Saturday, February 14, 2009

Friday Night Fights

First a few housekeeping items to get us started . . .

Thanks to all who tried to help me with my earlier technical difficulties. Whatever the source of the viewing problem, it seems to now be resolved. . . . Phew!!!

And thanks to Angela at Hanging with Mrs. Cooper for featuring me on her blog yesterday. Too bad it happened to be a day when half of the world's population couldn't see my blog, but what did we expect for Friday the 13th???

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So, as I told you yesterday, Ponzi got her driver's license.

That means that all three of my daughters are now driving.

And while I can't help but rejoice in the fact that I will never, ever, never, for the rest of all eternity, never-ever be required to drive another daughter to the mall, a friend's house, or the movies!!!!!!!!!! the prospect of having another driver in the house is a tad bid scary.

This makes five drivers in a household with four cars. And I have a strange feeling that the addition of this new driver will give a new meaning to the term Friday Night Fights - for not all of our cars are considered "Teenager Friendly". Since my daughters have taken the time to name our cars, it's only proper that I introduce you to them. . .

Roberta: A very thirsty 2001 Jeep Liberty who is the proud survivor of two accidents. Roberta currently calls our driveway home (that is, until I phone the house from in front of the neighbor's to tell a daughter to move Roberta back out to the street so I can access my garage.)

Percy: A sweet, but oil-burning, green Toyota Camry (circa 1996) with about 110,000 spins-around-the-block under her belt and my nieces and nephews' smart college stickers already on the back windshield. If you can somehow get over the feeling that we are a family of impostors, you might think the driver came from a half-way intelligent family. Percy currently resides with my college-aged daughter on the beach in Connecticut (when, of course, she's not running up and down the Eastern seaboard on weekends. . . )

White Ice: My 1999 Plymouth Grand Voyager who proudly sports three hubcaps, a perpetually broken passenger window, and a rather finicky brake light.

Husband's Car: For some unknown reason, this 2000 Jeep Grand Cherokee is off-limits to all other drivers in the household, and so - consequentially - my daughters do not think he warrants his own name and the other cars in the stable think he's snobby.

So, as you can guess, there will be a bit of competition for Roberta's attention until Trigger goes to college.

Girls, I beg you! Could you please go easy on poor Roberta???? In the four years we have owned her, she has been subject to more abuse than any good car should be - missing documentation. . . broken taillights. . . painful cigarette burns. . . unfair parking tickets . . . costly illegal turns. . . crumpled license plates . . . and spilled lattes - it's clear to me that she needs you to give her a well-deserved "brake" from time to time!

And how about White Ice? Why must you shun her so???? She was good enough to you two girls when you needed to cart your little friends home from birthday parties and Irish dancing classes - now wasn't she? And Trigger? What about that Memorial Day weekend when you almost went into shock from the frigid water temperature at the shore . . . didn't her heater stick with you until your teeth stopped chattering? And, Ponzi? Do you remember who safely delivered you to the ER when you had appendicitis??? And who rescued you both from the big city this past summer - walk of shame and all???? White Ice - that's who!!!

Do you really think these cars need to be witnesses to your Friday Night Fights - and all of the screaming, kicking, and hair-pulling it entails????

I think not.

So girls, make sure you do your squabbling in the house from now on. Not in front of the kids. . . okay???