Marrying George Clooney

today is the day. today we get to pick up our mazda. it has been away from home for almost 8 weeks now. the first few weeks were fun. after five weeks, it’s no longer fun. after eight weeks it’s tedious and boring. ken tells me that we should be thankful we have two cars. i am thankful. deeply. profoundly. it’s just…ken loves his little tiny miata. i don’t. he likes sitting in the drivers seat, all cramped, making believe he’s an INDY 500 driver. i don’t. i feel cramped and i get cranky and then i yell at ken. i tell him to drive slower and pay more attention. and then he tells me to mind my own business. which would be okay, if we weren’t up each other’s asses because the car is so small. i could mind my own business if the car were bigger. okay that’s not true. i can’t mind my business in ANY SIZE CAR.

fine.

today i get my car back.

it’s been checked, re-done. it’s got a new engine and head gaskets and probably a new windshield because today, this morning, when the service manager drove it for it’s twentieth test drive, a rock came up and cracked the windshield. yep. yep. yep.

so, a windshield/window/glass person is coming to fix it, repair it, remedy it as only that glass person knows how to do.

i can feel my car going through trauma. i can. intuitively. i can.

i want my car home. here with me. so i can take care of it. love it. fill it up. wash it clean. nurture it. dirty it. fill it up with all sorts of crap and empty water bottles and sweaters and boots. and umbrellas.

sometimes, when i close my eyes and squeeze them shut, i can imagine – i can – my car with the hood open, and everything – absolutely fucking everything – all the wires and engine and gaskets and pipes and everything being taken out and put back in and taken out, and replaced…

and i wonder …

when it’s in the garage parked next to the oh so loved by ken miata, will my love be enough?

and i say LOUD AND CLEAR:

YOU BETCHA, CAUSE I AM

A MOMMA MAZZZDA!!!