Dante

Wow, am I in a posting mood today!!

It's just that, I was sitting here looking at the original paperwork for Dante's "adoption" if you will, and I remembered the day he first arrived in my driveway. It was just days before I met Dale face-to-face.

At one minute before 1pm that afternoon, there was a knock at my door. I pushed aside the butterflies in my stomach and opened the door. The man looked around at the apartment, over my head, and then realized that I was down a bit more. He looked down at me and says cheerfully, "Anyone here expecting a Tacoma?" "That be me," I said, smiling at him. His face registered momentary surprise and then he smiled broadly. "You must be...?" "Yep," I answered, and we shook hands, making our brief introductions. He smiled again and stepped backward a bit, gesturing toward the parking lot. "Well, there it is." I looked out and saw a slightly dusty, black Tacoma sitting in the lot several doors down, the sunlight glinting off the hood and the top portion of the driver's side door. I nodded approvingly. Exactly what I asked for. "You wanna take it for a spin before we get down to business?" he asked. I stepped back inside and shook my head. "Nope. Do you have the paperwork?" His smile faded and was replaced by a disbelieving frown. "You... you don't want to take it for a spin?" "Nope. Paperwork?" My request finally registered. "Oh, okay, yes." Another guy, apparently the driver of their return car, yelled over. "Takin' it for a test spin yet?" The first guy looks over his shoulder at him. "No, she wants the paperwork." "What?!" I hear the car-driver exclaim. "Yeah, grab the paperwork, she wants to do that first." "Paperwork? Really?" "Uh, yeah." "Uh, oh, okay. Be right there." (Or something to that effect.)

It became apparent to me that most people who have a new vehicle delivered before seeing it typically want to drive it before signing anything, and my opposite desire had left the two men near speechlessness. However, I'd never driven a truck before, and I had received my license only a month and a half earlier. This was, obviously, about to be my /first/ vehicle as well, and it was brand-spankin' new. I was so nervous and lightheaded that I may have well been drunk - I was far from the point where I would trust myself to drive my /scooter/ safely, let along a quarter-tonne vehicle that would readily kill anyone in its path.

So the two men came inside with the paperwork and sat across from me at one of my long tables, which I had cleared of components and the like for exactly this purpose. "You, uh, into computers?" one of the men asked, eyeing the piles of stuff on the other tables. "You could say that," I said, smiling nervously. Typically I'd have gone on and on about my hobby-turned-trade, but I was in very unfamiliar territory and needed to keep myself on track, in stark concentration. He made no further comment on the matter and pulled the papers out of a folder, seriousness hitting him like a sudden shadow. These men were cordial, but knew their business.

We spent the next hour poring over the documents, and by the time we were done, my hand had decided that it had signed my name for the last time. The two men shook my hand, each in turn, and congratulated me on my fine purchase. Then they asked if I had any questions about the truck itself. At this point, I realized I'd better look over the truck. So I said, "Well, could you show me how the truck works?" They exchanged startled glances, but smiled and got up. "Of course."

The sun was angled differently now, but the truck was still shining patiently. "I hope you understand that the dust is from the trip down here; and the mileage is for the same reason," one man apologized, well in advance of my even questioning such mental notes. "Oh, of course," I replied, thinking that perfectly logical, and wondering at the apologetic look on his face, which remained a bit despite my assurance that I understood. I realized for the second time that afternoon that one of them must have driven the truck, so I asked who had had the privilege. To my surprise, it was the one I'd earlier assumed had driven the car. He beamed. "Nice ride," he told me excitedly. "Feels like driving a car." I'm sure some folks might have taken offense at that, but that's exactly the comment I was hoping for. My driving instructor had been nervous when I asked him if he thought a truck would be OK for my first vehicle. When I told him that I was looking at Tacomas, though, he had relaxed. "Oh, you'll be fine in one of those. It would be like driving a car, only bigger and higher up." I recalled the twinkle in his eyes and I felt myself relax a bit. That makes two people that feel this way, I thought. Good.

