Windshield Demon

My car is possessed - possessed I tell you!

A few weeks ago, on a dark winter’s morn, I drove to work on Highway 50, behind a humongous truck. Shortly before I exited the freeway I heard a loud CRACK. A pebble, bullet, an armed WMD hit my windshield. When I parked I stared in horrified fascination at a round, pierced hole, located on the driver’s side, only an inch or two above the wipers.

$#@%& trucks!

Always hated trucks; Tyrannosaurus-sized behemoths, driven by rude bastards that ignoring the fact that I own the freeways, believe that they own the freeways. Arrogant bastards! Ought not be allowed on freeways. I don’t care that they carry the merchandise and thus are essential for me to live my life in a manner that I am accustomed to; that being a princess in exile.

Skip to tonight. I picked up my car and headed home. I noticed something weird – someone had drawn a foot-long, white chalk line across the bottom of my windshield. The chalk line was actually an enlongated crack, which on this frigid winter evening was traveling from its source; the bullet hole in my windshield. Gasp!

I was sick with annoyance. I hadn’t done anything to deserve that damned windshield hole in the first place, but here it was ruining my car's perfection. Why are trucks allowed to cruise freeways spewing boulders that crack the windshields of sweet innocents such as myself?

$#@%& trucks!

I was fuming as I drove along. Then, I chanced to look down again and GASP! The crack had grown, another 8 or 9 inches! A frost demon had possessed my car and before my very eyes was having a go at cracking my poor windshield!

I was so upset, I left the car for an errand, and when I returned 45 minutes later, the crack had transverse another foot, ending in a downward curve under the windshield wiper on the passenger side.

$#%& trucks!

My beautiful, Mohave Mist copper brown Honda CRV now looks like a decrepit old SUV. Will get windshield replaced in January, after which I will never, ever allow a $#@%& truck within a half mile of my wee ikle Honda.

Second Saturday

The State Indian Museum held a Second Saturday event - Hurrah!

It rained buckets - Boogers!

Had fun anyway. Those of us hosting the gig; Ranger Henry, docent Karen and two artists who had art for sale, outnumbered the visitors. One of the artists, Larry, brought a beautiful & humongous hand made drum with him. I wish I had a photo of it - it was almost four feet in diameter, octogonal in shape and was stretched with cowhide on one side and elk skin on the other. We stood at the K street door of the museum and Larry sung some songs in what may have been Miwok or Wintun. I was too excited to think to ask him the significance of the songs. He let us have a go at beating the drum - way cool.

I was so excited about getting to beat the drum - to call passersby - I called up the Codina's, got Rick, me thinking perhaps Diego might enjoy coming down with his flute, get a little ensemble going. What was I thinking? It being a Saturday night - even if it was raining - he was off on adventures.

But us old folk sat around after the drumming and enjoyed a nice chat. Big surprise, Mommy Nancy showed up! I was thrilled to see her. I had that same sort of feeling I used to get when I was a kid and my Mother showed up for the bake sale.

Honestly, for a rainy night, I sure enjoyed myself.

Center Stage

It’s the last day of my 3 day weekend and as usual, I got very little done of what I wanted to do. I got some things started though, like pulling some things, like my shoes out of the ‘junk room’ and into my bedroom closet. I don’t know precisely how they got there, but I found several color slides – archaic artifacts of the past. The slides were of an afternoon spent in Monterey with Mommy Nancy, I, and our babies. Did I mention my baby had a tail?

Nancy had a real baby – Diego, who was 16 months old and quite a busy little guy. My so-called baby was Chiquilla, my whippet pup of four or five months old.

I remember that day well, and I know Nancy does too. We drove down to and stayed at a motel which involved smuggling Chiquilla and her little kennel into a motel that, like most motels, did not allow dogs. Ah! Those were the days. Later, Nancy, baby Diego, Chiquilla and I took a long stroll through a lush regional park. I nabbed a gopher snake and took photos of it – which were among the slides I just found.One lingering memory of that lovely spring day was how the baby that got all the attention was Chiquilla, the puppy. Nancy said she very nearly felt hurt that people who saw us made a bigger fuss over my floppy pup than happy little Diego, which brings me back to the present.

Diego is no longer the happy baby – in early November he became 18 - cast his first vote in the National election. Friday night I went with Mommy Nancy, Rick & Diego's 14 year old brother Adan, to Diego's high school to see his performance in a comedy, Moon over Buffalo. I was totally impressed by Diego’s performance as a man confronting his fiancé’s highly bombastic theatrical family. It was amazing to see Diego mold himself into a character, on stage, in front of an audience. He may not have gotten the attention way back in the day with a puppy for competition, but he sure had center stage on Friday. Even Chiquilla would have spotted Diego as a young master worthy of our admiration.