Bye Subie

When I came into the kitchen this morning, mom was wearing a cute pink and white golf shirt. I told her how much I liked it. She told me I bought it for her. I said: "I have such good taste. I wonder where I got that from?" She said "From that golf store in Devon." I laughed so hard I cried. When she figured out the joke, she laughed but wasn't guffawing like me.

The sad thing about a good belly laugh is it makes me think how long it's been since I've laughed that hard, and instant sadness encroaches on my happiness. Isn't that like snatching defeat from the jaws of victory? Why enjoy today's happiness when you can mull over yesterday's (or tomorrow's) sorrow. I could never be buddhist.

So then I drove four hours to Johnstown, where I met poet Roberta Lynn at AAA. One and one-quarter hours later, I had completed the process of selling her my car. What a ridiculous amount of paperwork. Sheesh. My car really shone in the winters--getting up the hill to my house or up and down four hills between my house and Vanguard. The rest of the year it was a bit of a drag. My prior car was very zippy and I missed the light handling it offered versus the Subie's heaviness. But I loved my Subie in bad weather.