Sunday, January 8, 2012.
Eating At Home, Because We Must.
The Marys wanted to see what eating at home was like, after two weeks of not doing so. Mary Leigh made up a batch of her tomato sauce, while Mary Ann grilled some chicken breasts. Then they made me eat it too. I would have enjoyed it more had there been a salad. I don't know why they won't let me cook.
I jacked up my car to remove a flat tire, which I will take to the tire store tomorrow for a repair. It looks brand new, but I'll bet dollars to dingo dung that they tell me I need a new one. Since it went irremedially flat before we left for Virginia, if I have to replace it that will make six tires I've had to buy for this car in 2011. There's something wrong here.
The flat tire is standing in the way of some other repairs. I can't get a new brake tag (it's now expired) because my back-up lights won't work. My back-up lights won't work because (sez one mechanic) my transmission has a problem. My transmission has a problem because the clutch won't disengage fully. On top of that, I'm told I have a leaking oil pan gasket. This sounds like about three grand to me. I have to get it all done this week, while Mary Leigh is still home and I can use her car. She hates for me to use her car because I move the seat back and readjust the rear-view mirror. The fact that I pay the note on the car means, of course, nothing.
Mystery: why am I lately getting a lot of orders for my cookbook? And for quite a few Hungry Towns, too. We're too far past Christmas for that to explain it. I spent a couple of hours tonight autographing books, until I discovered that I didn't have enough to fill all the orders. A good problem.
