Songs in My Life's Soundtrack

I like marking events and milestones in my life by songs.
The first song I remember hearing was, "Don't Pull Your Love Out" by Hamilton, Joe, Frank and Reynolds. I was a kid listening to my cousin's radio and didn't know anything about songs being on rotation. I just thought I was lucky to hear it every hour or two and I loved the low, deep voice of the group's lead singer.
Neil Diamond's, "I Am, I Said" is the second song I remember. I was feeling pretty sad about being an only child, raised by my grandma and the only girl in a sea of male cousins. The line, "I've got an emptiness deep inside..." really hit home with me. Made me feel less alone.
Songs would come and go, genres would change and so did my tastes. I listened to "Toys In the Attic" by Aerosmith, "Destroyer" by KISS; groups like Bad Company and Grand Funk Railroad.  Music and lyrics explained things to me and even gave me a playlist for relationships or a broken heart.
For example:
REO Speedwagon taught me that if a relationship is getting stale, it might need some "Variety Tonight." For a moment there I thought, "Don't Let Him Go" but the relationship was over and it was "Time for Me to Fly."
Def Leppard proved love and/or a broken heart could come from a simple "Photograph" and if I wanted to wallow in some self-pity about a lost love, Ringo Starr's song by the same name did the trick.
Pink Floyd made me "Comfortably Numb" when life got too overwhelming and Ozzy brought me back with "Flyin' High Again."
I got over the 'love of my life' with songs. Phil Collins came in handy. The relationship began with "Follow You, Follow Me," but soon I could feel the break-up "Coming in the Air Tonight." When I realized my guy was "Throwing It All Away" new songs were needed.
"On My Own" by Patti LaBelle/Michael McDonald said what I couldn't. It was over. When I needed to cry I played, "I've Done Enough Dying Today" by the Gatlin Brothers and "I Call" by M.S. Smith when my little heart thought there was no one but God who could possibly understand. The line, "I call...and you're the one who hears me crying" said it all.
But REM reminded me that "Everybody Hurts," and it would pass then Kenny Loggins told me "This Is It.""Are you gonna wait for a sign? Here's your miracle...stand up and fight" Kenny sang. So I did.
Eventually, Journey declared, "I'll Be Alright" for me, and I was. 
There is a song that could be applied to every bump, bruise and triumph but my favorite example of a song marking a milestone happened the night my son was born. "Circle of Life" from "The Lion King" came on in the birthing suite as the nurse put him in my arms for the first time. It was fitting.
What's on your life's soundtrack?

Just Empty Nesting

"Every time something ends, something else begins...we just don't realize it." That's just the latest old saying meant to make me feel better about my life change. In one night, my son graduated school and went straight into his new life---leaving me behind. Of course he left me behind. I did my job. Mission accomplished. Childhood ends and adulthood begins. Baby birds grow up and leave the nest. That's how it is supposed to be. But what happens to Momma Bird?
I gotta admit, as Momma Bird I'm a bit lost. I loved staying home raising my son. It was my 'calling.' I had been an RN and motherhood seemed to be the next logical step. But after having a child in school for twelve years, I'm no longer putting anybody on a school bus. I'm the parent of a graduate, not a student. Making pancakes for breakfast and packing lunch is no longer in my job description. As matter of fact, there is no longer a job requiring a description. Living arrangements have changed, too. "Our house" is now "Mom's house" and I'm actually required to knock on the front door of my "son's house"! Outrageous!
Children grow up while you're not looking. They mature behind your back. They get opinions and feelings, dreams and ambitions all their own. Roles change. But it happens too damn fast! Grown and gone. 
I'm just in a transitional phase but I need somebody to spoil. I'm used to having big dinners complete with bread, steak, mashed potatoes, greens, corn, beans, deviled eggs, sweet tea and such. There's supposed to be knives, spoons and forks clanking against plates with the ever-present danger that a full glass of something will hit the floor, not this deafening silence and a table set for one.
I'm being silly. I'm reaching out to the universe hoping for a couple of understanding ears. One day soon, this voyage into self-pity will end. I'll resume my nursing career and continue to write for publication, stop talking to the dog and start talking to people again. I'll focus on myself and it won't seem selfish. I'll reach the final stage of grief--acceptance--and laugh about what I've just written. It won't be today but soon.

