The New Shape of Awsomeness

Do you know what isn't awsome? Having a broken car. Even if your car is awsome, if it is broken that awsomeness is completely negated.

Having three broken cars, then, is three times as not-awsome. And that lack of awsomeness had come to my house, was sleeping on the sofa, and didn't look like it was trying very hard to get it's own apartment.

THE SENTRA. Now anything that sees 194,000 miles on the clock is pretty awsome. But something with 194,000 miles on the clock that is broken no longer manages to impress. I got the '93 sentra with 72,000 miles back in probably '98 or '99. It's been a good car, but I always said 'When the clutch finally goes, I will stop putting money in it.' Now the throw-out bearing is busted, which causes the clutch cable to snap. Should the throw out bearing be fixed it might see a quarter million miles... care to gamble on it? Start the bidding at $50 in the comments!

THE MALIBU. In an effort to assist us, Mel's parents gave us custody of this ... car. It's only got something like 115,000 on it. But in it's relatively short time I was proud to replace the alternator on it with my own two hands (and Chris Smith's hands as well). After that it began leaking coolant much more seriously than at the rather modest rate it had been. That was a fried lower intake gasket. Fixing that involves removing an engine mount, and had to be done professionally. At least when the electrical system ate itself it had the good graces to do so at home in the garage. Now it doesn't turn itself on, so how many actual miles are on the thing is sort of a guess since the odo is digital.

THE BLAZER. Long ago the Blazer suffered a catastrophic oil leak. Mel's Blazer has the towing package, and that includes an oil cooler. In the times before we knew each other one line (feed or return? I dunno) broke, and all the oil went on the road. Now it was time for the other line to break. This caused Mel to dispair, and after having it fixed we sent it to her parents, who gave us the Malibu in stead. But Mel's parents are good sports, and when we began to suffer more automotive misfortune they returned the Blazer to us. It (and they) showed up just as the Malibu entered it's current state of brokenness. What a lovely time for the exhaust line behind the muffler to fall off! 'No problem,' I thought. The muffler was still in place, and after a bit of wrestling I got the dragging section of pipe removed from the truck. The next day, however, the Blazer began idling roughly, smelling like gas, and wanting to stall.

Now the stage was set. Three broken cars. (The Blazer has since been fixed, professionally.) Mel and I began to dispair. It was at this time that Mel concluded: We have to buy a car.

And now we have a 2003 Nissan Sentra SE-R spec-V, with 44,000 miles. It is so far the newest car I have owned. It is way way the coolest. It's got 175 horsepower and a 6-speed manual transmission. It is 'Sunburst' (yellow). The picture above is not the exact car I own, but it's the same year, trim level, and color. And the totally best part is that my insurance company doesn't differentiate between the seat of awsomness SE-R spec-V and the base trim level. That's right. My car insures at the same rate as the the ubiquitous Sentra XE.

Read about my car here. And here. Find out about the whole Sentra line here.

My new car is totally the coolest thing in the world. I wake up and go to sleep smiling. I love everyone. Rainbows and butterflies follow me everywhere.

I have to figure out what to do with the broken '93 Sentra and the broken Malibu.

Long ago, there was a party.

Long ago, in the time of October, there was a party.


Many other parties would follow it, for Halloween was coming, and that is a time of great festivity.


But this party came first, because it's celebration was more than just Halloween.


First among these things was the Birth-Day of Adam Thorne. As had happened every year, for 31 years previous, the anniversary of his birth, October 25th, brought cheers from good and righteous people everywhere, and snarls and gnashing of teeth from those unfortunate enough to face him over a video game controller. May this thirty second year see his video prowess undiminished!



Second among these was the first anniversary of the birth of Arrow, Adam's faithful companion, and bane of backyard landscaping. One year previously, on October the 20th Arrow entered the world among a litter of 6 pups out of "Tiny". We have the tin-foil evidence that Arrow has found some hershey's kisses since the night of the party, so if any of you hid any around the house know that your face may get chewed off.


Finally among these things is the completion of the Dining Room. The south wall is "Sizzling Haute" - that is to say red. The other walls are "Kansas Grain." The picture rails are installed. The wood work is stripped and washed and stripped and washed and stripped again and washed again and sanded and washed and pre-stained and sanded and washed and stained (maybe twice) and sealed 3 times with a little more sanding and washing in between.


AND LO! On October 21st there was a party, and ever after all those who were not present were known as SQUARES.

The Shape Of Awsomeness

I am here to tell you, people, what the most awsome thing in the universe is. And that is:

THA CAST IRON SKILLET, YO! Now some people might not be down with da SEA-EYE-ESS. They might say "I put my bacon in it and turn it on, and the center cooks but the outside stays raw!"

To these people I say: The Skillzet is from another time, G. You gotta know how it works. It takes time to make a thing go right, and it takes time to heat up the IRON. Turn on your burner. Put the skillet in place. Then go thaw your bacon, or get those cherry turnovers started, or go smooch on your wife since she's prolly still layin around in bed anyway. When you come back, throw that bacon in the C.I.S. and WHAA-CHOW that biz is cooked, yo. Once the skillet is hot there is NO STOPPING IT. Bacon. Eggs. A turkey. Your dog. Jackie Chan. The cast iron will FRY THAT **** UP and you can't even slow it down. Your bacon will be perfectly cooked, end to freakin end.

FURTHERMORE when you are sitting at the table and you gotta lean way back because you are full of the breakfasty goodness and your wife is like "You gonna do the dishes?" You can be like "Aw, shuga, we gotta let the skillet cool off before we can clean it." She won't believe you. But the skillet will be uncomfortably warm to the touch for a good half hour. Even after you dump a couple cups of cold water in it (water that is now hot, greasy, and splashing on you). Add to that the fact that it weighs like 30 pounds and the idea of maneuvering it around in the sink will be right out. This leaves you time to socialize with your breakfast guests, if you have any, or make out with your wife if there are no guests. Either way, perfect morning - courtesy of the CAST IRON SKILLET!

Time to Out the Lurker

My darling husband said to me on Saturday that I should stop posting boring posts about dreams, and start posting interesting posts about his birthday party and his new car.

To which I say (most lovingly): nobody's stopping you, sweetheart.

So if anyone else has ideas about what Adam should blog about, now's your chance to tell him (most lovingly).

Because it's only interesting in my head

Last night I dreamed that my brother and my cousin Warren (the two Annapolis grads in the family) were battling demons, or maybe they were just incompetent kings, at the Cottage in Upper MI.

Then my alarm went off, and when I hit snooze I dreamed that I was at the Student Union of UW-Madison. I was assisting Neil Gaiman as he judged a contest for Best Cake Made in the Shape of a Comic or Graphic Novel Character. This mostly meant that I had to find him a cup of tea, and he got to eat yummy cake.