There is something Romantic and cool about driving with the windows down—the wind whipping through your hair, tunes blasting from the stereo. It’s the definition of fun and frivolity.
Except when you have to do it every single day. That’s been my life since my car’s air-conditioning conked out in late July while driving home from Dr. Fiancée’s place.
Yours portly treats his car like it’s a mobile office and cafeteria on wheels; that is to say, I don’t fret too much over its aesthetic appeal. My cars tend to be full of dents, dings, scrapes, scratches, and chips. Their interiors are a collection of crumbs, papers, books, pens, and dog hair.
But even I reach a point where I want my car to look a bit better. When I had some time to kill before meeting Dr. Fiancée and her parents for lunch one day, I went through the five-dollar gas station carwash.
A common custom here in the Southern United States is to have your yard littered with old cars that won’t run. Through a combination of excessive agreeableness and excessive laziness, I had two old junkers on my property until recently: my old 2006 Dodge Caravan, and a late colleague’s 2003 Saturn L200.
I commemorated the departure of both vehicles before the junk car guy came and picked them up (and I pocketed a sweet $240 for each of them). Here are those short videos:
Yours portly is still playing catch-up this Friday, so I’m really phoning it in. I’m actually writing this hasty post mere minutes before my usual 6:30 AM EST posting deadline, so I’ll doubtless be a tad late with this post.
There isn’t one particular reason why I’ve fallen behind a bit on posting (and several other things!). Life is good and my schedule at work is very manageable. It’s mostly a situation of having several things to get done at once, combined with some long days of lessons and errands.
But I am very blessed. Wednesday evening I was out running some errands—I needed to pick up ingredients for a taco dip I bring to parties, as the teachers had a “Friendsgiving” potluck meal yesterday—and my car battery died in the Taco Bell parking lot (that wasn’t for Friendsgiving; that was for me).
In searching through some old blog posts recently, I stumbled upon one from April 2020 about being thankful for the blessings in our lives. The day before I’d written what I thought at the time was a doom-and-gloom post, but reading it now, it wasn’t too bad. I do seem to remember being in an exasperated mood when I wrote it, so that probably explains, in part, the sense of contrition I experienced after writing it.
Regardless, it yielded “Counting Blessings,” a post giving thanks for God’s many blessings in my life. It’s rather serendipitous that I stumbled upon this post again the other day, because the theme of counting one’s blessings is one I’ve been contemplating quite a bit lately.
Life is going well enough for yours portly (I’d better not say that too loudly!). Work is clipping along and I’m hustling big time with lessons. I have a great (and godly) girlfriend, dog, and house, and a supportive family. Things could be worse.
With that here is 29 April 2022’s “Counting Blessings“:
As I recently detailed in the post “Routine Maintenance,” I managed to get my old 2006 Dodge Caravan running again thanks to an $80 battery. I finally hooked up the battery maintainer, too, so hopefully the old girl won’t drain down due to neglect.
After installing that battery, it reminded me of how fun driving a busted up minivan can be. Readers might scoff at that notion, but that van and I share an intimate connection (well, at least I do with it—it can’t really think about who is driving it). After fifteen years, I’ve learned that machine inside and out. Sure, after driving my tiny Nissan it takes some adjustment (I still reach for the gear shifter in the wrong place occasionally, and briefly forget where the lights are), but it’s surprisingly nimble.
Aside from the maintainer, I’ve been taking the van for weekly drives to keep the battery up. My girlfriend and I took it to Lee State Park a few weekends ago, loading our small bit of supplies and her faithful German Shepherd into the cavernous interior. Since then, I’ve only done a few small jaunts with it, with the exception of last Thursday night.
Today we’re back onto Daylight Saving Time, so we’ve lost an hour of sleep and can enjoy a more hours of sunlight. I tend to enjoy nighttime, but going off of Daylight Saving Time is horrible—there are days when, like an Alaskan in January, I don’t see the sun.
Whilst working the SAT yesterday morning, colleagues were discussing the time change, with all the usual remarks: “we should stay on it forever!” or “we can’t control time.” I fellow teacher said, “Time is a manmade concept,” to which I replied, “Yep—that’s why I only date twenty-one-year olds.” That elicited some amused laughter, even though that joke is (for better or for worse) not true.
In thinking about time—our most valuable commodity, as we all run out of it and don’t know how much of it we have—I looked back at some posts loosely related to the concept. In honor of our arbitrary shifting of the clock one hour into the future, allow me to present them to you this abbreviated Sunday:
Well, that’s it. Take some time—giggity—to relax today. Enjoy the sunshine!
