Today is August 19, 2019
Join Now! | Home | Sign in | FAQ | Help
My One True Life by wayward heart
December 2002
1Winding Down // Ms. Fix-it
2Winter Wonderland
3Tuesday Tidbits and Soupsicles
4Care Bears and Christmas Preparations
5Holiday Favorites Survey
6i treasure every gifty // Sending Christmas Cards
7Sunshiny Saturday // Oh Doe...Dot a code id by doze....
8Restless Night
9(S)ick with the annual "itis"
10Forget "Chicken Soup"....
11Don't bother me, i'm taking a sick day
12A Thank You Note (and a reply)
13Friday Night Fluff
14Dreams are not enough
15 Drizzly, Dark, and Dreary
16The Baking Elf Arrives
17Quote Du Jour // Quiet Day, Quiet Night, Quiet Feeling
18Peaceful Solitude // Christmas Gift Dilemma
19Quote Du Jour // Merrily i roll along......
20Screw the Balls...and other Christmas Traditions // New Journalist
22Baccala and Christmas Themes // Just a big kid
23Quote Du Jour // What do you do with a Drunken Aussie?
24Last night's email correspondence // Quote Du Jour Holiday Wishes // One More Sleep Till Christmas
25A Very White Christmas
26Old Friends and other stuff
27Nothing much
28A Garbo Night
29Best of Both Worlds // The MochaMobile
30Christmas Came Again
31New Year's Eve Traditions New and Old

August 2019
July 2019
June 2019
May 2019
April 2019
March 2019
February 2019
January 2019
December 2018
November 2018
October 2018
September 2018
August 2018
July 2018
June 2018
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018
January 2018
December 2017
November 2017
October 2017
September 2017
August 2017
July 2017
June 2017
May 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
November 2016
October 2016
September 2016
August 2016
July 2016
June 2016
May 2016
April 2016
March 2016
February 2016
January 2016
December 2015
November 2015
October 2015
September 2015
August 2015
July 2015
June 2015
May 2015
April 2015
March 2015
February 2015
January 2015
December 2014
November 2014
October 2014
September 2014
August 2014
July 2014
June 2014
May 2014
April 2014
March 2014
February 2014
January 2014
December 2013
November 2013
October 2013
September 2013
August 2013
July 2013
June 2013
May 2013
April 2013
March 2013
February 2013
January 2013
December 2012
November 2012
October 2012
September 2012
August 2012
July 2012
June 2012
May 2012
April 2012
March 2012
February 2012
January 2012
December 2011
November 2011
October 2011
September 2011
August 2011
July 2011
June 2011
May 2011
April 2011
March 2011
February 2011
January 2011
December 2010
November 2010
October 2010
September 2010
August 2010
July 2010
June 2010
May 2010
April 2010
March 2010
February 2010
January 2010
November 2009
October 2009
September 2009
August 2009
July 2009
June 2009
May 2009
April 2009
March 2009
February 2009
January 2009
December 2008
November 2008
October 2008
September 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007
August 2007
July 2007
June 2007
May 2007
April 2007
March 2007
February 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
February 2005
January 2005
December 2004
November 2004
October 2004
September 2004
August 2004
July 2004
June 2004
May 2004
April 2004
March 2004
February 2004
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
October 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
May 2003
April 2003
March 2003
February 2003
January 2003
December 2002
November 2002
October 2002
September 2002
August 2002
July 2002
June 2002
May 2002
April 2002
March 2002
February 2002

Best of Both Worlds // The MochaMobile
December 29, 2002

i had the best of both worlds last night. i spent several hours reading the novel my mom had sent me, with the classical station on for background. H had repaired to the bedroom, so it was nice and quiet.

Around midnight, my eyes were tired of reading, so i decided to check back online, if only to say goodnight to L.

He messaged me almost instantly when i got on ICQ. "Where have you been?"
i told him i was reading.
"Good book?", he asked.
"That's good. Want to Picophone?"
"For a few minutes", i replied. "i'm going to bed soon."

L was in a good mood. He'd been installing a TV tuner in one of the computers, and wanted to tell me all about it. Maybe he'd missed me, or was just excited about what he'd accomplished, but i got the feeling he was happy to spend time with me. (and he didn't once curse out his computers!) i was glad to be with him, too, even if all we discussed were computers.

i ended up going to bed around 2am, later than i'd planned. But i was enjoying his company, and when i did go to bed, it was with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Smile

The book Mom sent me is quite good. It's by Anita Shreve, who wrote The Pilot's Wife. Mom thought i had read that one, and would like this one, too. i never read the other one, but i saw the movie version, and had rather liked it.

This book, Fortune's Rocks, is set at the turn of the 20th century, and is about a 16 year old girl who has an affair with a 41 year old married man, and the aftermath of that affair. So far, i'm only up to the point where the affair is discovered (in a public and awful way). i'm curious to see how she fares.

