A Stressed Bride’s New Chariot Bites the Dust

September 20, 2010 at 9:23 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 12 Comments
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I got a super fly new car last week.  I’m talkin’ Bluetooth, iPod docking station, steering wheel controls, intelligent key (which means it never leaves my purse – not to unlock doors, open the trunk, start the car, etc), a sleek spoiler and sporty alloy wheels.  I fell for it immediately.  I couldn’t stop caressing it; I had a bad case of verbal diarrhea; I volunteered to drive everywhere; I was, in a word, obsessed.

Until yesterday, when my car crush turned to pure, unadulterated rage.

The future-hubs and I were in CT for fasting-tastic Yom Kippur.  We planned to head back to Beantown around 10:30 a.m. to tackle some of the innumerable tasks on our wedding to do list, go grocery shopping (shameful admission: we haven’t been to the store in nearly a month), do homework and chores, etc.  The only problem?  My new chariot wouldn’t start.  My BRAND NEW, less-than-five-days-old, hadn’t-even-been-named car was dead.  Deceased.  Pushing up daisies.  It bought the farm.  It kicked the bucket.  It… well, you get the idea. I had a dead chariot on my hands (and in my parents’ driveway).

Andrew and I went through the manual to troubleshoot, to no avail.  I called AAA, which determined it could do nothing to help (though the gentleman who gave us said sad news, Luis, was very compassionate about it – thanks, Luis, for breaking it to me gently).  I called the dealership, I called Nissan Roadside Assistance, I called every affiliated service provider I could think of.  I had a breakdown.  I had another breakdown.  I worried my parents with my irrational and erratic behavior.  I required numerous reassurances and soothing words from Andrew.  I lost my wits.  Again.  I lamented turning in Blue Steel.  I felt sorry for myself.  And hours later (literally hours), I finally got the dealership to agree to tow it on their dime back to Massachusetts, to (eventually) provide me with a courtesy vehicle (though not in time to make it to work today) and fix my brand-spankin’-new car.

But that still left us love birds stuck in the Nutmeg State… what were a stressed bride-to-be and a busy-full-time-worker-plus-part-time-MBA-student to do?

Turn to my everyday heroes, of course.  I’d like to give a shout-out to our Knight in Shining Audi, “Rhymes-With-Father-of-the-Bride,” who graciously hauled Andrew, my sorry butt, and all our baggage (physical and emotional) back to Chez Gerrowski last night, then immediately turned around and drove the two hours (if you’re obeying the speed limit) straight back to CT.  Pops sure came through when it counted – as always!  What a guy!  And to “Sarah’s Mo,” who took a break from saving the world to handle the tow trucker while I was dissolved in a puddle of pity party en route back to Boston.

And as for my car?  Well, this gal has far too much to do to be without a faithful steed – so they’d best be fixin’ her up real pretty and real fast!  Or I may not be able to control my inner ‘zilla!

~Sarah

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Jealous of Sardines

July 7, 2010 at 7:58 am | Posted in Around Boston | 4 Comments
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It has been a while since I complained about discussed my commute with you, dear reader(s), and I’m sorry to have deprived you for so long! Let me rectify this situation immediately and regale you with heroic tales from yesterday evening’s commute.

You see, I now take a variety of different routes to get to work: when I’m feeling adventurous about traffic on 93, I drive to Medford and take the orange line from Wellington to Chinatown; when I miss my bloggier half, I take the commuter rail and hoof it from North Station; and when I don’t feel like paying extra for parking I occasionally venture to Davis Square and take the red line to Charles. Yesterday I decided on the third option since a) I had no cash for parking, b) I had no patience for traffic, and c) the red line is my favorite subway route (when forced, under duress, to choose one).

Bad idea. Here’s how my evening played out…

I was hotter than this guy!

5:34-ish: I left my office, trudged (or should I say swam?!?) through 100+ degree temperatures and disgusting levels of humidity, and arrived at the T-station a hot mess.

5:42-ish: A train pulled up, opened and closed its doors, and left me standing on the platform. There were too many people on it already to fit any other weary commuters.

5:48-ish: Happened again. 

5:54-ish: Vowed I would squeeze on the next train no matter what. And I did, only to find the train had no air-conditioning. Do sardines sweat? Because if not, then I had it worse, hands-down! Everyone on the train reeked! Seriously – every passenger crammed into that little tin can was B.O.-tastic, yours truly included!

6:07-ish: Train abruptly halted between Kendall and Central… Sweat began to pool at everyone’s feet.

