Jesus Wants Me For a Skinny Girl

MILO, The Final Chapter

It’s back on the bike for this broad! Saddle up!

May 6th email to insurer:

Subject: Please Cancel My Auto Policy

Hi, it’s Christie. I spoke with Valerie, who asked me to record what happened to my car.

On April 29th, it started acting sluggish on the freeway. I took it to my mechanic to learn that it’s burning oil. They put in 3 quarts and it was fine for a week. It started getting sluggish again May 5th, so a neighbor sent me to AutoZone for a diagnostic. He would look at it in the morning, today. Last night my friend followed me, just in case, and thank goodness! The undercarriage began to glow bright orange, and when I got to a convenience store (VERY CONVENIENT) we learned that it was actually in flames under the hood! We put out the fire and left it overnight.

Who does that happen to?!!! I’m glad I’m not dead, hell of an adventure. I really do have the best stories.

Today, I sold it. Done.

Happy Travels!

Tear-a-Part Auto Recycling
652 S Redwood Rd.
Salt Lake City, UT 84104

***

So the most exciting thing is that I listened to my angels, period. My gut kept telling me to ask my friend for help. She just moved in, barely breathing again with her feet on the ground, bless her. She’s a harried, hurried, newly-single, stressed-out, maxed-out mother of a lively 2-year-old boy.

I kept pushing it down. “I can’t bother her. I’ll be fine.” The neighbor guy reassured me Milo would be fine to get to AutoZone and back. I was nervous. He offered to come with me, but I don’t want to be alone in the car with an albeit helpful, kindly man I don’t know well. “Oh, I can’t bother her. He’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

They were screaming at me! *gut gut gut, pow pow pow* Listen!

My friend hates the “pop-in.” She’s reeling from a rancorous divorce, still in the process of wrapping her brain around such a jolting, scary new reality. She’s rattled. It was very hard for me to ask her to load her son into the car past 9 o’clock! My angels insisted, and somehow gave me the courage. They put my guilt away: It would be okay.

It was. She was happy to help.

I’m so glad my old, old friend is my new, new neighbor! MIRACLES!

These are my posts yesterday and today on ye ol’ Facebook, where I live my life:

5.5.13 “don’t ever dismiss your intuition. that siren in your belly is telling you the truth. listen, and you’re in for a thrilling adventure with a safe, happy conclusion. (sigh!) ignore, and you’ll figure it out eventually… the hard way. thankful for blessings tonight!!! thank you, [tagged friend], for sharing a miracle with me. WOW!”

5.6.13 “quick update: car burst into flames on the freeway last night. sold it for scrap. full refund on newly-paid 6-month insurance premium, so… there’s that, haha! just enjoying the comedy and the carma of it all. i’m tellin’ ya, don’t ignore intuition! thank god i asked my neighbor to help me. thank god she’s one of my oldest friends in salt lake. i wouldn’t have bothered her otherwise. what if i hadn’t asked her to follow me, “just in case”? thanks again, [tagged friend]! holy crap!!!”

***

They weren’t red-flagging the guy – though of course it’s good policy never to ride with someone you don’t know well. They were red-flagging the experience… yet to come.

And then… (!!!) Next, I remembered teasing my car earlier in the day. I even rough-drafted a blog about it that I was going to finish when this most recent issue was resolved. I could never have imagined this outcome!

I’ll post that now, as is, so it appears in order of date of composition: YESTERDAY! BEFORE BEFORE BEFORE!

You knew. Just chill out and take our word for it. We got you. You can feel us us. We are your angels. We are The Auto Club [named in 1993 when I “met” them on a road trip in my first car, The Perky Teal]. We are Source, Universe, God, Whomever, Creator, Heavenly Father, Mother God. We are your ancestors, your family to come. You hear us. It’s real. Relax.

OK!

(thank you thank you thank you!!!)
(i can hardly catch my breath! thank you!)

Right now I feel like my angels are saying, Hello, Dear One. Good job listening.

“Thanks! I feel really good about that.”

Advertisements

You’ll Know I’m Dead When The Noise Stops

Then again, if there were ever a spirit that could make itself heard, it would be me. So I’m not promising anything quiet… (in forty years when I die…)
quotebydalailama

“Listen or your tongue will make you deaf.” -Tribe unknown

I’ll be learning that lesson for as long as I live, and I’ll never quite master it. But I’ll get better! It’s fun, like a game.