 

One of My Own "Breaking Bad" Moments

The "Breaking Bad" finale broadcast masterfully ended one of the best shows I have ever seen. For me, all the "appropriate" people got killed; the family is safe and the show essentially began and ended in the lab. Occasionally throughout the series 'favorite bad moments' would be revisited prompting me to recount my life to see if I had any favorite bad moments of my own. So in honor of Walter White, here is one of my personal "Bad Moments."

Years ago, I was getting ready for a date when someone knocked at my door. I went to answer it but instead of asking, "Who is it?" or looking through the peephole I just asked, "Mark?" A barely audible response made me think it was him. So like a fool, I opened the door, saw it wasn't Mark, tried to slam the door on this strange man but he blocked it with his foot and got in. Figuring "this is it, I'm dead," a strange calm came over me. I pointed at him and in a slow, "Exorcist-like" growl said, "You just made a major mistake. I'm on my period, I am hungry, I'm really pissed and the only victim here is going to be YOU!"

Let's just say he had a face full of dirt and a nice little bump on his head from the conveniently located potted plant I threw at him at the first step he took toward me. But there's nothing funnier than the sight of a terrified intruder tripping over furniture running away from a short chick throwing flowers. While a clay pot of African Violets lacks the lasting effects of Lily of the Valley---they got the job done!

How do I feel now about that brief transformation into crazy? As Walt said, "I liked it...and I was good at it."

RIP Breaking Bad

Car Repair Conclusion

Twenty-one days ago, I took my car to the dealership to have a blown head gasket repaired and this odyssey began. I knew my car wouldn't be touched until after the long Labor Day holiday had passed but that was expected. That's just my luck. I chose to believe that a full-grown, college educated woman,  didn't need a father/brother/hubby etc. to act on her behalf in dealing with a mechanic. That's just my ignorance.

I did some pretty intense research online about what fixing a blown head gasket would involve but apparently, I missed ALOT. You see, when I picked up my car, "Bob" gave me the finished work order form that included all of the following:

"1" intake valve
"2" exhaust valve
Radiator inspection
Head resurfacing
Head gasket set
Head bolts
Timing set
Tune-up assessment
Spark plugs
Wires
Valve cover set
Oil/filter AND
Oil change

I must admit that nowhere in my research did I discover that fixing a blown head gasket required a tune up and an oil change. My cousin James took his car in for new brakes and all he got were brakes. My cousin Ted needed a new fan belt and all he got was a new fan belt. My Uncle Ray had a blown HEAD GASKET and that's all that was fixed. No tune up, no oil change. Why? Because none of them qualified for the "Little Lady" treatment. What's that?

"Now 'Little Lady,'" Bob explained, "women in are here all the time thinking they know what's wrong with their car but that's for us to decide. We always make sure they get the proper treatment."

Mission accomplished. I'm a lot lighter in the wallet and I've been "treated."

Car "Repair" 14 Days Later...

For the past twenty years, I've been a registered nurse specializing in intensive care. I've assisted in open-heart surgery, served in ER, run first-aid stations and assisted various accident victims on numerous backroads and interstates. If you've got a medical issue, I'm a good person to have nearby. Unfortunately, this "status" doesn't help at all when the issue is car repair and mechanics. In fact, every conversation I have with them contains a "We'll see," "We'll be in touch," a few "Little Lady's" and a "Sugar" or two.

The research I did before I took my car to "the shop" was for nothing. Knowing and explaining that my car had a blown head gasket got me nothing but a couple of eye rolls when they thought I wasn't looking. I confess, I expected nothing less.