Happy Sunday!
—TPP
Other Lazy Sunday Installments:
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Regular readers will know that I’m a schoolteacher, and as such I enjoy multiple, almost random days off, sprinkled generously throughout the academic year (not to mention the three best reasons to teach: June, July, and August). We enjoyed one such break this past weekend—a glorious, four-day weekend dubbed “Winter Break,” in honor (no doubt) of Valentine’s Day and Presidents’ Day, all rolled into one big excuse to stay home.
It was, by all accounts, a meteorologically dreary weekend, with rain that started sometime Friday and lasting through the duration, but it was nevertheless enjoyable. I took in my first movie in the theaters in months, and managed to get a number of miscellaneous items completed (as I’ve always got some side hustles going, I was able to dedicate some time to them, though I still need to work on editing my collection of Inspector Gerard stories).
Besides seeing friends and loved ones, though, I try to use these days to take care of routine maintenance—on the house, on my cars, whatever the case might be. Lately I’ve been borderline fanatical about organization, particularly keeping my desk at home tidy, various writing utensils and calendars at the ready when needed.
This weekend, though, I dedicated several hours to reviving my long lost love: my busted up 2006 Dodge Caravan.
Amid the myriad newsletters and e-mail lists that I promptly delete from my inbox everyday, I stumbled upon this wholesome story, one that evaded swift deletion and digital oblivion. A seventeen-year old Chick-fil-A employee won a car in a company Christmas raffle, and promptly gave it to her nineteen-year old coworker. The coworker had to bike to work every day, adding several hours to her daily workday (though no doubt keeping her in excellent shape).
It’s a life-changing act of generosity, and the kind of thing that always seems to be attached to Chick-fil-A. It’s amazing how an overtly Christian establishment with a strong commitment to quality and good treatment breeds more of the same. I needn’t list the many examples of Chick-fil-A employees doing good things—we’ve all heard dozens of such stories already.
It’s Labor Day 2020 here in the United States, and it’s been a productive weekend for yours portly. My girlfriend and I completely recreated my weed-strewn flower beds, and I felt like my parents—wandering around the garden centers of Lowe’s and Home Depot looking for cypress mulch and discount flowers.
Today, I put down some more mulch, and the beds are looking quite nice. I also swept out my barn—filled with the corpses of roaches caught in the latest defogger blast—and did some light vehicle maintenance. The in-cabin air filter in my little Nissan Versa Note SV desperately needed replacement, and I can now breathe easier knowing a clean filter is in place. I vacuumed out the car, too, and took the opportunity to hose down its filters and various components, which are now drying outside.
Looking back to my Labor Day post for 2019, it’s striking to note the difference in my activities. That Labor Day I played video games; this Labor Day, I’ve been a productive adult American. Granted, I was sick, but perhaps I’m finally growing up.
Regardless, the rest of today will be spent relaxing a bit, as well as doing some planning and grading for the short school week ahead. Next weekend I plan to hit the yard with a new battery-powered string trimmer, pending its shipment and weather permitting. It’s interesting how I will put these necessary home improvement projects off for weeks, but when I finally get to them, I don’t want to stop! Such is the joy of homeownership.
With that, here is last year’s Labor Day post, “Happy Labor Day 2019!“:
It’s Labor Day here in the United States, a day to celebrate the hardworking men and women that make our country great. Yes, I’m sure a holiday engineered by labor unions (like the radical nineteenth-century union the Knights of Labor) has some seedy progressive origins, but I think we can all appreciate a Monday off.
It’s been a pleasant weekend here at the Casa de Portly. All the ambitious plans to grade and catch up on work predictably flew out the window, and I’ve gotten loads of much-needed rest. My hacking cough is virtually gone, and I’m feeling rested and relaxed—a rare sensation for yours portly.
I also rediscovered a fun little turn-based strategy game that has devoured some of my time this weekend: Delve Deeper, from Lunar Giant. You manage a team of five dwarfs as they “delve deeper” (get it?) into critter-infested mines, all while competing against other, AI-controlled teams to mine and loot the most treasure. It’s simple and not exceptionally deep, but it’s quite fun.
I’ve also played some Left 4 Dead 2 with the boys, and watched the heartbreaking finale of the USC-UNC game. Knocking off top-seeded Alabama in a couple of weeks is looking less and less likely. Ugh…—but Go Cocks!
That’s it for today. We’ll be back to history, politics, and the culture wars tomorrow. For now, enjoy some downtime with your family, and try not to think about the collapse of Western civilization for at least one three-day weekend.
Your portly,
TPP
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