The guy looked the truck over with admiration. My heart skipped a beat as I followed his gaze, looking in at the soft gray interior, sniffing the "new car" smell for the first time. My first vehicle!! He showed me where the wipers were, and warned me that the shifter will only leave "park" if I had the brake depressed. I nodded, wondering why anyone would shift out of park without braking first anyway. Looking at the letters, I could see that it would go into reverse before drive, and thought that wouldn't be good for the gears, and besides, braking would mean you'd have more control should you accidentally switch gears tot he wrong one. Seeing my understanding, he added quietly, "You'd be surprised how many calls we get about broken shifters. Some people don't do the brake thing and force the shifter, breaking the shaft right off." I was horrified but he continued, saying, "They aren't meant to be forced like that, you know." I shook my head and continued my inspection, which had spread into the rear portion of the cab. The tumble seats!! W00t!!

Eventually I was left alone with my new "Toy" (Toy = Toyota, don'tch'know) and I practiced opening the doors, shutting them, and getting in and out of the truck. I cleaned the interior of the already-accumulated dust, polished the windshield, opened the tumblers, assembled and disassembled the jack, and familiarized myself with the instruments. I studied the manual, flipped through the glove compartment and looked for the other books, which I also perused for a good hour. I talked to the truck the whole time, promising to name him as soon as I figured out something suitable.

Finally I got up my nerve and placed the key in the ignition. I turned it, foot planted firmly on the brake, terrified he'd move before I was ready. The engine came to life, its sound reaching my ears for the first time. I knew the beeping sound was because I did not have my seatbelt on yet, so I fastened it and sat there, foot still on the brake. I slowly exhaled and released it. The truck moved forward very slightly, but it stayed put. I played with the instruments some more, testing blinkers, headlights, windshield wipers. I noted that the gas gauge was full and that there were two headlight indicators, one for normal and one for high beams, I assumed, since they changed depending on which position I selected. I could tell from the reflection in the window in front of the truck which position was which.

The moment had arrived. I planted my foot on the brake again and slowly shifted into reverse, noting how easily it moved, yet felt a very satisfying, small thud as it moved into place. No mistaking where it's at, I thought. You're either there, or you're not. Good. My foot began to release its hold and the truck moved backward. I hit the brake, hard. OMG, the thing moved! I craned around, making sure no one was behind me. Then I remembered the gazillion children that lived in the complex and put the truck back in park. Ensuring it was steadily planted, I got out and walked around the vehicle, looking for kids. There hadn't been any around all day, but I'd been absorbed in my new toy, so I wasn't certain if perhaps I'd missed one sneaking around or something.

I even checked UNDER the truck, just to be sure.

My first run was around the complex, where the speed limit was 5mph. I got braver after my second time around and made my way to the exit for a little run around the block. The truck DID feel like a car, but I could see so much more from up there!!

It wasn't hard to park it, either. I sat in the driveway upon my return, exhilarated. I turned the key backwards in the ignition and retracted it.

A gentle giant, I thought to myself. He's got some power to him beneath that quiet exterior. And for the next couple of days I was preoccupied with finding a name for him: Dante Damian.

~nv

Interest Rates

Wow, I'm quite happy with my newest rates... I knew rates made a huge difference but I had no idea until now, when I can really compare things.

Last year, my APR changed (for the better) by about 10%.

Basically, I put $3700 on principal for a little over 1.5 years' worth of payments.
In just 6 months on the new rate, I'd put in $3000 on the principal, paying the same amount I was paying before.

Yikes, huh?

Now, granted, that's $3700 less that I'm not paying interest on, but still... that's a HUGE difference. Remind me to save a lot more in the future, though, so I don't have to borrow so long... LOL

~nv

Sandy-itis

Hamsters can be quite cute, but egads, is one of mine lacking a wee bit o' common sense.

I'm cleaning her cage, so I let her run around my room, diligently picking up any and all wires (I still have yet to fix the last network catastrophe to my satisfaction). Sinclair, I knew, was in the hallway outside the door, but when I shut the door to keep kitty away from hammie, he was half-asleep. I knew, too, that Sandy would eventually make her way to the door and try to get under (she never can, so I seldom worry about that part).

What I neglected to realize was that Sinclair's claws have not been trimmed and are very sharp, and of course he's going to awaken from his falsified stupour and go after the tender fuzzy flesh of a dumb hamster.