I correctly guessed that taking my car to the shop on August 28th was just a little too close to the Labor Day holiday to expect any service. At the time, my car was the only one they had but I made myself believe that my car was only one in a long line of customers needing repair. I was wrong but what's a girl to do?

The last fourteen days have found me nearly in solitary confinement. The people I have given rides to in the past suddenly were too busy, too far away or too smart to answer their phones when my number appeared on their caller ID. Calls from friends have stopped...the word is out. I've got no wheels. Again, I expected nothing less.

With no wheels, I have been able to catch up on television. The funniest thing I've seen so far is a commercial about a website designed for women who want to buy a car by themselves. The tagline is something like, "I don't need to take a dude with me..." That makes me laugh every time. I shout back at the TV, "Oh yes you do---Little Lady!"  The only thing funnier than a woman taking information from that site to a car dealer would be taking it to an auto repair shop! I know from experience.......

                                                  FOURTEEN DAYS LATER!

The Car "Repair" Saga Continues

On Wednesday I took my car to the dealership and was informed that the "blown head gasket" would cost $400.00 and half would be needed upfront. Put it on my credit card? No problem. "Steve" said he would run my card and the mechanic would get "right on it." Wonderful.
"Call us back on Friday." he said.

Today I called as instructed only to find that:

 1.The card had never been 'run.' (what?)
                          AND
 2. The mechanic "couldn't possibly start on the car until Tuesday at the earliest." (crap!!)

"I don't understand." I said.
"Well little lady," he said, "it's going to take time and you'll have to pay half up front."
"But you ran my credit card so I could pay half up front."
"Actually, I didn't. But we'll take care of this sometime next week." He hung up the phone. I immediately called back but could only get voicemail. What was going on?

It was at that moment I realized it was Labor Day weekend. This may have started on Wednesday but they had no intention of fixing or even looking at my car that day or the rest of the week. Nothing was going to be done until the end of the holiday---at the earliest.

I spent most of the day mentally beating myself up for believing "Steve" had 'run the card' and the mechanic was 'on it.' How do you NOT run a credit card? Is it like the car salesman who "checks with his manager" who is always "in the back," wastes a little time out of sight, returns to say "it's a done deal" and the customer believes him? Probably. With no father/brother/hubby etc., who'll deal with things like this on my behalf, I'm the perfect fool. My fault.

I always seem to have car issues just before a holiday. Labor Day is no exception. Just my luck, this time it's the holiday that celebrates "work"!

Women Beware When You Need Car Repairs

My car's temp and engine light began flashing. I added antifreeze but over the course of time, I was adding antifreeze once or twice a week. After going online for information, I made an appointment with a nationally known car repair chain who were going to fix my problem--a blown head gasket. I get to the shop and after I explained to them that no, my husband/boyfriend/brother/uncle etc., weren't with me, the "Boys" took the car and I waited in the lobby.

A hour later, I was called to the desk and informed that my bill would be $519.34! "You see hon, you need the $365.00 water pump package, $65.00 warranty and..." the tech said. But I stopped listening at $365.00.

I drove home, told a friend of mine the story and he recommended a mechanic who did "good work." This man came to my home, I explained about the head gasket but then he started telling me how " women are just helpless with cars." It took him less than an hour to fix the car and only charged me sixty dollars. Really? A blown head gasket fixed for sixty dollars?

Two days later, I found that he hadn't fixed the car at all. The temp and engine lights were back on requiring me to add antifreeze again. The man came back to look at the car but he quickly became so condescending I had to make him leave. There is just so much eye-rolling I'll take!

So what have I learned?

As a woman when I need car repairs (and cannot find any male to accompany me), I'm supposed to turn the car over to a mechanic, pay whatever I'm told and be nice about it. Some businesses even have game plans to get more money in unnecessary repairs from female customers. For example, I was supposed to take the car to the "Boys," blindly trust their 'diagnosis,' buy the water pump package and the warranty, leave the car to be fixed, then return to find THEY had discovered an "unforeseen problem"--a blown head gasket... the reason I took the car to them in the first place.