TheBanyanTree: Holding on for Dear Life

[Margaret R. Kramer]

As I solve one problem and feel good about it going away, then another
problem seems to crop up, and the worry wart in me gets all excited and goes
into high gear again.

We eliminated a lot of worries on Groundhog Saturday.  First, we did find a
vehicle.  The owner actually answered the phone and we got to directions to
Edina, a posh suburb of Minneapolis.

A quick way to get there from our neighborhood is by what we call the
Crosstown, a sneaky highway the cuts across the southern part of
Minneapolis, eventually hooking up with 35W (remember the bridge collapse?
Although this is way south of that) and 694, which is a big circle around
the Twin Cities and is 494, too, depending on where you’re at on the circle.

Well, I call the Crosstown the Freeway of Death, because I knew people who
were killed on it.  It’s horrible, terrible freeway with no sense or reason
and everyone is flying on it like they’re in a race.  You have to be in
certain lanes to go certain directions and only a few people on this planet
know what they are.  It’s been torn up and is under construction, so half
the exit ramps are closed.  It’s very scary.

We were going to try to avoid the Crosstown, but after meandering through
Minneapolis for a while, we had to take it to find the vehicle.  We got on
it and I started screaming and I didn’t stop screaming until we got off on
the correct exit and found the owner’s home.  I couldn’t believe that I
cheated the Freeway of Death out of Ray’s and my lives.

We liked the vehicle right away.  There were flowers painted on it.  That
reminded me of my hippy days.  Just give me a joint, and I’ll be good to go!
The owner said his wife painted them to cover up the rest spots.  The van
was as clean as a whistle.  It was good to drive.  However, the idle needs
to be set higher, as the engine killed when it stopped until it warmed up.
And there’s an interesting noise coming from beneath the vehicle, which to
me, indicates the tranny is slipping a bit.  But we’ll see.  I don’t expect
perfection from a $650 auto.

The good things are that everything works.  It has a new battery,
alternator, fuel pump, and a recent oil change.  The tires look new.  It
drove smoothly and the owner wasn’t afraid to drive it either.  That’s a
good sign.

We transferred the title and gave the man the cash and Ray drove it home.
We skipped the Freeway of Death this time, one harrowing ride was enough,
and found our way home using 494.

One problem solved.

The other problem solved was money.  Oh, I love money!  I spent a good chunk
of the afternoon balancing our checking account and stacking up the bills
and writing checks and paying other bills online.  Yeah, baby.  We’re caught
up with everything.  We have lots of dollars in the bank again even after
paying bills.  And the Christmas expenditures are becoming a distant and
less painful memory.

The touchy problem remaining is that Ray’s digestive system is a mess again.
First, he was constipated.  Then he took a laxative and all hell broke
loose.  He can’t button his pants, because he’s bloated from gas.  He hasn’t
curled up into a little ball this time and he seems engaged with life, but I
worry.  He’s been making an effort to drink fluids and eat easy to digest
foods, but I don’t know.

Should I take him to urgent care?  The emergency room?  Make a doctor’s
appointment?  Will it go away on its own?  With myself, I know exactly the
moment I need to see a doctor about something and I also know when not to
worry and let my body take care of itself.  I’m not sure if Ray has the same
ability.

I know Ray’s been worried about the car and about money, too.  So, I’m sure
that’s part of the digestive upset.  Plus, he hasn’t been to work for a week
and a half, and he’s not used to being so inactive and that can play havoc
with his digestive system as well.

I’m sure the solution will come and I have to trust that it will and not
worry about it so much.  This problem will be solved, too.  And then another
problem will appear in its place.  And that’s what life is all about.  You
would think that after almost 53 years of life on this planet I would have
figured that out.  There is no nirvana.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net
margaret.kramer at polarispublications.com

www.polarispublications.com

My heart to you is given:
Oh, do give yours to me;
We'll lock them up together,
And throw away the key..
~Frederick Saunders
No virus found in this outgoing message.
Checked by AVG Free Edition.
Version: 7.5.516 / Virus Database: 269.19.18/1255 - Release Date: 02/01/2008
9:59 AM