Get it in Gear

This morning I had the misfortune of having to take my car into the shop due to it having recently decided that reverse is no longer in its vernacular. Apparently drive must also be under consideration for the heave-ho pile because yesterday found me jammed in front of the neighbor's garage desperately trying to escape. Funnnnnn times over here, people.

Having grown up on a farm I consider myself well-versed in phrases like, 'DAD WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH MY CAR??!?!?!'. I'm sure you city dwellers feel much the same about your situations, if you have a dad (or a mom) who understand things about flushing the transmission and so on and so forth. All I have to say is between my dad and google I was able to go in at least semi-prepared (read: not a total deer in headlights) and feel as though they could not take advantage of me. It sucks to have to distrust the car people, but they brought it on themselves.

I was also sure to arrive looking somewhat tattered, like I mean business but without a suit. Picked up off the closet floor from yesterday-chic, if you really must know. Why mess with a good thing? Another lady in there gave me a nod when I walked by. She was wearing a military jacket and a sleek ponytail. I see ya lady, I see ya. Never let 'em see you sweat!!

~Beanie (old)-Wooden Ships, Sweater-J.Crew (alternate color here), Denim-Current/Elliott, 

Belt-Old Stud Handmade, Bag-TKBags, Boots-NDC Made by Hand (here in black)~

Case in point as to why one should never look a good closet dive in the mouth.

REBIRTH
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Oh and ps--I'm going to see the new Twilight tonight. FOURTEEN YEAR OLD STYLE!

There's A New Kid In Town

A couple weeks ago I was driving down my street one night when I spotted the sickest lowrider parked up the block. Glancing in my rearview to make sure no one was behind me I screeched to a halt, took a quick look around and hopped out to examine it. Glossy white and resting just above the ground, this meant only one thing: hydraulics. Now I'm no car aficionado, but I am kind of a 90's rap buff *hangs head in bewilderment* so I snapped a quick pic before jumping in my car and going inside.

I've always wanted a ride in one of those things. Bouncing cars are the jam!

It must have been a few days later when I went downstairs to grab the mail, opened the door and came face to face with this business:

Uh hello! It lives on my street?!  Operation Meet The Neighbor in full effect, I ran back upstairs screaming to Chris, 'LOWRIDER AT 12 O'CLOCK. I'M GETTING A RIDE IN THAT THING!!'

Chris: 'Go out there and tell him we think his car is cool. He's going to think it's cool that someone on this street doesn't mind when he starts that thing up and sets off all the alarms and carbon monoxide detectors.' Me: 'What if he thinks I'm a crazy old lady?! I can't do it. YOU DO IT.'  That didn't happen.

Every once in awhile I see the kid in the street. And I know he sees me staring at the car because it's right out my office window and let's just say I'm not shy about gawking out there. In fact we were in the street at the same time once when I was looking after the neighborhood stray cat and he was polishing the car...but I was more concerned about the PITBULL OFF THE LEASH AT HIS SIDE that day.

Maybe this wasn't going to work after all?

This past Friday I went to a local restaurant/bar that just opened by my house. It's a little upscale, great food and a pretty decent cocktail menu, too. The place was jammed so we found a spot at the bar and ordered instead of waiting for a table. Two guys pulled in next to me and my friend and, after they'd had a few more drinks, one started talking to us. Throughout the night, he got all up in her business. Not in a hitting on her kind of way, but like a nosy kind of way.

The next thing I knew he was eating off our dessert plate. Uh, what the hell? I guess I'm done then...

Before long, he starts asking me how long I've lived in the neighborhood. I tell him about 10 years and, in an act of what I'm guessing must have been neighborhood knowledge superiority, he begins ID'ing everyone around the circular bar area providing way more information than anyone needs to know. I'm talking name and history of about 90% of a place that was pretty packed with people. Can you say uncomfortable? Throughout the evening I met a bunch of people who, I come to find out, have lived around me for quite awhile. But I didn't feel good about everybody knowing everybody, many of them badmouthing each other as soon as the other's back was turned. It was stomach turning and by the end of the night I couldn't get away fast enough.

Growing up in a small town, there are some things I miss and most others I am very glad to have left behind. Gossip definitely falls in the latter category. I've realized I don't really want to be known by anyone in my neighborhood. As soon as you become familiar with people in any smaller area (even within a larger city), you become fair game for exactly what I experienced on Friday night. Not my bag, not my bag at all.

So, with that in mind, I've decided to enjoy the lowrider from afar. I'll say hi in the street, give a friendly nod of the head but that's it. If the kid offers to take us for a ride in a pitbull-free car I'll go (with glee!),  but there will be no barbecues or sharing of information. And actually, that's kind of just sad. That you have to be this careful about what you share with others. Sad but unfortunately true that adulthood has proven to be a grown-up version of childhood.

With the Wind at My Back and a Picket Sign in My Face

Last week I landed a pair of Vanessa Mooney's aztec moccasins at a sample sale and be damned if almost all my dreams nearly did come true.

Six months of internet searches where I jumped around from one foot to the next until 

they were all sold out culminated in a magnificent reunion.

I hugged them, I leapt in the air, I made a special space for them in my closet.

Yesterday I dressed up like somebody's mom and took them on their maiden voyage for a lunch date.

Overcome with glee I busted out some sort of homage to Danielsan--the one, the only, Karate Kid.

It was a moment.

But the best was yet to come.

This morning I got up, clicked my friggin heels together and prepared to go pick up the last size 6 in the bootie style. It's like the aztec moccasin fairies have been all up in my business this week. Bless them.

On my way out of town I noticed a significant amount of police activity. As in about 20 motorbike ones, 2 of those big vans, several police cars...and a chopper? Good thing I'm getting out of here, I thought to myself. 

Well hold that thought, Carrie. As I got into downtown LA many of the streets were blocked off.  Thinking it was construction, I maneuvered available one ways until I began to notice row upon row of police bikes lining the sidewalks for blocks. And I mean BLOCKS. LAPD is that big? It became apparent, once I turned down the ABBA Dancing Queen disco party in my car, that I was in the middle of an epic sh*tstorm of some sort.  Choppers everywhere, so close their sound was thundering in my chest.  Documentarians with cameras and those dustmop microphones strewn all over the streets. Police, more police, and food trucks? What? 

Don't these people know I need my shoes? They're the last pair!!

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I caught a SEA OF PICKETERS headed my way.  Screeching into the nearest parking lot I bolted out of my car as a nice parking attendant hollered, 'Where you headed lady? It's not so safe for you down here right now.  I charge you two dollar and you hurry back or you might not be able to get out. Why these people do this? It's not like the government is going to change immigration policy anyway..." as I rounded the corner and wound up marching amongst those picketers in the greatest irony of all.  I'm an immigrant almost through the Naturalization process--something these people so desperately want for themselves--to belong, to make this country their legal home.

You know sometimes you set out to do one thing and, even though that thing (that you love and are so grateful to have) may get accomplished, you end up encountering something else that gives you a fresh perspective. I daresay the right perspective, at least for me.

It was a helluva day. 

And the shoes? I made it to them safely and wish I would have hung around to observe a bit more. I think today was an important day for me somehow.  As far as the shoes go, someday I'll tell them about the time I got swept up in an immigration protest, just to bring them home.