Well this day certainly hasn’t turned out as planned. Woke up in the morning, feeling like P Diddy, without power, and literally snowed in at the house in Sisters, Oregon. Or I guess my car was snowed in. At first I figured the 5 inches of snow wouldn’t be a big deal but as I attempted to hit the open road my car got stuck before it had even left the driveway. The fact that the snow was deeper than the lowest point of my car didn’t really help the situation. After spending 30 minutes digging out the car and returning it to the garage I had built up quite the appetite. I opted for a cup of drip coffee and a peach Activia Yogurt that expired on January 29 because it was the only thing left in the house that was edible. That is, aside from a single slice of salami and some month old grapes that at this point could have qualified as raisins. As I impatiently waited for the snowplow man to make a visit to South Redwood Street, I figured I should seize the day and channel my emotions into a blog. I mean Jack Kerouac would have killed to be in this situation. Home that resembles a cabin in that it is made mainly of wood and is covered in black bear and moose decorations? No electricity? Far away from the lights of the city? Snowed in? His only complaint may have been the fact that the only alcoholic beverage in the house was a half bottle of cherry Nyquil.
Randomly, or as Jess Miller would correct me and insert the word IRONICLY, my friend Robbie just happened to be hanging out in the Sisters area for the morning and offered to pick me up and go grab some coffee. After a short jog to his car that was on road that was actually plowed, I got to spend a delightful half hour at the Sister’s Coffee House catching up on life. It was a nice distraction from the ever looming question of “HOW THE HELL AM I GONNA GET HOME AND HOW WILL MACY’S SURVIVE IF I’M NOT ABLE TO MAN THE ACCESSORIES COUNTER TOMMORROW??” Robbie had just driven me back to my development when I spotted it. The answer to all of my problems. THE SNOW PLOW. Running as fast as my little legs could carry me I approached the man in the plow and between large gasps of air and asthmatic wheezes I was able to somehow articulate that I needed his help. He said it was no problem and began work immediately. Then came of the challenge of getting my car out of the garage. Seeing as the power was out I had to do the whole damn thing manually and of course the garage door behind my car was jammed and not opening which left me with the other door as the only exit. I don’t know if any of you have ever tried maneuvering a car around in a two-door garage with a divider in the center but let me tell ya, IT AIN’T EASY. I basically had to rearrange the entire garage to allow for my ninja like maneuvers and after several minutes of multiple crazy moves and even more really really loud exclamations of four letter words I was free and homeward bound.
To put it lightly, the past 48 hours have been a whole lotta crazy. First off, as many of you know I sold Burt. I hated to do it but all good things must come to an end and at 130,000 miles he was having trouble keeping up with my fast paced A-List lifestyle. I put up a Craigslist ad and within a few hours a man named Mike had called and said he wanted to have a look at Burt. Now I had never sold anything online before and I had some reservations about meeting with a complete stranger so I told him to meet me near the duck pond at Pioneer Park. I figured someone would see or hear my screams if he did in fact turn out to be the next Craigslist killer. I called Mama Sesser to notify her as to my whereabouts and assured her that if I ended up missing that she should dredge the pond for my body but not to plan for an open casket funeral. As a precaution, mama also decided to take on the roll of undercover cop by circling the perimeter of the park as Mike and I went on a test drive. At one point we drove past her but we played it cool and didn’t acknowledge each other’s existence. I didn’t want to blow her cover. Mike and his wife loved the car, and especially their Labradoodle who also came along for the ride. They made an offer and even threw in a bottle of wine so it was pretty hard to refuse. I will admit that I shed a few tears on my way to drop Burt off at his new home and it was slightly concerning how attached I had become to an inanimate object during our ten years together. And Burt, if you’re reading this, don’t you ever for a second get to thinking you’re replaceable.
