I got my car back. To my untrained eye, that fifteen-year-old Beetle convertible looks like new. To the wonderful guy who worked on it, it has a way to go. He says most of the work is done but we’ll keep fixing this, that, and the other until we get it where we (read he) wants it. This is a young man who has his own shop, builds and restores cars, only takes on jobs like mine if somebody he knows recommends it. Fortunately, a neighbor who’s a real car buff recommended me.
Kyle found three squirrel nests—in the fenders and evidence they tried to get into the hood—and something you don’t want to know about in the back seat. The black spots on the finish, he tells me, were fungus working its way into the paint—he’s gotten rid of the fungus and put on a clear protective coating that lasts five years. He’s educated me—what they use on the interior in most car washes deteriorates the leatherette or plastic, so I will not run it through an automatic wash—I’d stopped that anyway because I figured those brushes weren’t good for the top.
My car has wheel locks—who knew? And of course, I haven’t a clue where the key is. With a VW you have to get everything from the dealership, so I will buy new non-locking lugs from them. But Kyle will find a bar to remove the old locks without my leaving a hundred-dollar deposit at the dealership.
This car detail wasn’t cheap—but it, like the repairs I had done a year ago, beats buying a new car. I’ve thought about this and decided that for people like my kids, who trade cars every five years or so, such detailed care isn’t necessary. But it is if I want to baby an elderly car along until, someday, it will be a collector’s item. VW is apparently not going to make any more of the Beetle convertibles.
Our electric gate across the driveway is fixed, and I now know where the reset button is if it gets stuck (I’ve only had it fifteen years or so). I feel much more secure at night with that gate closed, and I’m grateful to Lewis Bundock, who has kept my house in good shape for twenty-five years. He fixed the gate in five seconds first thing this morning.
I picked up new pills for Sophie from the vet. She still sounds like she has a stuffy nose, but I don’t hear the wet breathing I did. The pill loosened up things apparently, with some side effects that created cleaning chores for me.
I retrieved my debit card from the restaurant without incident.
My hearing aid is fixed, sort of, and I have had a lesson in cleaning. I had that lesson before, but the aids were new, and I guess it was all too much to take in. Now I’ll be better about it. We’re experimenting with batteries and chargers to try to determine why one aid kept losing its charge. I’ve had hearing aids for years, but the big thing about these is that the phone talks directly to them, so I can stop saying, “Pardon me?” Too often I lapsed into “Huh?”
I succeeded in renting a huge house in the Hill Country for my family of sixteen for next Christmas. We’ll all be under one roof with things like a pool table and foosball to keep kids from getting bored. And maybe, just maybe, the adults can take side trips to some wineries.
I promise (I think) no more health reports but this last one. Yesterday I got the report on blood work done the week before, and my anemia has improved greatly which almost certainly erases the threat of the underlying disease the hematologist was scaring me with and the possibility of an unpleasant procedure. Since I feel better than I have in years, I did not take kindly to her comment that if I had what she suspected I wouldn’t know it. I think she needs to work on her bedside manner. I hereby declare myself healthy.
Tonight, German hot potato salad—Christian’s favorite—with a new brand of sausage (called kiolbasa). Christian waxed eloquent about the fact that I’ve been fixing this dinner for him for almost twenty years. It’s a recipe I fiddled with to “improve” it. I had sauerkraut with my potato salad—I’d seasoned it with caramelized onions, brown sugar, and white wine. So good, but neither Jordan nor Christian would try it, although he admitted it smelled good. I tried to point out that he tried sugar snap peas for the first time recently and liked them and maybe the same would be true. No sale.
Happy weekend everyone!