Well, firstly, I must say that I never knew car-buying had so many perks. Several weeks have passed now since my experience, but I still remember...I suppose some things, you just can't forget. I went to my aunts' first. I went through the whole experience with them—you know, to make sure I wasn't talked into buying a whatsit or thingamabob that I didn't truly need. Like I know the usual set of whatsits or thingamabobs a car should have!

So anyway, I drive to their house first and I'm showered—just a-showered!—with gifts! They were your standard, run of the mill goodies for me, and goodies which my aunt, Debbie, knew would tickle me senseless—a fresh bundle of grapes and a grouping of brownish, freckled bananas. There was nothing holy about my accompanying moan.

But more still, a gift from Brenda. Brenda ordered a purse. She ordered just a single purse, and per the receipt, paid for just a single purse. Yet, she received two in the mail. Now, some people would say, "Oh, Heavens! I best send this right back to the company, the poor dears! I bet they don't even know! Tut, tut!" I, personally am of the mind that you need to have good quality control in your company and there's no better way to achieve that than error. That, and since Brenda wasn't sending the purse back, she was giving it to me. I deserve a purse I didn't pay for way more than the company who erroneously gave it away. Totally.



She bought the purse, the one she kept, because of the cell phone pouch in front...cute and practical, right? Right. So she tells me she's stuffed the bottom of the pouch with tissues to elevate the phone and making it easier to grab. I smile...that Brenda...

But, I found it disturbing that next week when I found myself folding paper towels to place at the bottom of my phone pouch to elevate my phone...the same model as my aunt's, incidentally. I noticed it more still as we went to my geneticist appointment together the following week, twin dorks with excellent style.

And, (have you noticed I really stretch the rule to the max when beginning sentences with conjunctions?) the next day, when I found myself entertained watching Nick's amusement with squirrel activity as she would have been with her cats', I knew at once I was her paralleled existence. I couldn't tell you which one of us that bothers more—both the statement, and the truth behind it.

It's perhaps a little-known fact that I hate winter...well, little-known if you're of the dim-witted sort. Let me say it plainly for you: I hate winter. I hate being cold. I hate the mucky mush on the sides of the roads. Because I am female and therefore altogether confusing and nonsensical: the first snow is one of the biggest thrills of my year.

It came yesterday, and it wasn't much of a thrill. I feel a little gypped. It reminded me more of that movie about global warming—The Day After Tomorrow? Hard, bruising rain through the morning, sky black as night...thunder that seemed to quake the office...wind that seemed to force the rain to fall horizontally...and then the snow fall there at the end...just in time for rush hour stupidity.

Yet, this morning, I look at this:



And my breath catches. The land is unsullied, pure and immaculate. This is God's artwork, an appreciation my mother embedded so deeply in my brother and, too, in myself. She would call me in the early evening hours to my bedroom. "Laur? Come and see!" My mother is the only person who's ever shortened my name. It sounds wrong on every other tongue. I would join her at my window, Westward-facing and luminous in twilight. We would be bathed in pinks, peaches and lavenders. The fiery glow painted our skin and transmitted warmth as we stood there and breathed it all in...and in the stillness she would say—and my brother would know what I'm going to say if he was a regular reader—"God paints us a pretty picture." Truly, stop and look. Life will seem richer. Life will be richer.

And with that, I remembered last year's first snowfall, amidst a broken marriage and a dying parent...a dying friend, and I remembered it with a smile. I remember staying with my Mother a lot after Miles left, how dually we leaned on each other, how many times we talked, how warm our conversations were, how silly and joyful they continued to be, truly exemplifying our Miss Mary Sunshine gene. You know, she might have given me the gene that left me missing parts and with extra organs...and, as I learned at Monday's CT Scan, a certain difficulty finding a veins...but she left me with a smile, an ability to see past the shadow and into the light.

I re-read her comment to my simplistic post this morning, and laughed aloud, worrying I would wake Nick. I burrowed into the sofa and enjoyed the view, still sipping my coffee as I did then, and felt inexplicably...happy.