June 23: Oil Change, Car Repairs, "Web" Dip

I am once again in the position of needing expensive car repairs.  My auto is going to the dealership tomorrow morning for an oil change.  Every time I get an oil change, I discover that my car has some fatal ailment.  Bad brakes.  Bad struts.  Ball joints.  Whatever.  This time, I know for certain something expensive is headed my way.

For the last couple weeks, my brakes have been making some very unhealthy sounds.  Now, that's what I'm expecting.  I'm sure other problems will be diagnosed.  There always are.  I dread tomorrow because of the news I will receive, but it's out of my hands.  I can't do anything but wait and pray.  I'll be praying a lot tomorrow.

Thus, my question tonight for my Web dip:

Will the cost of my car repairs give me nightmares and insomnia?

And the answer from the pig and spider:

"He isn't dead," hollered Zuckerman.  "He's fainted.  He gets embarrassed easily.  Run for some water, Lurvy!"

Well, there you go.  Saint Marty's gonna faint like a pig tomorrow when he gets the news.

"It's gonna cost HOW MUCH?!!"

May 1: Ossenburger, Pot of Dough, Car Repairs

When I lived at Pencey, I lived in the Ossenburger Memorial Wing of the new dorms.  It was only for juniors and seniors.  I was a junior.  My roommate was a senior.  It was named after this guy Ossenburger that went to Pencey.  He made a pot of dough in the undertaking business after he got out of Pencey.  What he did, he started these undertaking parlors all over the country that you could get members of your family buried for about five bucks apiece.  You should see old Ossenburger.  He probably just shoves them in a sack and dumps them in the river.  Anyway, he gave Pencey a pile of dough, and they named our wing after him...

It's no big surprise that Holden thinks Ossenburger is a rich phony bastard.  That term can be applied to practically every adult Holden knows.  Ossenburger's brand of phony has to do with his money, his car, his religious convictions, and his memorial wing.  While Holden comes from a privileged background, he finds wealthy people (like Ossenburger)  inauthentic.  Morally and spiritually bankrupt.

You're probably wondering what I'm going to say about inauthentic, privileged, spiritually bankrupt wealthy people.  Well, I dropped my Ford Freestyle off at the dealership this morning for an oil change, tire rotation, and checkup.  About mid-morning, I received a phone call from "Jeff."  Jeff told me I needed my brake pads and rotors replaced on the rear wheels.  My reaction was pretty simple:  "You have got to be shitting me."  No, Jeff said, unfortunately he wasn't kidding.

I'm going downstate this weekend for my daughter's dance competition.  It's going to be about an 800-mile round trip.  I don't want my brake pads or rotors to fail half-way across the Mackinac Bridge, plunging me over the railing into Lake Michigan.  Therefore, I'm going to end up paying about $400 more than I budgeted for this little visit to the dealership.

What does this have to do with Ossenburger?  Right now, I wish I was Ossenburger.  I want to be an inauthentic, phony bastard.  That's what I wish.  However, I'm not.  I will go to the dealership tonight and pay for my repairs.  I told Jeff, when he phoned, that, for the amount of money I'm going to shell out, he should put some chocolate on the driver's seat, fill up my gas tank, and be prepared to do a pole dance for me.  He laughed.  He thought I was joking.  I wasn't.

The summer of Saint Marty's money worries has begun, and it's only the first day of May.

Brakes AND rotors?

August 31: Getting Through With the Day

My whole goal for this last day of August is to survive.  Yes, this week has been horrible.  School.  Work.  Church.  Everything sucked on many levels.  Today, I have to go grocery shopping.  My car is at the garage being repaired, to the tune of $800.  Tomorrow, I volunteered to help out at the Marquette Marathon.  I have to be there at 6:30 a.m.  The only good thing about that commitment is that I will be done by 8:30 a.m.  On Sunday, I will be playing with my praise band at the local Labor Day Blues Fest.  That, of course, is a volunteer gig, as well.  Pretty much, if you're keeping tabs, my entire weekend is shot, except for Monday.

I don't know how I'm going to pay for groceries, car repairs,  back-to-school supplies for my daughter, and my mortgage.  There's simply not enough money to go around.  Now, I could go all Saint Peter or Paul and say that God will provide.  You know, all that stuff about the birds or the air never having to worry about where their next meal is coming from.  Yesterday, however, a bird fell out of a pine tree by my dad's house.  It looked like it had been torn apart by a cat or crow.  That didn't give me much confidence in God's providence.

So, Marty will be retaining his title as the patron saint of worriers.  Hallelujah.

Lord, don't let a crow get me today...

August 17: Weakness, Power Reaches Perfection, Embracing the Thorn

In Paul's second letter to the Corinthians, he talks about having been given "a thorn in the flesh, an angel of Satan to beat me and keep me from getting proud."  Paul begs God on three separate occasions to take this thorn away.  Three times, God answers, "My grace is enough for you, for in weakness power reaches perfection."

We all have thorns to deal with.  My previous blog post spoke of the envy I  have of my sister- and brother-in-law's house.  That was a huge thorn for me last night.  I found myself at one point during the birthday party just sitting on a flight of stairs by myself, sulking.  It wasn't an attractive sight.  I have a lot of thorns like that, thorns that bother me on a daily basis.

I frequently feel slighted by people.  For instance, my sister asked me last week to pick up an annual discount card from a local school's football team.  This card provides all kinds of savings on groceries and gas and movie tickets.  It's a great deal.  I went out and bought her a card for ten dollars.  I went to her house last night and delivered her card.  She took it and thanked me.  That was it.  She didn't offer to reimburse me the cost.  Nothing.  In fact, she complained a little about a change in one of the offers on the card.  That's a thorn.

I am an adjunct instructor at the university.  Currently, the contract for the full-time professors is under negotiation.  The full-timers want a pay raise and better health insurance, among other things.  Very few of them have a concept of what an adjunct makes per semester, without benefits or raises.  I've been making the same small wage per class since about 2001.  That's a thorn.

My car needs about $800 in repairs, plus four new tires.  That's a thorn.

My house needs a coat of paint, according to the insurance company I just switched to.  Thorn.

I have a cold.  I still have to create my syllabus for the fall semester.  I have to clean my house this afternoon.  Thorn, thorn, thorn.  Every day, there are big and small thorns in all our lives.

It's not the thorns that are important, however.  That's what God tells Paul.  It's how we deal with the thorns.  By surrendering to the thorns, accepting them, we gain the power of faith.  God gives us grace to deal with the imperfections of this world.  And through God's grace, we achieve power over the thorns.

Saint Marty needs a lot of grace this morning.  He's going grocery shopping at Wal-Mart.

So many thorns, not enough roses

January 10: End of the Day, Car Repairs, New Glasses

...and Blitzen and all his reindeer, pullin' on the reins.

Yes, I'm still singing.  It is the end of a very long day.  My mind did start working better about mid-way through the afternoon.  I got through one stack of paperwork, almost.  It wasn't as horrendous as I thought it was going to be, but I kept reminding myself to not freak out, that I wasn't going to get everything done in one shift.  It sort of worked, but "Here Comes Santa Claus" helped, as well.

On top of returning to work, I also brought my car into the garage for an oil change and check-up.  The mechanic called me about 10 a.m. to say that my car was done, but there was a $300-plus repair that was needed.  I told the mechanic, "Thank you, but I can't afford to spend $300 dollars on my car at the moment."  It sort of left the guy speechless.  Then I called another local garage and made an appointment to bring my car in for an estimate.  I told the mechanic at the second garage, "Basically, I'm looking for an estimate substantially less than $300."  We'll see how it goes.

George Clooney has the same frames, I hear

I did pick up my new glasses.  I felt a little guilty about getting new glasses, considering our finances at the moment, but the glasses were already ordered.  I'm trying to justify the purchase by telling myself they were only $99.  That's not bad for a pair of Ralph Lauren frames.  Still have guilt.  Lots of it.

Sing with Saint Marty:  Bells are ringin'.  Children singin'.  All is merry and bright...

October 11: And the Mechanic Says...

My wife just stopped by after the oil change appointment for my car.  The good news:  it only cost $24 for today's work.  The bad news:  1) something about the brake pads in the rear--$400; 2) something about a strut--$840.  My exact words to my wife were, I believe, "Screw 'em.  I'm not doing that.  I'll drive the bastard into the ground."

Needless to say, my afternoon has not been that pleasant, and I still have to go teach mythology at the university.  Pity those kids today.  Really pity them.  I'm in an awful mood, and I still have my son's birthday party to look forward to.  Sometimes, I think it would be better if I just stayed in bed or went back to bed.

Better yet, I think I need to go visit my condo on the Nile.  It's always so beautiful there, all pink and green and warm.  Everything is within walking distance, including Walt Disney World and Stockholm, where I can visit my friends at the Swedish Academy who've just awarded me the Nobel Prize in Literature.  Everything taste likes tapioca pudding and Cheetos and Diet Mountain Dew, including the cottage cheese and black beans and tuna.  And I can't walk down the streets without someone mistaking me for Brad Pitt or Goerge Clooney.

It's a wonderful place.

Join Saint Marty there tonight.  He's throwing a party.

View from my condo balcony...

June 14: Another Hero, Another Workshop, Another Car Repair

Well, the Spiritual Autobiography Workshop I thought I was going to have to cancel picked up two more participants this morning.  Therefore, I will be at church tonight talking about spiritual journeys and Abraham and writing.  It should be a really good night with good conversation and people.  We'll see if, after I explain the requirements of the workshop, everybody will want to move ahead.  It requires quite a commitment of time and energy, from the participants and me.

But I'm not complaining.  You see, I found a new hero who has taught me something about complaining.  You'll remember, last Friday, I wrote about Dale Price from the blog Wave At the Bus.  He's the father who dressed up in costumes and waved at his teenage son's school bus.  I found another everyday hero on another blog.  The Blogger people chose a blog about Alice x, a 15-year-old girl with terminal cancer, as a Blog of Note yesterday.  Alice's Bucket List is not depressing, maudlin, or in any way like Terms of Endearment.  Alice x is a normal girl, living each day to the fullest.  She's matter-of-fact about her chances of survival, which I gather are not very good, and she's trying to do awesome things with the time she has left.

The number one item on Alice x's bucket list is "To make everyone sign up to be a bone marrow donor."  Her sister, Milly, ran the Race for Life this past Sunday, and, thanks to Alice's Bucket List, Milly raised over £30,000.  (By the way, Alice is British.)  In just five blog posts, Alice has over 12,000 followers, and she's become an Internet superstar.  For being positive and brave and selfless.  She's absolutely amazing.

And her story puts things into perspective for me.  I often get wound up in my little world of jealousy and ego.  I mock the famous, ridicule the fortunate, and bemoan the fact I can't get chosen as a freakin' Blog of Note.  I'm a small person, most of the time, with petty worries.  Alice x is a fearless girl with fearless dreams.  She deserves to be admired.  She is a hero, in every sense of the word.

I guess what I'm trying to say today is that we're all blessed.  When I get up in the morning, that's a blessing.  When I get a hug from my daughter or son, that's a blessing.  When the garage calls to tell me I have to have my brakes fixed to the tune of $500, that's a blessing, too.  Because I have a car.  Because I can scrape together the cash to pay for the fix.  I'm blessed.  (I wish I wasn't QUITE so blessed with the car repair, but that's the way it goes.)

Go visit Alice x's blog.  She doesn't ask for money or tears or pity.  She doesn't ask for anything.  She just counts her blessings and goes for walks with her mom and dog.  She really is a saint.

Saint Marty has a lot to learn.

Saint Alice x

May 26: Another Book Club, Tired, Crescent Weenies

I have been pretty tired all day.  I woke up tired and took a two liter of Diet Mountain Dew into the shower with me this morning.  Between washing and shaving, I slugged back Dew and tried to wake myself up.  Thank God it was a little slower at work.  I didn't have to act friendly very much.

Tonight, my book club is coming over for our monthly meeting.  Spent last night, between snatches of the mediocre American Idol finale, making crescent weenies for the get together.  I've already written about the book, Annie's Ghosts, a couple of posts ago.  I'm almost done with it, and I'm still finding it difficult to read.  Maybe the subject is a little too close to home.  I have a wife with mental illness and a sister with Down's syndrome, so a true story about a person who's institutionalized and literally forgotten isn't sitting too well with me at the moment.  I'm interested to see how my wife, sister, and mother are going to respond. 

Oh, by the way, the total for the car repairs yesterday fell somewhere between Ouch! and Boing!  And I'm not done yet.  It still needs a little more work, which sucks.  However, the rattle has disappeared, and the gate latch will function properly in about a week.  The mechanic keeps mentioning the future need for work on the head gaskets.  Not yet.  In the future.  It's like waiting for a hidden landmine to explode.

I know I promised a new poem today.  Didn't happen.  I was too busy reading Annie's Ghosts.  You will get a poem tomorrow, I promise.  I know this post isn't very inspiring or creative.  My apologies.  I'm too tired to be very funny, thoughtful, deep, or artistic.

Saint Marty settles for mediocre today.

Embrace it!