When to replace a car?

Just got a $1000 repair estimate for my $3000 blue-book value car.  ($500 in absolutely necessary to turn the check engine light off repairs, $500 to replace a couple of axles that cause vibration.)  The car is 10 years old with 36,000 miles on it.  (It’s also all shiny and clean because DH had it detailed for me as a Christmas present.)  To get a newer model of our current car would be about $15,000.

Since we’re only taking one car with us to paradise next year (this is one of those sacrifices people make in paradise if they want to continue saving for their kids’ college, but there’s public transportation so it’s not so bad), if we do decide to get rid of the car, this summer would be a good time to do that so we don’t have to find a place to store it.

In the past, my rule had been to replace a car when the cost of repairs was greater than the value of the car, but that was easy when we had a single major repair cost.  When they start coming in in drips and drabs like this it’s harder to make that comparison.  At the same time, the drips and drabs are annoying when each one means we’re down to one car for a week (I end up having to do all pick-ups and drop-offs and don’t have as much work flexibility, unless DH plays chauffer which means extra driving).  Time is money!

It’s still a good little fuel efficient car.  And it looks all shiny and new on the inside right now.  I’m a bit attached to it.

So we’re paying the $1000 now, and we’ll rethink this after the next repair bill or it’s time to go to paradise, whichever comes first.

How do you decide when it’s time to replace a car?

RBOC

  • I was depressed for no reason for a week or two.  (Well, not no reason, I mean, there were disappointments and things, but usually things I get over.)  I thought maybe it was my diet (refined carbs had crept in), but changing that, while it helped, didn’t make it go away completely.  Then I took some of the vit D I have been supposed to be taking.  20 min later I felt back to normal.  Note to self:  Vit D.  Take it.
  • I wish we could afford 6K/month in rent.  That would make a lot of things a lot easier.  [Update:  now 7K/mo in rent… housing prices be crazy.]
  • What is it with toddlers and imaginary keys?  Dc2’s imaginary dragon was stuck and needed a key to get out.  At just a little bit older than this age, dc1 was pulling imaginary keys to open imaginary doors blocking hir path.  Our children are magical.
  • This year we’ve gotten 3 Christmas cards for the people we bought the house from EIGHT years ago.  Usually we get one or fewer.  Hopefully the online whitepages has their “new” address correct.
  • Dear retired FBI guy, I still do not know the personal schedule, cell phone number, etc. of the gentleman whose office is next to mine.  I am also still not a secretary, personal appearances (given my lack of Y chromosome) to the contrary.
  • Dear students, especially those who I have never seen before in my life, you need to get a new stapler in your workroom because my stapler is not your personal stapler.  Again, I am still not a department administrative assistant, and if you’re going to turn your exam in to a department administrative assistant *anyway* then you should use her stapler.
  • Dear new administrative assistant, I am having a really hard time understanding why all these people cannot find you because you are ALWAYS just across the hall from me talking really loudly to the student workers keeping anybody from getting any work done.  Maybe that’s why the guy whose office is next to mine is never here.
  • So, #2 tried a more casual first paragraph in a cover letter and got a call-back almost immediately.  Trying to figure out if that’s going to work for every job or specific kinds of jobs or if it was just a fluke.
  • Nice kitty currently on Prozac to see if that stops the peeing.  She hasn’t peed yet that we’ve found, but she also is spending all of her time hiding from us– she seems subdued and unhappy.
  • DC2 officially started the new daycare this week!
  • Age 8 seems to have replaced age 7’s sulking with annoying elementary school humor.  We think that’s a good trade.
  • Alligator pear is another name for avocado.  Who knew?  (#2 did.)
  • Am I the only toddler mother in the world who is not interested in talking at length about poo?  [Update:  brief survey of my coworkers suggests the answer is no.]
  • One more bullet though– gotta brag about DC1 finishing Hard Math.  It really was hard!  And sooo awesome!  (Gotta tell the blog, because who else can I tell?)

Deaccessioning: A sad post

… Not actually that sad.

Last night we laid out the space and we estimate that between the two of us we can fit in about 11 bookcases in the new apartment.

Currently we have 16 bookcases and 2 built-ins.

Oops.

We’re still working on deaccessioning the relatively easy stuff. I’m down under 1300 books, from a high well over 1500.  My partner has at least that many, too!

We’re going through by areas of the house. Some bookshelves are just full of stuff that can’t go. Others are full of chaff. So we start with the chaff.

Gonna be a lean mean LIVING IN PARADISE machine.

