Hot Cranky People

I got my first ever new car. I am in love.

A VW Passat

It has all sorts of fanciness. Leather seats. Power everything. Blue console lights. A key that folds up. Windshield wipers that automatically sense how much rain is falling and wipe at the appropriate speed.

I’ve named her Betty. Why? Not sure. Arlo asked, “What are you going to name it?” and without a moment’s hesitation I said, “Betty. Betty Passat”.

Betty Passat. I think it suits her.

And she’s got that new car smell. Mmmm.

Today at the local produce market I bought a fruit I’d never seen before, the pummelo.

It’s like a mutant grapefruit. I should have taken a photo of it to show you that it was about as big as my head. But I didn’t. So here instead is a photo of some other woman with a pummelo.

Apparently the modern grapefruit is actually a cross between the pummelo and the orange. Arlo keeps calling it a “pummelope”, but I pointed out that a “pummelope” would most likely be a cross between a punching bag and an antelope. That doesn’t sound too tasty.

Anyway, I was mesmerized by the pummelo and had to bring one home. We cut it in half and ate some this afternoon. Tasted pretty much like grapefruit. It has a crazy thick rind with a disturbingly spongy texture. Arlo thought the rind might be suitable for making earplugs.

This evening I found myself sitting in the living room, while Arlo went into the kitchen to make tea.

Me (from the living room): Sweetie? Watcha doing in there?
Arlo (from the kitchen): Nothing. *boyish giggling*
Me: What’s that carving sound? I thought you were making tea.
Arlo: Um, yeah… *more giggling*

Yes, faced with half of the giant fruit left, Arlo made the only logical choice, which was to carve a face into it using the pumpkin carving kit my mom bought us yesterday “as a treat”.

And thus begins a new Halloween tradition. For generations to come, families will gather around the kitchen table, tiny plastic saws in hand, for the annual carving of the pummelo. “Earplugs for everyone!” Grandpa will yell, as he sculpts the carved out chunks into a custom set for each kid.

Good times.

Today I move to California.

My next post will be from my new home. This last month of craziness will be behind me, and I can start blogging properly again. It’s been more of a journal for the last month, but never fear. Soon I will have settled into my new life, and I’ll be free to write of potato salad and angry seething rakes again. If they have either of those things in Mountain View, that is.

Tomorrow is moving day.

Slight change of plan. I’m hiring movers. And they are coming on Saturday. Thank god my mother is coming to town tomorrow to help me pack. The whole house. In four days.

Yikes.

Who decided that the mini candy bars should be called “fun size”?

What’s fun about having less candy? Nothing. “Ooh look, one tiny bite of chocolate. This is FUN!”

I think “fun size” should mean “as big as your head”.

Looks like my move is happening sooner than I thought. And it looks like I will be driving a truck across the country instead of having movers take my stuff.

I have to get packed in about a week. Am I excited? Yes. But I’m overwhelmed. I’m nervous. I’m pretty much a big ball of crazy.

I have an insane amount of stuff to get done in the next week. I hope I can pull it off.

When I was a kid, I always dreamed of having a fridge with a water and ice dispenser in the door.

Guess what? Our new house has one.

Look out, world. I have arrived.

I am so easily pleased.