Saturday, January 2, 2010


31 degrees below zero when I woke up this morning.  Brrrrr.  I couldn't get my car started.  It's a 2002 Mazda and it was parked in the garage.  My sister's car is a 1998 Mazda and it was parked started.  My sister named her car.  She talks to it all the time and says nice things.  Maybe that's why it started.  Maybe she has appealed to it's sensitive side?  Maybe I need to name my car and whisper sweet nothings to it when it's cold outside.

I had a car with a name once.  It was a black Grand Am.  She was pretty and she was fast.  Her name was Wendy.  Wendy was the name I used when I went out dancing with my friends.  We would meet boys and they would ask me what my name was.  It was usually better to keep details like that to myself.  One day this boy gets my number from one of my friends and calls my parent's house and asks for Wendy.  I hear my mom saying that he has the wrong number.  I said, "Is he asking for Wendy?"  My mom says, "Yes", and I tell her that it's for me.

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