Although i'm far closer to her lover's age than to the girl's, i have no difficulty relating to the idea of a clandestine affair (oh, if my mother only knew!!! Surprised Laughing ). The author has it pegged, too, particularly in one scene between the lovers that really jumped out at me. i emailed it to L, and i'm posting it here, because it describes the situation between he and i surprisingly well. But i hope we will have a happier ending than they did. (at least where i left off last night, things are far from happy)

Anyway, here it is:

"All lovers seek the illusion of oneness", he answers. "But you are right. Most of a love affair is in the mind."
"Is it?", she asks.
"Of course, there are the times when we are together", he says. "When we express our love for each other. But do not these episodes but feed the true and ravenous lovers, which are the minds, creatures unto themselves? So that love is not simply the sum of sweet greetings and wrenching partings and kisses and embraces, but is made up more of the memory of what has happened and the imagining of what is to come."
"But if that were true", she says, "then it would not be necessary to be physically together at all. We could just simply imagine it, and be done with it. And not worry about being caught out or about hurting anyone else."
"Yes. Well...,", he says. "The imagination must have fuel. It must have someting to base its memories on. In the beginning, when we would meet, I used to marvel how it was that we never began exactly where we had left off, but seemed to have progressed to yet another level, and then another. The mind is intolerably impatient. It can imagine the whole of a love affair in an instant."
"Have you done that?" she asks quietly. "Have you imagined the whole of us?"
"Yes", he answers, "and you have done so as well"
-- from Fortune's Rocks, by Anita Shreve

The MochaMobile

i drive a 1993 Ford Tempo. It's an old car, i admit. It's only got 46,000 miles on it, and per year, i only put on an additional 2,000. It had a slight mishap back in October, poor H was in a fender bender with it (not his fault, and which he did his best to avoid), resulting in a cracked and offkilter front bumper.

My car is affectionally known as the "MochaMobile", thanks to an unfortunate incident with a Venti Hazelnut Mocha. H had gone to Starbucks for my annual Mother's Day treat. The standing joke was that he made me a cup of (instant! BLECH!) coffee every Mother's Day. Once i stopped buying instant coffee, the tradition threatened to die. Until i pointed out that Starbucks would be a viable (and much appreciated) alternative.

So, Mother's Day two years ago, he took my car to Starbuck's. He decided to buy himself a hot chocolate while there. My car only has a single cup holder, however, so he placed my caffe mocha on the floor of the vehicle. Which might have been ok, except for things like: braking the car, or making turns.

Needless to say, when he handed me the paper cup, it was no longer a Venti....more like "nove" or "dieci" ("nine" and "ten" in Italian, respectively). Most of the contents had taken up residence in the floor mat of the car.

It was after dark, however, and i wasn't prepared to go out and mop out coffee at 8:30pm. So, it stayed. And the next day, i drove to work. It wasn't too bad in the morning, but after sitting out in the parking lot on a sunny day in May....well, you can imagine the stench of spoilt milk by mid-afternoon!

i spent the rest of that afternoon sponging coffee out of the car....hosing down floor mats, and eventually pouring nearly an entire box of baking soda over the floor, hoping to absorb the odor.

The "aroma" has dissipated, and i don't notice it at all any more, but the incident did "baptize" my car as "The MochaMobile"

The MM has its quirks, particularly being over 10 years old. The clock does not keep accurate time. It's some 5 hours and 10-odd minutes off, but i can never seem to remember whether it's add or subtract those hours or minutes. The radio only gets 3 stations, and on one stretch of road, only one of those will come in.

When you turn off the window defroster or a/c, you hear a loud "Pop" a few seconds later.

The front driver's side tire keeps losing air (we're replacing that in 2 weeks, when we take the MM in for its quarterly oil change)

The MochaMobile has never been driven on the highway, prefering local streets (as does its owner). It doesn't like to go any faster than 40, with occasional sprints to 45. At 50, it gets "nervous", and starts trembing. So does its driver, so we're well suited to each other Smile

One other little quirk, is that when rolling down the driver's window, it sometimes doesn't roll all the way back up. It looks and feels like it's all the way, but there's a tiny little space where the top of the window doesn't quite go all the way up, unless you give the handle (yes, manual windows) a little extra crank. Then you can feel it slip into place.

Like most autos in this climate at this time of year, the poor MochaMobile (which is white, with a red interior. Not a bad combination, though i would not have chosen a white car. But when you buy a used one, you get what you get), is suffering from road filth. It is (or was, until today) beginning to look more like a MUCKMobile....

So H offered to take it through the car wash. As we sit (car in neutral, please, and foot off the brake), gliding through the carwash, listening to the radio, H suddenly announces..."Hey, I'm getting wet!!"

Sure enough, he hadn't given the window handle that little extra quarter turn....and through that narrow slit...he was getting a shower!! We had a good laugh over that!

We've owned 4 cars in Omni, a Pontiac, the Saturn (which after 2 years, i still have never driven), and my MochaMobile. The MochaMobile is the first car i've ever owned that i've thought of as "mine" and not primarily H's.

i know my car is old and quirky and not the swiffest or spiffiest...but somehow it and i understand each other. It's the first car i've ever felt truly "comfortable" driving, that seemed to "fit". Sounds silly i know, but i'm quite fond of the MochaMobile for all its idiosyncracies, and for all that i generally hate to drive, and view it as a necessity, but not a pleasure. There are moments, though, when even i, singing along to the car radio, cresting the hills on Westfall, window open, have an almost "Zen like" moment, and can almost....very faintly, in the distance....hear the call of the open road.......

......Or is that just the MochaMobile's radiator????? Surprised
Very Happy

Login to select
your favorite journals


Visit my Forum

© Website Copyright 2002 by
© Journal Content Copyright 2002 by the Author
Terms of Service Agreement
Privacy Policy