I discovered there are some books I was keeping out of guilt, and now I feel great about letting go of them.  I have some “I’m never going to read this” and “I read this but don’t ever ever want to read again” and “why do I have this?”  (note that it took YEARS into our relationship before I EVER felt ok about getting rid of a book he’d given me as a gift.  But now I know we just have love and a stable relationship, and there will be more gifts.)  There are also books that I realized I can get rid of because I’ve internalized the knowledge that I need from them after many years.

At some point we’re going to end up having to make hard choices. Probably what will happen is we’ll bring way too many books anyway and have to deal with it there in some way.  I’m totes gonna overfill the bookcases we have with double-stacking and all. It gonna be all jenga up inside.  And then who knows?

We could add something moralistic about minimalism or money spent or what have you, but that would just be patronizing, so we won’t bore you with that.  I HAVE NO REGRETS.  Except the regret that downsizing comes with deaccessioning, but sacrifices must be made, and there’s a good library in walking distance to our new apartment.  In the meantime, onto the next quadrant!

#2 notes that they have 13 bookcases, including built-ins, but that’s only because her partner tends to get rid of books after reading them rather than holding on to them.  (Sometimes he’ll be halfway through a new book he just bought and realize he bought it, read it, and got rid of it years ago.)  Also most of her newly purchased romance novels are on kindle.

Bibliophiles, how do you deal with not having enough space for books?

Before and after: Housing edition

Before:  big, cheap, stupid, and located in hell

After:  small, expensive, smart, nice and in walking distance to everything– restaurants, parks, shopping, grocery stores, public transportation, THE LIBRARY

I think Imma need these.  You put them under your bed frame legs to get your bed up higher so you can store more stuff under there.   I have some plastic drawers that I can stick under there.  I might get some cardboard ones for sweaters (so they can breathe). or I might put books under there. Or general stuffas! I feel like “random crap” should maybe go in there rather than valuable shelving. Good times, good times

Downsizing sucks.  It’s work. Boring and tedious.

That’s it.

I refuse to talk anymore about apartments. You don’t even know how burned out I am.  It’s MY apartment and even I’m tired of it.

I have one.  It’s nice.  Though I won’t really know how nice it is until we’ve lived there for a while.

The end.

Next up:   I refuse to talk about moving.

Even the super-confident super-awesome are not immune to culture

Occasionally I have to take a break from mommy-blogs.

Why?  Because they make me anxious.

I know, you’re thinking, how could *I* be anxious about parenting?  I’m the laziest (non-negligent) parent on the planet and my kids are disgustingly perfect (though of course you note that I would never use the adverb, “disgustingly,” I would say they’re “awesomely” perfect or something [actually I would say “amazingly,” but I grant you our frequent use of “awesome”]).  Both of these are true.

But mommy-blog anxiety gets even to me.  Culture is *that* strong.  There’s only so many blogs on having to lose the baby-weight, worrying about what/how much baby is eating or how much screen time toddler is getting or worrying about whether something is too early or too late or too long or whateverthe[expletive deleted] before even I start questioning if these are things I should be worrying about and are my kids really as wonderful as they seem [spoiler alert:  they are!] and if so, what’s wrong with them [rational answer: nothing!].

Now, I’m not talking about blogs where the kids or parents have actual real problems+.  [Also, I’m not singling out any one blog right now.  This unnecessary anxiety seems to be a contagion that is going through a huge number of mommy blogs right now.]  I’m talking about blogs where the kids are seemingly perfect, and the mom is seemingly perfect, but instead of acknowledging that fact, it’s anxiety this and worry that.  If their seeming perfection is wrong, then maybe I’m wrong about mine.

Of course, I’m not.  Even when the skinny girl complains about how fat she is, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with my normal weight.  But (just like in college with the weight thing) I can only stand so many repeated hits before it starts to get to me.  The patriarchy is expert at using the virtual paper cut as a primary weapon.  It perfected the ton-of-feathers attack.  Any one blog or post or NYTimes article can be brushed off, or given a supportive comment in response.  At some point part of me wants to say, “CALM the [expletive] down!  You’re working for the patriarchy!”  But that’s not supportive so I try not to, especially since it’s not any one post’s fault or even any one blogger’s fault– it’s the culmination of many posts and blogs with the same message to be more anxious.  I get grumpy because the patriarchy does that to me.

And you may be thinking, “You’re grumpy because deep down you know things aren’t really that perfect.”  But that’s not true.  Deep down I know they really are, because I have huge trust in my family.  I have trust that even if there’s bumps and growing pains, that they’ll figure things out for themselves even if I’m not doing whatever is “optimal” for them.  I trust that there is no “optimal,” that there’s just “different” and “sub-optimal” is another word for “learning experience” (or, as my mom would say, “character building”).  I trust that my husband and I love our kids and will always be there for them and that they know that.  I don’t have to trust me to know deep down that my kids are doing great, I have to trust them and my husband and that we’ll tackle the challenges as they come.

