¡Gluglú gluglú!

(That’s what turkeys say in Spanish.)

Time is moving very fast right now. It’s good to have some days to myself… or, as much to myself as they ever are. I say that, but I realize that I have buckets of time to myself compared to many of the people in my life. I spend most days trying to do a million things at once, and wearing the stack of hats that is required of teachers, but at the end of the day I wave back at the kids in the parking lot and then I can drive home to grown ups and felines and a cold walk to the bar if I’m awake enough.

I went home for Thanksgiving. My whole immediate family was together, plus my new brother-in-law and even my grandmother, which was surprising since that side of the family seems like a warzone most of the time. I brought el novio, because after a few months of turmoil we are trying to get it together.

Yesterday I did almost nothing all day. It felt a little disappointing, but then again when do I ever do nothing? I lay around and drank coffee and read and watched the sky go from grey to light to grey again, while elsewhere people were trampling eachother in search of cheap televisions and god knows what else. I need a new computer – no sign of my stolen one – but that is not enough to entice me into the retail madness.

Last week one of the custodians at school came into my room and said (in a tone I probably just used on a student) “Ms. K,  you need to fix your car.” He was referring to its pathetic cosmetic qualities – the bumper just a piece of styrofoam duct-taped on, the cracked windshield, the missing mirror, the cracked windshield, the rubber seal from the windshield that is coming loose to flap desperately against the roof at higher speeds. I told him that I was worried less about my ghetto ride and more about the intake manifold gasket that has been leaking antifreeze for months. Apparently it is going to be a pain to do, also, since getting at the relatively simple problem involves unbolting the entire engine. “What is it?” he asked. “You can’t afford it? Let me help you; I have a friend who will do it.”

Then I felt sheepish because he is an hourly employee with a family, and I am a salaried teacher… granted, I am working (still without a contract) below the bottom of the pay schedule at a Detroit charter school, and paying for grad school, but really there’s no excuse for not fixing my car before now. I can afford it; it’s more the time I can’t afford. I just used the remaining chunk of my financial aid money for the semester to mostly pay off my credit card debt. It’s still debt, but federal student loan debt is less scary.

Anyway, I am driving the car out to his friend’s place next week to have him look at it, and he says that even if it is the whatever-whatever gasket, he can do itfor a couple hundred.

That’s good. I am getting increasingly nervous about the automotive situation. I’m setting aside money each month because poor Lucy the Lumina can’t have that much life in her. She cost a grand two years ago, and now I am driving 80 miles a day, keeping my fingers crossed, leaving a trail of coolant as I go.


Last night some people and I took advantage to tickets won from a local radio station, and went out to Pontiac to see Camera Obscura, an indie band from Glasgow that was worth it just to hear their accents.

Drives at night and shoegazing music and cold air makes me feel halfway between melancholy and affectionate.

Once again, nothing of substance here. Maybe next time.


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