6:22-ish: Train finally arrived at Central Square station where we proceeded to continue going nowhere slowly. At least the conductor opened the doors while we sat there – I’ve never welcomed the stench of Central more…even eau de rubbish is preferable to the noxious odor we passengers created in the closed car.

6:31-ish: Train conductor became as grouchy as we were. Actually yelled “We’re leaving – get on!” over the speaker. Everyone on the car “laughed” (it was the closest thing we could muster to a laugh at that point.)

6:32-ish-7:14-ish: Train continued to slowly make its way through the next three stops. Hallucinations began. Fiji looks surprisingly like the MBTA tunnel system if you add a few palm trees, though the pools of sweat aren’t nearly as lovely as the limpid blue water in the island’s brochure.

7:19-ish: Arrived at my car in Davis Square only to find a new scratch on the passenger side door. Poor Blue Steel. It seems neither of us made it through the day without battle scars. 

7:21-ish: Got stuck in traffic trying to make my way to 93. Decided to sing the commuting blues away. Might be responsible for Medford-area wildlife’s loss of hearing. Oops. 

7:55-exactly: Pulled into my driveway. There’s no place like home!

I sure learned my lesson from that commute… I’m just too hot to remember it! Any ideas?

~Sarah

Bizarro World‏

May 19, 2010 at 7:53 am | Posted in Around Boston, Married Life | 8 Comments
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Some days I wonder what the universe is up to… Sleeping on the job? Playing practical jokes? Completing a double-dog dare? Just not paying enough attention?   

I’m sure you have these days, too. Not the kind where one weird thing happens; the kind where enough bizarre things go down that you can’t help but wonder if you’re on the universe’s Candid Camera. Nothing horrible or tragic (thankfully), just a few things that, as C + C Music Factory says, “make you go hmmm.” Case in point? I’m fairly certain the universe was punking me yesterday. For example, I received two pieces of mail that were both a little “off.”   

Am I marrying a stranger? Who is Andrew Rottensteiner??

The first was a lease renewal for our apartment (what we affectionately call Chez Gerrowski). Other than a rental increase that we don’t wish to discuss (but we will say: oy!), the letter was fairly standard, except for my fiancé’s name. We’ve been together for nearly six years and all this time I have, apparently, had his name wrong. The “L-ski” we know and adore, according to our apartment complex, is really named “Andrew Rottensteiner.” Yeah. Rottensteiner. Could I become Sarah Rottensteiner? No. No, I don’t think I could. The silver lining here (you knew I would do my best to find one) is that I’m hoping they will bill all future monthly rent payments to Mr. Rottensteiner, and leave the real Andrew and I in peace. While we’re at it, let’s put good ol’ Rottie’s name on our electric, gas, phone, television and internet bills, too! Not to mention car payments…   

Which brings me to bizarro mail exhibit #2: the monthly bill from Honda for my faithful “Blue Steel.” On this month’s statement, Honda included a cute little parenting suggestion it felt I could put to use: namely, that I should spoil my soon-to-be college coed! Here’s the bill…   

Parents: Get your college-bound kids a Honda Scooter today! Riiight...

When I leased my car I had to give Honda all sorts of info about myself and I’m sure they know that I’m far too young to have a college-aged kid. Heck, after the application, background/credit check, they may know more about my life than I do. So…   

I will try to do the right thing here: Honda, since you know every intimate fact and detail about my life, if this soon-to-be undergrad does exist, go ahead and have said child get in touch with his/her dear ol’ mama! I’m nothing if not nurturing…   

~ Sarah (aka “mom” and the future Mrs. Rottensteiner??)

Slippery When Inappropriately Attired!

February 22, 2010 at 9:51 am | Posted in Around Boston | 7 Comments
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Recently I went to my local Rhymes-With-Pithy-Rube to get an oil change for my faithful stead, Blue Steel. As I waited in the customer “lounge,” I noticed something a little, ummm, off, and as part of our never-ending quest to bring you, dear reader(s), all the quirkiest stuff we find, I would like to submit this sign for your review:

Apparently in jeans and a sweatshirt I was completely over-dressed for an oil change waiting area. No one informed me that the proper dress code (at least the proper dress code for slipping on a wet floor) consisted of tighty-whities… and only tighty-whities. Or, I suppose we could interpret the depiction another way: perhaps the desired garb is some sort of superhero costume with undies over a bodysuit…?

Either way, I was not in the proper attire. As usual.

~Sarah

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