get a good photo though...it's my new mission for the week LOL.