|Posted by Cathy Douglas on December 3, 2010 at 7:25 PM|
We've had a string of good days. Yesterday, the car even started--yay! So Kid B was left in charge of the house, while Kid A and I went off to look for one of those little hotplates you put your coffee mug on, and a pair of warm, fuzzy slippers. Two things Dan needed; no sense in waiting for Christmas.
It was a little scary, because the day before Kid B and I had been about to go, but the car acted up. He started it, but remembered that he'd left his glasses in the house. When he got back out, the car refused to move, and when he tried turning it off and on again it wouldn't do a thing. Since it was about ten degrees that day, it was no great surprise. We gave up. What Kid A and I were most worried about, trying again the next day, was that the car would take us out past the mall and then refuse to start up and leave us stuck out in Mall-land. The kids are both new drivers, while I don't drive at all; none of us knows from zilch about cars.
But the thing had been sitting in the sun all day, and it started right up. Kid A may have just learned, but you'd never know it. He drives like he was born with a steering wheel in his hand. First thing he did was crank the radio. Him and me, we always talk music.
"What are we listening to?" I asked, as we peeled out of the driveway to some dude with a nasal voice going crazy with one of those voice-pitch machines.
"Hip hop. D'ya like it?"
Neither of us normally listens to hip hop. "Hip hop? It sounds like some white guy playing with an Auto-tune machine."
"Hey, I like Auto-tune effects. But yeah, that's what they do on this station--bunch of posers trying to sound fly by putting misogynistic lyrics on top of fake techno. Ain't it great?"
We spent the rest of the ride cracking up to this stuff. The lyrics went something like:
I want my wee-wee
oh my honey
take it on my--
take me for a--
Oooo, la la dookie motor
hook me with your
wee-wee, doggy killa
oh my honey
We were both in stitches. "What the hell are they talking about?"
"I dunno, I just like the techno stuff in the background."
We went to Target, where there are 30,000 pairs of warm, furry slippers, all in women's sizes. There are kitchen appliances that will press the likeness of Hello Kitty onto your toast, but no coffee warmers. We bought an insulated mug and went to Burlington Coat Factory for the slippers. Same deal with the slippers there. I guess men, being tough, like to have cold feet? But we found a women's extra large in these atrocious fake-fur booties that we thought would do the trick. In spite of the dismal holiday season, it was a blast--walking fast, talking fast, making fun of all the dorky-looking clothes, and generally just getting out in the world and looking around a bit.
Ye gods but it was good to get out.