This morning I could see Dolly glaring at me from the curb where her broken body is parked. She watched me climb into my new truck, and I swear a little steam came out from under her hood. I feel so awful for betraying my Mazda, but she and I are going to be separated any day now when they come and haul her off. We both need to move on. It's not easy for either of us.
Speaking of things that are not easy, naming the new truck hasn't been a walk in the park (or an offroad race through the Grand Canyon if you believe the Tundra commercials). I've wrestled with the decision of what to call my truck for almost four days. I would name him after The Rock, but, unfortunately, The Rock's real name is Dwayne, and my truck is SO not a Dwayne. I thought about calling him My Gorgeous Hunk of Gleaming Natural White Beauty, but I worry that people will say I have an inappropriate relationship with my truck if I call him that. (I will admit to looking out the window of my bedroom every few minutes to gaze upon him in the driveway, but it's more like pride than lust.)
I still need to get Pony's opinion on my truck's name after work today, but I think I've decided on Sven. The reason I need final approval from Pony is that he is the first person who ever took the time to explain car engines to me. (It's a 4x2 Regular Cab 5-speed automatic. V6. 236 horsepower.)
I will definitely post some pictures of Sven The Big White Truck. I need the sun to be shining on his strong body at just the right angle so you can see all of his striking contours. I would really like to see if he and I could get an appointment at Glamour Shots or Olan Mills (Hop In for Easter Portraits!). For my beautiful lifetime memory photographic portrait of Sven, I'd like something tasteful but sexy - maybe a blurred edge oval portrait of Sven wearing nothing but a bowtie. Maybe I'll get a Sven collage or a photo of me with my arm around him in front of a heart background.
On Saturday, right after I bought the big white truck, I drove to the store and bought a big white blender. (I imagine my Nebraska housewife hits are going to double today. Everyone who googles for toaster ovens already gets referred here, poor souls. Now that I'm throwing a blender into the mix (no pun intended) I'll probably get blog visits from every potential kitchen appliance shopper in the midwest. (This is a shout out to all my peeps in Blue Springs, Missouri. Holla!)
Back to Oscar the Osterizer (just came up with that one). I have never had a blender of my very own before, so it was pretty exciting for me to acquire such a domestic item. I am impressed that my blender has 10 speeds: puree, frappe, crush, blend, mix, stir, swizzle, decimate, muddle, and a big red button labeled "Tsunami - Push at Your Own Risk" . Actually, I'm not sure if those are the actual speeds. I haven't read the manual yet, because I still have to read Sven's manual.
Eventually, I hope to introduce Sven and Oscar to one another. But I don't need them jealously vying for their new daddy's attention right now. I love them each in their own way. Sven is hot and Oscar is cute. But they both have a place in my heart. Maybe in the spring I will take Oscar for a ride in Sven. Yes, of course I know to disengage the passenger side airbag. What kind of idiot do you take me for?
You might ask, "Hot Toddy, are you crazy? Two major purchases on a single Saturday?!" I know it seems rash, but it was time for me to have both a truck and a blender, and, like Sophie, I could not choose.
Now let's play a game.
Here is the answer:
I bought a white truck and a 10-speed blender on the same day.
What is the question?