Luck, Be a Lady … January 21, 2008

After a recent, extended bout of car trouble, my fair-weather Jeep, Shirley (as in MacLaine, so named after a rebuilt engine gave her a second life a few years back) is once again in working order. I’m quite thrilled about this, because though I enjoyed the pedestrian lifestyle the boy and I had led over the past six months or so, walking to work got a little old when the wind chill factor hit seven degrees or so.

                                                     

Now Shirley has had a curious history of, shall we say, misfortune coinciding with the renewal of her registration in recent years.

- Four years ago, the day after she was granted bright and shining brand new tags, she was lent to a family member in need of transport to work, and while on the journey decided to seize up her engine.

- After a few years went by she was restored to working order and again had her slightly out of date tags renewed, only to catch the eye of a quota-seeking state trooper on the way down to Savannah.

Last week, after making yet another trip down to the DeKalb County Tag Office, things seemed to be going oddly smooth as Shirley and I went about our day. That is until she was pulled into a Kroger parking lot, and a distracted driver quite regrettably locked the keys inside while she was still running.

Shirley. You must be joking.

After a few attempts at calling a locksmith to the scene – one who shamelessly tried to swindle said driver out of $100 and became quite threatening when he was refused – one kindly man agreed to coerce Shirley into allowing us back in out of the cold to the tune of $65.

As we waited, and in an attempt to 1) commemorate the occasion, and 2) cheer up the boy – who had become quite distraught – a few toys were bought from the quarter machine outside the grocery store. A pair of green dice emerged from the contraption in their fluorescent plastic bubble, and it was decided that they would be split between us in an attempt to dispel Shirley’s juju. No matter who was driving.

Feeling like Karma was once again on our side, I happily paid the locksmith for his work and – in my excitement – exclaimed “I’m putting you guys on speed dial! Not that this will ever happen again.”

He looked at me sideways and replied, “It will now that you said it.”

I frantically dove inside in an attempt to knock on wood. Think the woodgrain in Shirley’s interior has the same effect?

Mmmm … Kissable … January 21, 2008

I’ve often told the boy that if I were ever to leave him for another man, it would be Burt.

As in Burt’s Bees. The only other man who puts me in a kissing mood.

I’m addicted. Absolutely addicted. Not only is the lip balm wonderful (feels all tingly and not overly waxy, and it smells and tastes just slightly minty), but I’m beginning to experiment with the other products the company offers, and they are equally as fantastic.

Everything is completely natural, and whether or not you think those other products on the market containing mineral oil/petroleum jelly/what have you will one day prove detrimental to your health, it’s always good to be the safe side, right?

I fell pretty hard for Burt a few years back. And the more I learn about their company and their green initiatives, the harder I fall. For example:

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“Burt’s Bees maintains its founders’ green philosophies. Employees’ bonuses are based in part on how well the company meets energy conservation goals, and there are prime parking spaces for staff members
who drive hybrid cars or carpool. It buys offsets for 100 percent of its carbon emissions and is working toward a goal of sending no trash to landfills by 2020.”

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The above was taken from a New York Times article called “Can Burts Bees Turn Clorox Green?” (http://tinyurl.com/37xn2x)- a very intriguing, well-written article about the history of the environmentally-friendly company and its recent sale to Clorox. Go read, and decide for yourself what the answer to the title’s question is.

There’s also a cute little picture of Burt at the top. He seems to have been somewhat shafted in the various money-making moves of the company. But I’m still a Burt convert. Turkey coop or no.