WITH WIND IN MY HAIR

Heading home from Jo’s on a cold winters night.

In the 60’s, I worked late as a general factotum at the Farman’s Ocean Beach house, and I didn’t have a good top on my car.  It was a long drive from Imperial Beach to OB every day.  This night I had stopped by Jo’s house, and she didn’t laugh me out of the room. 

In 1966, Paul Hawkins had traded in our Chevy station wagon on a new Datsun 1600.  I was always going through clutches, and tops as the car went almost a hundred miles every day.  The only way I survived coming home at night was to bundle up in layers.  Wearing the watch cap, pea coat, brown wool cape, and leather gloves, I folded myself into the front seat warmly.  Yes, I certainly looked funny.  Yes, the heater always worked and my feet were warm.

Today, I miss my worn out sports car a lot.  The truth is that it wasn’t well made though it was well designed.  It wasn’t a family car for a mom with two kids either.  Neither is my current vee-hickle, a 1995 Chevy pickup that George picked.  Perhaps I shouldn’t let my husband’s pick my rides.  For impracticable as they are, I fall in love with them.

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• Himself:  Working til noon, MRI on that knee, and Dinner out for my birthday.
• Myself:  Write here.  Organize piles.  Boss let another part time manager, that we dearly loved, go back to her other job.  She’s done this twice to us now.  I’m cutting my hours down to just Wednesday Books.  That should give me some time to quilt.
• Reading:  BONES OF MY GRANDFATHER: He did a lot of research and gave us a ver amateurish book.
• Gratitude’s:  Cleaning and vacuuming out my closet so that project’s done.