Drive my car

When our vehicles were smashed in December (by the dead tree across the street that finally succumbed to wind), Mother was awaiting her back surgery and said not to worry – “You can drive my car,” she said. She wouldn’t be driving for some time , and she wouldn’t have been able to climb into the Jeep for her doctors’ appointments, to which I’ve been taking her.

But she’s back to driving as of today – she passed her driving test Friday (with me as the skills-appraiser) and has her surgeon’s approval to drive wearing her brace. I got her car detailed yesterday and returned it to her.

We’re still in car limbo – the Liberty, which John has been driving, looks new after the much-delayed repairs. It’s a 2006 with just over 30,000 miles on it, so we’re keeping it indefinitely.

Tree down, truck out.

Tree down, truck out.

OuchThe truck is still smashed – the property owner’s insurance agent says the city owns the tree (I don’t see how), and the city says it’s an act of god.  That dance isn’t over, but since we’d just dropped the truck down to liability insurance only, smashed it remains, for now.

The tailgate is a challenge, but the truck still runs.

The tailgate is a challenge, but the truck still runs.

The plan is for John to drive the jeep, relegate the truck to construction-use only and buy a new (red) car. We’re closing in on a high-mpg cutie for me, but I’m not going to count my chickens. More on that after it happens.

In other car doings, we sold Papa Bill’s little Hyundai to our neighbors across the street for their teenage daughter. The first day I opened the blinds and saw it sitting there, it was disconcerting, but now it’s comforting to see it being loved and well taken care of. I’m glad it has a good home.

The car saga continues. But what I really want to address today how curveballs can throw your game of life.

Mother’s doing extremely well surgery-wise. Her general health remains a serious concern, the downturn of which, though we knew it could happen, still caught us off guard. (Things like that always do, I suppose.) Not as much as Bill’s sudden and horrific death, but the two together have made it harder to get back on track – including blogging as regularly as I’d like.

But, in all honesty, commitment has never been my strongest suit. Exercise/fitness/health, yes. Mothering, yes. Those have been the most consistent things in my adult life, along with attention-hopping from one thing to another.

I kept a diary once for an entire year (fifth grade) just for the experience of doing it – and was greatly relieved when that year of commitment was up. I made straight As one grading period in the fourth grade, just for the experience and to prove I could do it (even managed to make one in what used to be called “conduct”), but once was enough. I immediately went back to my slacker “if I make an A fine, if I don’t, oh, well” attitude.

I outgrew that by the time I went back to college as the mother of two toddlers – since then (including grad school) it’s been all As. Nothing less would do. But I digress, as usual.

But I do still hop from one thing to another. My son-in-law says I’m in my “apron-obsession phase.” NewApronMaybe, but I sewed like a fiend for 20+ years, then as needed for another 10, before giving it up forever until a year ago. It was a return to an old hobby, and I’m not over it yet. It’s just been on the back burner of late.

I still have tons of mosaic materials – I’ll get back to that at some point – and piles of books to be read. Procrastination isn’t the driving factor; it’s more that I’m highly distractible, interested in too many things and have too few hours in the day and years left in the life to do everything I want to do. That’s just me, and at this age, I don’t expect (or want) to change.

And I’ve studied personalities enough to know I’m hardwired that way.

BookOn the Myers-Briggs scale, I’m an ENFP, specifically an Idealist Champion. We’re rare types (which is why we seem crazy to some people, I’m sure) and, according to Please Understand Me II (of which I’m on my third, if not fourth copy, since they keep disappearing), we “can appear to be intellectual and emotional butterflies, flitting from idea to idea ….”

The author also compare us to puppies, “sniffing around to see what’s new then barking to let everyone know what they’ve found.”

(Did I mention you really should read that book? Huh, huh, did I, did I? You should, you should. Arf! Arf!)

But I do hope to get back to all the topics I had started and had to drop when life turned upside down for a while.

You may have to help me remember what all they were, though.

Hey, quick, look at that!!

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