mike and I wandered into a car dealership this evening with the intention of buying a very specific truck. The car manufacturer is having a particularly good sale at the moment, and I have a credit card the generates incentives that lower the cost of the vehicle even further. As both of us had use of a truck, and neither of our spouses objected, we pulled the trigger and decided to buy.

So, we headed in, found the truck (not really, it's in transit, and they have no idea where it is, it's "somewhere"), and said we'd purchase.

We sat down and were immediately asked a ton of credit application questions: drivers license, social security number, employer information. The salesman initially asked me for the information, and I completely balked. We're paying cash, people, caaaaash.

Mike, being the hero he is, stepped up and put the vehicle in his name, filling out the credit application.

After a few moments, he started balking, too. Why do you need my social security number to buy a car IN CASH.

The only thing you should need to buy a car is the cash and a drivers license. This Patriot Act thing is a fucking piece of crap.

When I was around 12 years old, I came across my mom sitting on the stairs leading to the second floor, crying. I had heard a loud noise, and had gone to investigate. She had fallen down the stairs, and was recovering at the bottom.

Actually, I can tell you the exact date this happened: March 7th, 1982. How's that for a memory like a steel trap?

Mom was pretty blue. Things were not going well for her, and I suspect she was quite unhappy. Divorce and three kids, a new job, an uncertain future, the weight of her world on her shoulders. No, not at all surprising she was crying.

Except to me. I was puzzled. Why would Mom be crying? I asked her. She answered. And then I told her she wasn't supposed to cry.

"Why not?"

"You're an adult. Adults don't cry."

I don't know her response, but my comment was definitely made from the ignorance and perceptions of youth. Adults didn't cry in my presence, I had seen only children cry, therefore, I believed (yes, ignorantly and stupidly) only children cried.

Mind you, this was before I started taking logic classes the following year, and it would be four more years before I learned of the concept of guilt by association.

As an adult, I laugh at the thought that adults don't cry. Been doing too much of it lately to think I could (would?) outgrow it.

Ah, nothing like starting the new year wishing for a new lower GI tract, wondering what is going on with your abdomen, and hoping you could just throw up already to be done with all of this.

The year will go up from here, right?

Note to self on clothing sizes:

When the bathing suit retailer says 37" bust sizes should purchase a size 10, remember they're assuming a bigger rib cage (and not a 32" rib cage) and stick with the size 6 instead.

When the shirt retailer says 37" bust sizes should purchase a large shirt, listen to them.

The bathing suit will stretch over the breasts and look sexy. The shirt might stretch, but sexy?

Not so much.

Aha! It's from Bob and Lil! Whoo!

Thank you card coming up!