And I’m sure there will be challenges and we’ll work through them.  But if there aren’t any right now, I don’t need to @#$#@ing create any.

I could do one of three things.  1.  I could comment super-supportive calming words on these blogs in an attempt to spread confidence (though of course this sometimes backfires because tone is difficult in writing among other reasons), 2.  I could do lots of introspection and re-affirm my core confidence and awesomeness, or 3.  I could avoid the anxiety paper-cuts by not going to those blogs.  Guess which option is the least work and most conducive to getting two more papers and a grant proposal out before summer ends?++

So… currently taking a break from mommy blogs, at least until swim-suit season is over.

+And we are *certainly* not talking about things like post-partum depression.

++Also note that we are not blaming people for working through their anxieties via the media of blogging.  It’s the patriarchy that is the ultimate root cause of that kind of unnecessary anxiety.  But that doesn’t mean we have to read about it if it has negative effects on our own well-being.

Romance novel tropes that we love and that we hate

Hate:  Anything where something was misheard and if the characters just @#$ing talked to each other that big misunderstanding would be cleared up and the book would have ended in chapter 3.

Love:  When the main character tries to play matchmaker disastrously and ends up falling for the person she’s supposed to be matchmaking.  (And everything turns out great for the other half of the pair as well.)  Bonus points for same-sex couples getting together.

Hate:  September/May romances with super young heroines unless they’re done really well and don’t seem like pedophilia.

Love:  When characters are forced into a relationship (not a forced sexual or romantic relationship because that’s awful, but like they both have guardianship of the same dog or house or something) and through working together they come to love each other.

Hate:  When one or both of the main characters is too dumb to live.

Love:  When the hero asks if it’s ok to kiss the heroine (and she says yes!)

Hate:  Anything non-consensual.  When the hero refuses to take no for an answer.

Love:  Feisty older ladies like aunties who scheme in a good way.  Also young managing misses too, like BFFs or sisters.  So long as it all turns out for the best.

Hate:  When the main characters don’t come clean to each other soon enough.  He or she is actually rich.  Or he’s really his brother.  They get some leeway here if the reason they don’t come clean is because they’re in love and the other protagonist hates wealthy people, or if the future of England will be compromised if ze drops hir disguise,  but never if they just think it’s amusing to let the other person think she’s falling in love with the gardener even though she’s a lady and it’s a regency romance (for example).  And if the latter does happen, then at that point, the hero needs to LOSE the girl until he makes it up to her by losing some of his dignity as well so he’s learned his lesson about not being a jerk.  Heroes are redeemable, but they shouldn’t be allowed to end the book as jackasses.

Love:  Coincidences that turn out not to be actually coincidences, but part of an intricate plot to get everything to work out.  (Real coincidences in moderation, but be light on the deus ex machina.)

Hate:  when she takes off her glasses she’s actually beautiful, not mousy, like she was with them on.  Glasses make a woman automatically ugly.

Love:  Strong well-developed supporting characters who have personalities and aren’t just 2-d stereotypes.  (Whether or not they fall in love with someone by the end of the book!)

Hate:  All the characters are disagreeable.

Love:  When two old battleaxes fall for each other while trying to help the youngsters.  (or rekindle their romance from their younger days)

Hate:  Heroine bemoans that she’s too busty for fashionable beauty.  Really, your boobs are too big, and that’s your problem?

Love:  Women have genuine friendships and value them highly.

Hate:  You can tell who will end up in bed together by who hates each other the most at the start.

Love:  When there are multiple ways for everything to come out just right in the end– the characters don’t just wait on deus ex machina fate to intervene.

What are your favorite and least favorite romance tropes?

On Pizza: A PSA from Grumpy Rumblings

The best pizza is Chicago Style deep-dish, or perhaps Chicago-style stuffed.  (Hat tip to Lou Malnati’s for having sausage-crust pizza when I was pregnant at a conference and unable to eat wheat that one time.)

NY pizza is just wrong.  It’s FLOPPY.  And thin.  If pizza is thin, then it should be crispy.  You should never be able to fold a pizza.  That’s a crime against humanity.  Barbaric.

This message brought to you by Grumpy Rumblings.

 

Note that this is not tagged deliberately controversial because it isn’t.  If you disagree you are just *wrong*.  But feel free to disagree in the comments.

So we’ll know who you are. *ominous music*

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