Bweek

Been a week of Bs here, starting with “Bumper.” As in, I bumped the bumper. Badly.

Woke up Wednesday morning and found Lola huddled downstairs, not saying much. (Generally she wakes me with a caterwaul, demands a cuddle and playtime, then leaps to the clerestory windows to watch birds fly over the sunrise).

She felt warmer than usual and her fur looked a bit greasy, so I called Dr. Brian. “Bring her in,” he said, and diagnosed a minor bug with some dehydration. “We’ll pop in a little fluid and she’ll be right as rain,” he said cheerily.

Then he inserted the rectal thermometer and all hell broke loose. Lola leapt to an upper cabinet, glaring at Dr. Brian and trying to eat his stethoscope. We decided that a cat who ate stethoscopes couldn’t be all THAT sick, and I left the vet’s feeling considerably better.

Right up until, on way out of the parking lot, I made a new friend. I plowed Cherrybaby into the back bumper of Xandra’s VW.

Xandra and her daughter were very kind and understanding (only in Glassland do your victims invite you to dinner), and we might even become buddies. It was the first accident I’ve ever been in that was my fault. Bummer.

But the estimate to fix CherryBaby should have come with a BWAH-HAH-HAH! Cherrybaby’s right front bumper only looks scratched and a little popped out, but turns out I detached both headlights, moved something that Nick-the-bodyguy says is like Cherrybaby’s front ribcage about two inches to the right, cracked the bumper and “probably displaced a bunch of things.”

$1,587.36 to fix it. Or rather, that’s the starting price. “I can almost guarantee that when we open ‘er up we’ll find more,” he assured me. They’ll start Wednesday, “and depending on what we find could be anywhere from three to 10 days.”

Beautiful. But no one was hurt, I have a good auto insurance company, I found a new friend. Could be a lot worse, right?

The Beaverton Farmer’s Market was just down the street from the autoshop this morning, so I stopped off for bread, baby potatoes, beans, butter, berries and bratwurst. Also found some excellent artichokes–which will be dinner tonight, along with a really tasty saucisson and beans. I’ve lunched on fresh, handmade pate and new chèvre, topped off with just-picked baby tomatoes, radishes and raspberries.

The word for work is “busy” and maybe “best.” I’m doing 12-hour workdays pretty much routinely as we get through a really fabulous new project. It’ll make a huge difference for our clients (and our customers), and pulling all the pieces together is kinda like working a useful crossword puzzle. I’ve got a great team to work with and appreciative clients (they bake cookies for us and give us handmade soaps as incentives). But busy is an understatement; I’m seeking time to breathe in spots.

So. I promise to be slightly more regular with posts (only slightly–like the cobbler’s children this website badly needs an overhaul and migration and my scant spare time is going to that instead of actually writing).

Right now there’s a massive rain-and-hailstorm outside making music, bolognese bubbling on the stove for tomorrow, and I’m going down to the studio to make baubles. Turns out it’s not a bad bweek after all.

Best.

 

Share on Facebook

Related posts:

1. Autoanthropomorphic "You're 5,000 miles overdue," he said reproachfully, "CherryBaby needed her tires rotated...