In due time, Sandy found the door and started her routine. I heard a bit of a fuss and glanced over to see a little white cotton ball shoved under the door. Sandy was sniffing it disdainfully. "What the... uh... is that Sinkie's paw?" I wondered to myself. As if in answer, another cotton ball was shoved under the door about five inches away, barely missing Sandy as she jumped away in some semblance of concern for her own safety. Then the dodohead walks around the other paw, goes RIGHT to the door, and before I could get up to rescue her from the likely danger, the first paw flashes toward her and snags her three inches toward its previous location.

She didn't cry out, but she was quite alarmed and was struggling on the tips of the claws. I screamed sharply and got to her just in time to see her wrench herself free of the claws and sit there scratching at the side she'd been nabbed on. I sighed in relief, and then, to my horror, she ambled back over to the door - and the awaiting claws.

I grabbed her as the claws attempted another closing and tried to steady my beating heart. I scolded her and she turned away, an expression of longing on her face as she scrambled in my hand in the direction of the door.

What is so fascinating about getting out of this sizable room, I don't know, but she wants out in the worst way! I've since blocked the door completely so claws cannot reach her, but zheezh... one would think that having been clawed she'd give up on her endeavours to reach a new version of freedom.

Anywho, now that my heart is beating regularly, I'd best go find the little bugger... last time I saw her, she was ambling up the side of my computer carrier, and there are pockets on that thing that would love to suck in an unsuspecting hamster. *rolling eyes*

~nv

Coincidence, insight

One of those "coincidences" just occurred a short while ago.

I was on my way to the store to get some heavy cream, and found myself highly reflective. I neglected to think of bringing some headphones for the walk, and thought at the end of our street, nah, I'll just relish the solitude, sunshine, nature, and serenity offered by this little town. So I continued on, half-wishing I had the tunes and half-glad I was completely alone without them.

My thoughts ranged from the trip to work to my appreciation for nature, people I know, fresh insights about myself, and of course, Dale, and how lucky I am to have him in my life.

At the top of the hill, not much farther from the store, I began to hear a beat - music! Some guy was working in his yard and had a radio on. I matched my steps to it as I drew nearer and wondered what song it might be, happy that my reverie was enhanced by a hint of a welcome past time. It turned out to be the country version of "When You Say Nothing At All." I felt a tingle run up and down my spine and it settled within that wide spot in my torso which I equate with my "spiritual center" - the place that always feels warm and fuzzy whenever I've hit upon something spiritually meaningful. See, I'd impartially thrown that song onto my mp3 player shortly after Dale and I moved here, and I hadn't taken much notice of it until one day it came on as I was walking up to Beaver Pond by myself. It sent shivers down my spine, then, too, because it reminded me of Dale and I. (How trite, I know.)

Coincidence as perhaps it could be called, it's noteworthy to mention the numerous things that had to be in place for me to encounter this song as a spiritual moment struck me: Decision to make muffins, desire to have cream with them, decision to walk to store, leaving the headphones behind in favour of silent appreciation for this little town, and the exact moment that I decided to leave for this short journey, only to arrive at the top of a hill within a particular three-minute-something timeframe so that I heard a song that is so meaningful to me as the sun shown down so brightly. Sometimes it seems that everything about Dale is shrouded in perfect timing (consider how we met).

I won't delve into the spiritual awakenings that ensued as I bought my milk and cream and returned home, but I wanted to share some of the profundities so apparent in life.

"When You Say Nothing At All," sung by at least a handful of artists, notably Alison Krauss:

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart
Without saying a word you can light up the dark
Try as I may I could never explain
What I hear when you don’t say a thing

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

All day long I can hear people talking out loud
But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd
Old Mr. Webster could never define
What’s being said between your heart and mine

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

Freeeeeee

As of 6:19pm last night, I am officially FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! for a whole month. Quite liberating, in fact.

Saturday we're heading out on our trip. I've been thinking a lot about how I've gotten to where I am today, and how things often fall into my lap in a way. Not that I've never attempted to work towards obtaining the good things in my life, but I just never really feel like I'm working all that hard to get anywhere. Yeah, there are some work struggles, and inner struggles, but it's like the past was so much harder that struggles these days are scarcely that.

