I’ve had the new Toyota a whole week now. I drove it at night for the first time very early Wednesday morning when I went to the grocery store to get stuff for Thanksgiving Dinner.
My BFF has lost both her parents, and her only sibling lives in Houston, Tx. She’s working five days a week now (she can’t live on what she gets from Social Security either), and only gets the one day off. Mom had planned for the two of us to eat Thanksgiving dinner at a local restaurant; however, I said I’d cook so I could have my BFF over. It was just the three of us. Praters’ cooked most of the food — the dressing, mashed potatoes, green beans, and gravy — I just heated it up. Oscar Meyer furnished the turkey. Mom brought a Jello salad. I uncorked a bottle of white wine. We pigged out and leftovers were had by all. (Note: My BFF has anxiety attacks at the thought of having her picture out on the internet where strangers can see it. The alternative was to crop her out of the picture . . . )
I think the new Toyota maybe is going to be the Grey Ghost, although technically it’s silver; it does have a very quiet ride. However, it could just as easily end up being the Newbie or something altogether different that I haven’t even thought of yet. I’ve just finished reading Across the Great Barrier, the second installment of Patricia Wrede’s Frontier Magic saga, and in it and in Thirteenth Child, the first book of the series, mention is made of mirror bugs, which is a thought I just had.
Now that I think about it, the old Toyota didn’t become the “Crayola” until after I’d had it for thirteen or fourteen years. I find myself wondering what has happened to it, and feeling guilty for “abandoning” it. It’s absurd, but there you are.
The dealership emailed me Wednesday afternoon that the car tags were there so I swung by and had them put on. I am now street legal. On the way home, I stopped off at the Market Street at 19th Street and Quaker Avenue, the back parking lot of which is where the old apartment house I lived in for 21 years used to be before it was demolished to make way for the Marsha Sharp Freeway. There was such a crush of people in the store that I forgot where I parked. As I was coming out with the sacker who was carrying my two bags of groceries, I told him to give me the sacks as I was going to have to hunt for my car. I told him I had just gotten a new car and I hadn’t had it a week yet. I had the one I traded in for it trained, but I hadn’t had time to train the new one yet.
My mom has changed her mind about when we are going to Houston. I still have to figure out what to do about the kitties. I priced the Petsmart Pets Hotel — $20 per cat per night, works out to $300 for the five nights I’d have to board them. I’m going to call my friend JT and see if he can come by and look after the kitties. I will offer to pay him if he can do it. I’m actually looking forward to the trip, although the thought of driving in Pearland and thereabouts daunts me — and would have daunted me even if I was still driving the Crayola instead of a brand new car I’m not used to yet. I have a blog friend who lives thereabouts. I might see if we can meet up . . . .