THE BATTLE IS WON

Just returned from the Bread Wars. Am a little beat up and tired. The battle can be intense.

Every Wednesday I leave at 8:30 a.m. to go to Orowheat to pick up the free date expired bread for us poor people in "The Home." I like the volunteer task, and the added humor it brings to my day. Last fall I was down with fairly serious back problems and could not lift anything for 5-6 weeks. So Maria and Gail offered to help me and have stayed on. I could handle it alone, but they add to the fun. We also get it done faster.

I knew the minute we step outside they will both announce it is cold. Well, yes. 42 is cool. But I'm still just wearing a hoody and not shivering. It makes me smile. The next significant comment will be inside the van. It's cold in here. Of course it is. It sits in an unheated garage that is often colder than outside, but I never have to scrap windows. Duh! It is a foreign van and the heater works like I lived in the retirement capital of the world (Florida). It has no concept of the northwest and would be worse if I were back in Canada with it. We are always half way there before the car warms up (5.4 miles to the bread). After a few more comments about the cold which Maria will continue sharing, we move on to what is wrong with whoever. Someone has always offended Maria and is at fault for something. Why can't humans be perfect, like her. Gail and I talked around those comments about how fun it is watching our grand kids play soccer. They still love the game, are not crushed by losing, and cry rather than retaliate when an accident occurs. Hope that lasts a long time.

To stop the complains about how I park, I cut a very wide path this morning. That was a mistake. There was a substitute driver for the big white whale (4x4 extend-a-cab). I left plenty of room for him to back in. No, he did not take the space provided. He tried to squeeze between me and the bakery truck always parked at the next garage door over. He made it without scratching my van. If I were not in the van I might never notice anyway if it got scratched. Old van owned too long. I tend to keep vehicles until they are good and dead. Since I could never afford another car, hopefully this will last a very long time (it's already 12 years old). So, what did I have to do? The girls could not get out, so I had to move the car to the left, which I would not have had to do if he had parked in the space I left for him. There are unspoken rules you know. Get with the program.

When the garage door opened we notice that miss I-must-be-first-and-get-what-I-want before-you-get-in-the-door. already had a tray of Cinnabon raisin bread and tortillas shells. These are considered speciality items and we scroungers all highly value them. They are like finding where "X" marks the spot and the buried treasure. She had them all. So we attacked her under our breath and really blasted her went we were loaded and driving back to the home. We told her off with power and authority. Maybe some day we will do it to her face. There was plenty of bread and we got a little more than what we will really use. With five racks everyone will have plenty. BUT WE WANTED CINNABON!

My check engine light went on. I hate everything being computerized (I know, its the modern age). My car sounds fine. When something it wrong I want it to sound wrong so I am actually worried for a reason.. I don't want to take my vehicle in to be checked out and be told the light has come on and is stuck in the on position. I should stop second guessing what is wrong and just take it in. Even being checked out costs. I liked my old mechanic from 20 years ago.