Stepping stones, I guess, stepping stones. I started out a scared, shy little person, left to her own devices after just a few years of life, and now here I am out in the workforce, married, on vacation, pursuing the rest of the country for a time. Friend of mine last night asked me why I occasionally feel sad, and I said I did not know. It's become an acceptable part of my life, one that I allow to pervade my being now and again; otherwise, it digs itself into a small place within me and festers until it is unbearable. Acknowledging it as a part of who I am and taking the time to nurture it seems the quickest way to feel the sunshine so warmly yet again. I will not deny, either, that the sadness is comfortable in its familiarity.

My friend made a fairly casual remark which I found greatly insightful. She said something about how childhood can stay with you. While I'm aware that one's earlier years can shape a person, I hadn't really thought of the healing that must go on forever from a traumatic childhood. It hit me that perhaps my sad moments truly are about nothing current. I remember reading once that people often remember trauma or start recovering from it once they feel happy and safe. It's a conundrum of sorts: "Wow, I'm so happy! Why am I so sad?" Perhaps, then, the sadness that lingers within me from time to time is the little creature I hold so dear to my heart, the one that remembers the loneliness, desolation, emptiness, pain. I liken this little person to Samantha, the little girl I saw in a haze several years ago. I did not know then who she was and an inner voice told me I'd be her mother one day. Thinking of it literally, I wondered over it, having already determined that I did not want children; yet each time I dated someone I inwardly wondered if perhaps she would in fact one day exist somehow. Then, too, I've occasionally wondered if she was a manifestation of an inner desire to have a child, despite all my outward protests to the contrary. Knowing that Dale does not want kids, either, however, I'm all too content with my decision and feel rather secure in our agreement.

So on occasion, I've gone back to the possible future ahead of us. Accidents can happen, so I've been told. And I do not know what the future truly holds. Yet in the past few months I've wondered more and more if perhaps the inner voice had nothing to do with the concept of a nuclear family; perhaps she is not meant to be a physical part of our lives at all. There have been times in my life where I have seen things that later happened, but this has always felt different. For so long I thought it was because it concerned me personally, and until then I could not remember anything that would eventually happen to me personally. My own life was a mystery, revealed only in time.

Who is this child I foresaw, then? Why was she so real, so tangible? If I'm honest with myself and look upon my memory of her face, I can only think that she is me. She is the sad child I once was, and with my adult knowledge and reasoning powers, I am in fact my own mother, nurturing myself and comforting those times of sadness when she comes out with tears in her eyes, afraid and unstable and full of wonder about the world around her despite the desperate uncertainty. I have become the person I always needed to teach me things that my faith could not show me directly.

Samantha, then, is that sadness which I hold dear, for without her, I would not exist. And rather than hold her in a prison for eternity, I've chosen to allow her the sense of freedom to be herself; I hold her upon my lap when she cries out, and hold her in my arms when she's most vulnerable. Is that not what an adult mother does for her child?

Today I'm not sad, though. Reflective, yes, but not sad. Another friend of mine - I believe I can call her more than an acquaintance now - seems to have been placed in my path almost as if by planned chance. We had a most interesting conversation recently, concerning faith and science and a number of other intellectual subjects. During our discourse, it struck me several times how much I enjoyed talking to this person, and how like-minded we are in quite a number of areas, yet still different. Being at a point of near-stagnation due to such levity being present in my life, I found it comforting to know that my brain is still so capable of learning and philosophizing with another human being.

True to form, that side of me which seizes hold of such encounters began a journey into the maze of twinkling lights and dizziness. I saw this person fade in and out of existence before me as I pulled back into the familiar realm of theory, discernment, and spirituality. This does not happen often and I revel in the abstractness of it, for my life now is so steadily based in what people consider reality.

Methinks I'll go for a walk and seek out some heavy cream, if it can be had in the town's store. Just baked some blueberry muffins and brewed a pot of tea, and the thought of a small side of cream is so luxuriously appealing that I have yet to touch my breakfast without it. Besides, this is the first day of my vacation, and the sun has decided to come out for the first time in days.

~nv