Monday, June 8, 2009

as excited as a very excited person who has something to be exceptionally excited about

Let it never be said that I can't take a joke. This past week (or two?) felt a bit like a joke to me and dammit I made it through!

The day after we arrived home from our whirlwind trip to Cowtown (that's Calgary for all you non Canucks), was my 30th birthday. Yes yes, I can hear you all out there. "Ohh she's still just a baby". "Such a young 'un". Fooey to you. I feel like I'm 50 most days, so bite me. Anyhooooo, it was my 30th birthday and I was all geared up to go and have drinky-poos with my girlfriends when silly me, I took the hair elastic out of my hair and my dull throb of a headache turned into a full blown migraine. Raincheck on those drinks then girls?

The next four nights were taken up with work (read: watching movies and playing on the net all night for money) and by the time the next Tuesday rolled around and Hotty Hubby and I were planning on heading out for some alone time to celebrate our 7th wedding anniversary, all hell had broken loose in our lives and there was nothing doing. So let's see.....Birthday? Scratch. Anniversary? Scratch.


By hell, I mean my car. My poor little, new-ish, piece of freakin' crap car. Argh.

Two and a half years ago, Hotty Hubby and I had ourselves an old Buick. Built like a tank, it was fantastic to drive because I knew that unless I hit an 18 wheeler, I was likely to come off better in just about any accident. Thankfully I never tested that theory, but the knowledge was there in the back of my head with all the other semi useful information like the size of an elephant's penis (up to six and a half feet long in case you care. And I'm sure you do). But this car was starting to fall apart. The axle was ready to come off the bottom of the car, the fan wasn't working, blah blah blah (mommy wanted a new car). So we went shopping. Neither of us had a very great credit rating so we ended up at place here in town who advertises themselves with something along the lines of "good credit, bad credit, no credit.....we've got a car for YOU!". You can just picture Uncle Sam from the old Army ads in your head while they say it.

We looked around the car yard, I saw minivans and he saw compacts. We finally settled on a lovely Ford Focus station wagon. "Oh sorry, we can't finance that one" Fine. Bastards. Somehow we found ourselves talked into a wee little Kia Rio RX-V station wagon. Nice enough car at first glance. Test drove pretty well. Looked like it had enough room in it for our little family of 4.


I swear that fitting a family into this car, keeping in mind that two of the family are children under 5 feet tall, is rather like trying to wrestle into a clown car. With adults in the front who are 5 foot 10 and 6 foot 4, this means the front seats must be pushed relatively far back. This leaves very very little room in the backseat...for children. Don't even TRY and get an adult back there. Horrendously uncomfortable! That aside, it's served us fairly well and it's gotten us around.

This past Tuesday however, I took it to a rather large store here in town to investigate a metallic scraping sound in the wheel well that I presumed was being caused by brakes that were ready to be replaced. I was right. I also needed them to UNlock my doors and fix my power locks that the spawn had so joyously broken for me.

2 new front brakepads, adjustment in back, fluid flush and lock fix? $529

The next day I took it for a general service at a different place and found that the first place is lame, ass sucking lame-o's for NOT noticing a rather vital (I think) thing wrong with the underside of my car. Those lovely sway bars that keep your wheels stable and moving together? Yeah....ready to FALL OFF the bottom of the damn car. Assholes.

Service, sway bars and air filter? $307


I've meandered through the rest of the week just generally trying to get by. Working, sleeping, coping with the insane heat that we've had here for June in Victoria, and hanging with the kids. Checking Hubby's email daily for any news on the visas and sending emails to the case officer in charge of his file in the hopes that she'd take pity and give us news....any news. Nothing.

As I headed out this morning, I checked again and nothing. I tried not to let it damper my day. I mean, it's only been over 5 months right? And she did say one to three months. What's an extra 2? I enjoyed a caffeinated beverage with my favourite gal pal, hung out with the boy spawn and even did a little bit of shopping.

When I arrived home, I dejectedly sat down and checked the email one last time.


Oh. My. Gawd. There's an email saying he's been approved for the visas. Approved people!!! That means we can go!

Hopelessly and relentlessly checking your email and putting up with all the crap of cars and weather without any wine to drown your sorrows, only to find an approval email in your inbox when you were beginning to lose all hope of ever escaping to the Land of the Long White Cloud?


Now. I just need to rustle up the almost $500 for the "migrant levy" and send their passports away. Looks like we'll be heading down south for the end of July. WOO!

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