Shanti's Journey Journal: Three Weirds, and Tomatoes

Oh, the tragedy of a broken vehicle! I've been stuck in the house for days, whiling away the hours and counting down for Tuesday when I might have my car fixed. The mood has been boredom around here, as both me and Molly are missing home and wanting something to happen but not having the wherewithal to get out there and seek. There were some interesting things that happened, though none of them particularly good.

Thing Number One: The Broken Car Saga

Wednesday evening, I pulled into my parking spot in the driveway and my car started throwing off clouds of steam and hissing. The temperature gauge was at top Hot, and I was too afraid to open the hood as I didn't want the thing to explode in my face. After a while it cooled down and I did pop the hood, using a headlamp to see if I could find what had caused this catastrophe. Nothing was in evidence that a novice such as myself could see, so the next day I got on the internet to find a local mechanic. I found a place called Ingles Auto Repair only a five minute drive from my house. I talked to a guy named "Kinny" aka Kenny, and he told me to go ahead and drop my car at the place here in Candler and if he needed to he'd take it to the bigger shop in town. Told me to leave the key in the mail slot of the garage.

That evening, Thursday now, Molly followed me out to find the address that was over the phone number that Kinny answered. We drove past it of course, because they don't believe in street signs out here. