Baxter and blizzards.

I drive a sports car.

Well, to me. Pontiac Bonnevilles are a rare breed.

He's dying. (His name is Baxter, not that anyone cares, you heartless readers of death.)

Baxter was found with metal shavings in his oil while the mechanics were changing it. For those of you who aren't mechanically minded like myself (since four hours ago when the men at the shop explained it to me with simple words and pictures of flashy things), that usually means there are problems in the engine. It's costly. The conversation with the emotionless man behind the counter went as follows-

:drops metal shavings in front of me: "Look at this."

(Me) "That's nice. Where'd you get these?"

"Well, we found them in the oil. That's a problem."

"What kind of a problem? What should I get fixed?"

"Probably no use trying. Might want to start looking for a new ride."

:insert GASP OF HORROR:

"I'm sorry? You realize this is a Pontiac Bonneville we're talking about here?"

I could tell he realized....caring, now that was what was missing. This car was my first, I have great memories in that car. We've done 123,000 miles together! This Scrooge McMechanic just ruined my holiday!

"Do you want to keep the shavings?"

Did he really just ask that? Why yes, sounds great! Maybe I'll put hooks on them and wear them as earrings to remind myself that I LOST THE ONLY MALE THING I'VE MADE A COMMITMENT TO SINCE THE 90'S the day before the world ended in 2012.

Sometimes, we just have to let things go. Meaningful things, people, circumstances. Things we tie our identities to, things we love, things we want to have in our lives, in order to keep ourselves on the right "road." (You see what I did there?) It's not always easy, but it's worth it in the end. ----She types as she scrolls through PT Cruisers and Ford Focuses on Autotrader.com.----

On to other things.

It's a blizzard out there.

Also, I have road rage.

I'm one of those people who lose their Christian testimony simply by getting behind the steering wheel. I am the white-knuckled maniac who is yelling at people around them during a casual Sunday drive, and when I notice someone staring act like I was just lip-syncing to some death metal. I'm not a fan of hand gestures, but I am a fan of glares. Awkward, angry glares. And sometimes shaking my finger at a driver like a schoolteacher with a troubled kindergartner. It gives me a real high.

I 'bout lost my business tonight. People in Illinois act like they've never driven in Illinois weather when it begins to snow. Three miles an hour becomes the new craze, and before you know it you've counted eighteen Mustangs in the ditch on the way home and the soccer mom in front of you is fish-tailing so much her hazard lights are starting to look like a disco ball.

I should've stayed in Bloomington at a friend's house, or pulled over when it became a white-out. But you see, Downton Abbey, my pajamas, and some dark chocolates were at home waiting for me, and I sacrificed the smart thing for the thought of future comfort.

I hate that spiritual applications come into my mind at times like these. My mom used to do it as a child, and no sticking your head underwater or pretending to ignore her made her stop saying, "Kids, I feel like there's somethin' from Jesus in this here situation!" As I was driving home, I thought to myself, "How many times do I not do what I know is the right thing because I want to be comfortable? Because I'm selfish? Because I'm stubborn." Who knows what I missed out on by not doing what I knew was the smartest decision.

A wise thought, when overlooked, is only a thought.....and thoughts are not what changes the world.

Yes, dear friends, Kendra gets philosophical when the textbooks are taken away and she's left to her own devices. She also speaks in third person. She also finds chocolate wrappers sitting next to her laptop that someone must've placed there.....enjoy your weekend. :)