Reframing

I came into this life keenly aware of what I didn’t get in the roulette and randomness of birth. I don’t necessarily remember feeling like I was owed bounty and ease, but I certainly recognized that I didn’t have it. What that created in me was a curiosity about those who did. That interest grew into entitlement. Resentment. I don’t know that I was jealous, quite, but it was inequitable to have been born a Have Not, and I knew it.

Today over lunch, I mentioned to a friend how I was always aware, even very young, that I had been robbed. I made it a joke over the years. “I must have been royalty in another life,” I’d say. “I was born to have a staff.”

Somewhere, that “lack” switched.

“Lucky me!” I said today. “For the last few years I’ve noticed how odd it is that I have so little, yet I always have enough. I have what I need, when I need it. Isn’t that lucky?”

“Well, you did that,” she insisted.

“How do you mean?”

“You’re always talking about how best to view things, the gift in this, the lesson in that.”

“I guess I do,” I remembered. “No wonder you call me PollyAnna.”

“No,” she corrected me. “I call you F***ing PollyAnna. I wouldn’t want to piss you off.”

“That’s wise” I agreed. “I do have edge.”

Then, neither of our cards worked to pay the bill. No, really.

I love good friends. I’M RICH.

Cheffrey

I’d gone a year without knowing where he died. A couple of weeks afterwards, I did go into the convenience store I suspected and asked if a man OD’d in their restroom, but I felt so gross as the words came out that I ran away. “Nevermind! I’m sorry!”

(“I don’t need to know where it happened,” I chided myself. “It certainly doesn’t matter to him. And why would I wish to put that picture in someone else’s head?” I felt disgusting and morbid for wanting to know.)

Around the anniversary mark Christine told me where he died, a few blocks east of the store I imagined. “I sit at the bus stop across the street every morning!” I exclaimed, delighted for reasons I don’t understand. “They’re tearing it down!”

“Oh, no,” she lamented.

“Are you kidding? Good riddance. He LIVED!”

The next day, I arrived early and wrote his name on the not-yet-demolished building, plus hearts and smiley faces. “Hi, honey!” I said to him every morning thereafter. “We always did share a twisted sense of humor. Why not greet each other here?”

Today, I lunched with friends kitty-corner from that place. When I drove by, I dismissed my intuition. “You’re just thinking of him because of the corner, Christie, not because he’s with you every time he crosses your mind.” But then I passed a license plate that read, “Chef On,” and if you’ve read other posts about Jeffrey, you know my culinary friend talks to us through license plates, too.

“Oh, alright then,” I teased us both. “Hi, honey!”

… uh… Ahem…

So Milo… About that… It was… *cough*sputter*… uh, “B” for Battery (also Baffoon).

“I paid 65 bucks for a tow? … For a battery?!”

“Yep.”

You might think I’m less angry with Phil less because I’m off the hook and my little Milo is not a lemon. (Rather, his owner is.) But Phil cost me a tow. For a battery! 🙂

B is for Beautiful, Be-hittin’-the-road-this-summer, Beat-that, Bwahahahahahahaha!

Thanks, Big-O!

I’m, Like, The Bravest!

And he’s, like, the hottest!!!

So temping at the dealership, this Adonis comes in all the time to detail our used cars. The first time I saw him I had to catch my breath. (I’m telling you, like, the hottest!) He asked where the old receptionist was. “I know nothing,” I shrugged. “I’m the temp.”

“That sounds like a movie,” he said. “‘The Temp.’ Actually,” he went on, “You look like you could be in a movie.”

Hm.

Luckily, knowing nothing, my blushing and stuttering could be explained as first-day-on-the-job incompetence and I pulled off Lovestruck pretty gracefully. I asked Darlene to help me, and he and I have been flirting ever since.

I decided I was done with waiting, so today as I wrote stock numbers and peg numbers, I grabbed a Post It and wrote my number. “So… there’s a movie I’d like you to see,” I smiled. “It’s called ‘The Temp.'”

He laughed, and then we talked and talked until I got busy and he had to get back to work. On his way out, he asked something but my phone rang again. I waved him off, saying, “We’ll talk, we’ll talk. Let’s go out.”

Weeeeeee!