 Hi.
I'm not sure what number Tuesday Tapas we're on, and I'm frankly too lazy to look. Also, I'm pretty proud of myself for knowing that this is Tuesday ... but if you know me in person, you should probably ask me. I'll likely say it's Thursday or Sunday or something ... because #summer. I have some thiiiiiiings to tell you. 1) A piece of my car flew off the other day on some random interstate, which resulted in my blood pressure skyrocketing. My summer/vaca zen was nearly ruined by the FLAP FLAP FLAP of the new vibration caused by the loss of a plastic shield that's now in a billion pieces on the ground somewhere. So today, I took The Car Without The Plastic Shield Thing back to The Dealership That Done F'ed Up, and I test drove ALL THE CARS, you guys. [I should preface this by saying that I was mildly interested in throwing my Explorer off of a cliff when I pulled up to the dealership, so test driving cars wasn't a bad option.] By the end of my car driving experience, I had a Highlander, an Equinox, a Terrain, 2 Tahoes, an Acadia, and a Buick Enclave parked at the front of the dealership. It was only 1,0000000000 billion degrees today, and my poor salesman was about 300 pounds and 7'13". I made that man werk, werk, werk. At the about the mid-point of my test driving experience - after I took a car over to Mandy's house to say HAAAAY GIRL HAAAAAAY - I walked past an Equinox and said, "Yes. That one, too. I'll drive that one." And he had to walk to the other dealership building (the one without air conditioning this week because #broken) to get the keys. And he loved me by that point, I'm fairly certain. He pulled the Equinox up, got out, and stood with me while it cooled off inside. He talked to me about the interior and the exterior "sport lines" and I don't know what any of that means because why, why, why. Upon getting in, I whacked my head on the sunglasses holder. The salesman was buckling his seatbelt and talking about cylinders, and I was all, "I just hit my head getting in here, sooooo ... This ain't the one, boss," and then he had to get right back out. His sigh was audible. The poor guy had a heart attack last year. He kept saying, "What kind of time do you have today, Becky?" And I was all, "ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD, KID ... BECAUSE #SUMMER AND YOUR DEALERSHIP GIVES OUT FREE DIET MOUNTAIN DEW AND GRANOLA BARS, SO I COULD GO FOR DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYS." I have a couple of things to note here:
2) I just got back from a week in Colorado with The Boyfriend and Jo-Jo (The Boyfriend's Momma). [Do I have to keep calling her Jo-Jo "The Boyfriend's Momma"? Or can I just call her Jo-Jo from now on and we all know who I'm talking about?] It was amazing ... but terrifying because all of the tall things, you guys. And I don't hate heights. There were some moments, though. Some mooooooments where I felt so small and everything else was just so ... big. And high. That's not what I want to talk about, though. One of my favorite stops on our way to Colorado was in Sidney, Nebraska - birthplace of The Boyfriend. We stopped to see his babysitter and her husband and his aunts and some cousins and where he used to live ... but one of my most favorite things - ever, probably - was the night we sat around the table. (I think my life's book of stories all come from nights that were centered around a table.) This group of people in their seventies (and some in their eighties) had known each other since before fourth grade. Not one name mentioned was unfamiliar, and the stories piled one on top of each other. The teenagers at the end of the table actually ignored their phones, the old men had their hair parted on the side and gelled in comb-overs from 1947, and I was laughing so hard by the end of the night that I had tears and snot and sore abs. I've said it about a billion times, but there is something about being around people that have known you - that have seen you change and let you change and have loved you through your hurts. Something grounding, something true and real and honest about being near people that know ALL of you. Not just your highlights. Not just your twenties. Not just your forties. ALL of you. There's something about sitting around a table with people that know you, your daddy, your momma, your Truth ... It was so interesting to sit next to The Boyfriend and watch his face change. His smile broadened. His teeth showed with his laugh. There was something that happened as we sat around that special table that was built to hold up to 22 people. He became rooted to his chair. The night waned, the fireworks finished, families left. The food was put away. The stories slowed. His feet shuffled. I counted angels and Christmas villages on his babysitter's walls and shelves. He rubbed his hand across my back, as he laughed at another slow story. He didn't want to leave. And when we finally did leave - when we finally checked out of our hotel, loaded up the Explorer with the Not-Yet Broken Shield Thing - he looked at me and said, "It's hard leaving these people sometimes. You don't know if it's going to be the last time." You can't fault a man, then, for wanting to drag the night out a little longer. To stay and listen to just one more story. To shake hands just one more time. To take just one more look over your shoulder, to wave one more goodbye, to give one more hug, and to accept just a little more ribbing. You can't fault a man for the way he gives little pieces of his heart out along his road. Can't fault him for that at all. It was just so, so good, you guys. More on that coming. I promise. 3) These are my favorite things so far this summer that I don't get paid at all for telling you about so you can click the below links without fear of me making money or someone tracking your clicks or whatever else people get weirded out about these days. #facebookhacking
4) My mother. Myyyyyy mother. I have called her twice in the last seven days and each time I've talked to her, we've just laughed so hard. She tells me today that she surprised her assistant with Univision. Like they're going on TV. TOMORROW. And she didn't tell her assistant until tonight. So she's panicked about her roots and her nails, and I told mom, "Just have her use mascara!" And mom choked on her laugh. "Yea, okay," she said. "I'll tell her in the car tomorrow that Becky said to not worry about your roots - just put on some mascara." And I was like, "Mom. No. Tell her to use mascara on her ROOTS." And I thought that was a quality solution. Why doesn't that get marketed more? Unless you're a fake blonde like me. Then there isn't anything that can help. Probably why she didn't ask ME to go on Univision. And THAT is all I've got. Such a RANDOM Tuesday Tapas post - this I know. But this is the whole entire reason I started it to begin with. Sometimes I've just got THINGS to tell you - like all about a freaking sweaty trip to a car dealership THAT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO GO BACK TO because they didn't have the right shield part thing. I'll be back later this week with a little snippet of Colorado. Something pretty humbling about that great place. Until then - xoxo, B. PS - I should mention that my car salesman man was honestly so sweet and nice. And patient. Lord have mercy. He didn't roll his eyes at me one time. PPS - I actually wrote this on Monday night at 11 pm on my couch (like I'm on my game or something), which is why it seems weird that the times are off - tonight, today, etc. By the time I was finished, I just didn't have the energy to change it all because you guessed it! #summer 💗 |
