Truckin' with Mom...

Mom and I had some errands to run yesterday. Just one issue: The a/c in her car went out big time. My stepdad, aka Mister, had a solution, though. We could use his truck. The air conditioner in the truck is like an Arctic blast - surely that would satisfy us.

It has not been washed, save by the rain, since Mister bought it. Why? Because it is a truck, he says, and they are not supposed to be washed. It. Is. A. Truck. Mom had to strongarm him into getting some repair work done to it - - including an alignment job. The time Didgeridoo Boy and I borrowed the truck, we were so thoroughly frightened by how it veered off to the right of its own volition that we vowed to never, ever set foot in it again.

Mom found our ride amusing. She said she felt like she should wag her hand like that while driving. And you are right in what you're probably assuming: We're delightfully out of place in the truck. It's full of things like tarps and bungee thingies for holding the stuff Mister is sometimes prone to haul in the back, and it smells downright funky. Our purses were even more out of place than we were:

Mom's cute little Vera Bradley, and my vintage Lancel.

Here is a crack in the windshield. It's like a badge of honor.

BUT - - it does have a vanity mirror.

I just *had* to point that out.

Enjoy your weekend! I'm going to be catching up on laundry while taking a much-needed break from painting and maintenance calls. There's a slight possibility I will go outside and roll around on the ground in celebration of the lovely hit of fall weather that's finally reached us.