A month ago I gave my car to my brother. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, that c jane she is always thinking of others. Giving her car away, what next? But really, I gave away my car because I had the grand presumption that Chup would buy me a new one. A fancy, new one with OnStar!
Maybe in all my presuming and assuming I forgot who I married, He Who Waits. It is not that Chup hasn't spent the last month scouring the earth for my new ride, because he has, it's just that he has insists on having an agenda. His agenda includes: stable design, slick engineering and after market features. He will not buy a car if the button that rolls in the window down is too skinny or cold. Or if the turn signal ticks wrong. And always--this is important--Chup looks for vehicles that suits an exceptionally tall man as equally as his short wife. (If you really think about this concept you will see why we have a hard time enjoying the same spaces.) Mostly, Chup has all the patience in the planet. He will wait until VAVOOM! The perfect car appears. And to my surprise, it always does.
But this post isn't about all that, this is about yesterday when I realized that I don't want a car.
For a few weeks now I've had several items needing delivery to Azucar. She lives a good couple miles from my house. Yesterday, we had a free morning so I strapped The Chief into our loyal stroller and a way we went.
First, we walked to the university's mail room where I mailed a letter. Incidentally, I mailed a letter to a neighbor who lives in a house we passed on our way to mail the letter. But who doesn't love a letter in the mail box? I mean, besides people who don't love a letter in the mail box?
We passed over to the stadium where I found a big stick for The Chief to inspect for fifteen minutes. Every knob and fiber was manipulated by his little hands. Who knew? A stick!
We also watch the stadium landscaping crew work out their morning plans and saw one of them get tangled up in a tree while mowing alone on the north side. This caused him to panic, and became overly-frustrated. When he looked around to see if anyone saw him, we waved. Because we did! We saw him get plowed by a tree while mowing! And it was hilarious!
After we dropped off the goods to Azucar's condo and patted the handsome head of El Guille, we had a brief repast of crackers and water. After a half block we stopped to listen to a symphony of construction, parts with whirring drills, beeping tractors and the percussion of constant hammering.
Then it was off to the museum to visit Katy where we examined a massive stuffed elephant and a furry-tailed skunk. I will tell you something, I love the smell of the Bean Museum. It's a perpetuation of moth-balls, fluids of preservation and memories all in one spot.
While I asked Katy a spread of questions regarding their controversial white rhino, The Chief crawled among the bird displays. I am relieved to know that my son has no fear of stuffed birds. This is good for his future as a biologist. In case.
Outside of the museum we caught the heavenly scent of lilacs and heard the bell tower strike two o'clock. Nearing nap time, I pushed a little faster but couldn't resist for a stop off at the Creamery where I bought a selection of house cheeses. And a tube of English muffins because it's always time for toast.
Our simple errand had turned into a refreshing adventure. Transporting in cars eliminates a lot of the world's sensory experiences. In our autos we regulate our world, our temperature, our music, our comfort. But the vulnerability of pedistrainism makes for a conscious ordeal. See how much we would've missed out on had we just waited for a ride?
In anticipating the realization of Chup's agenda, I have come to truth. I don't need a car, I need to get out and walk. Smell the flowers, eat cheese, laugh at people who don't want to be laughed at. That sort.
If you see us around in your neighborhood, please wave, but don't honk. That just makes me feel embarrassed. You know.