Fairly soon after selling Burt, I located a car that I REALLY wanted. It was a blue Toyota Matrix located right outside of Monterey, California. My mom had talked to a salesman named Ray when we had first inquired about the car. Ray had also notified my mom that he would be gone for the weekend and said that he would pass our information off to Kent if we decided to come down on Sunday. When I called Friday a salesman named Sal answered and I asked to speak with Kent but Sal said that he could take care of the sale. BAD DECISION. He told me the car was available for us to check out so I booked flights for a little father son trip down to California. That’s when the poop hit the fan. Right as I stepped onto the Butts Acura (yep its really called BUTTS) parking lot I came face to face with Kent who wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me.
KENT: Are you the people from Washington?
KENT: I sold the car you wanted to my nephew.
Me: Really??? Because Sal told me yesterday it was still here and we just flew in…
Kent: I talked to your mom Cathy, and you had an appointment to meet with me on Friday and you didn’t show.
Me: That’s impossible, I never planned on being here on Friday.
At that point I was beyond irritated by Kent’s existence and I could sense the feeling was mutual so we simply started walking in opposite directions. Then I ran into Sandra who had to keep her sunglasses on while she talked to me because she had a super gross eye infection from a contact lens. I told her how Kent had informed me that the car sold. She told me there had been some miscommunication and the car was still mine if I wanted it. The only problem was they had no idea where the car was located. You see my new BFF KENT had lent it to his nephew to “try out” for a few days (AKA he was trying to take the sale away from SAL). They had been calling the nephew but he wasn’t answering their calls. I assumed this was because he was halfway across the Mexican border as we spoke or possibly being filmed from a helicopter on a high speed freeway chase that I would see the next time I tuned into COPS. All this I kept that to myself. Sandra apologized profusely and recommended a motel for us to stay at. Said it was called The Lone Oak Motel and that it was really nice place. We went to check out the motel and I kid you not it looked like the motel from the movie "Joy Ride" where everybody almost dies from the crazed trucker killer in the end. I told Dad that no way in hell was I staying there. Luckily there was a Quality Inn just down road. Unluckily, we came to the realization at 11 o’ clock that night that it was located a block away from the Monterey Airports runway.
Later that afternoon I got a phone call. It was from Mr. Butts himself. He must have apologized for a few minutes before I could even get a word in edgewise. He claimed that something like this had never happened in the history of his 150 year old business and that Butt’s Acura was the second oldest car dealership west of the Mississippi. I wasn’t really surprised. The building itself looked practically pre-civil war and was in need of a serious makeover. I’ve never seen a grown man grovel, but Mr. Butts was on his knees (figuratively, I couldn’t actually see him) begging for forgiveness. He also said they had located the vehicle, whether or not it was in Mexico was never confirmed, and that it was mine if I still wanted it. Being the bigger man I accepted his apology and went in the next morning to pick up the car. I was still feeling a little bit annoyed with the way Kent had acted and for his sake I’m glad we didn’t run into each other again. In preparation I had done 14.5 girl pushups in the hotel room that morning and I was ready to BRING IT ON if he so much as looked at me.
Through all the drama, I ended up getting the car and I am now a proud own of a metallic blue, Toyota Matrix. It’s so hot. Or I should say SHE’S so hot. I named her Lo. And yes, it is in reference to Lauren Condrad’s BFF Lo Bosworth of The Hills and Laguna Beach fame and bestselling author of “The Lo Down”. I picked the name for several reasons. Firstly, to say I LOVE The Hills would be a huge understatement. Secondly, she’s a California Girl. Thirdly, on the drive back to Washington I may have listened to the show’s theme song “Unwritten” on repeat for more miles than I care to admit. Fourthly, just like Lo on the show, my Lo knows how to create her own bit of drama, even if it was on a used car lot. And lastly, I’ve found myself really identifying with Lauren Conrad these days. More so Season 5 Lauren. You see, just like Lauren I’m entering a transitioning period of life. Just like Lauren had to move on from her treasured memories on The Hills, I too will always cherish my memories with Burt. But I’m ready for some new adventures wherever they await. Be it as an aspiring career as a reality television star? A new home? A new relationship? As they say, the rest is still unwritten.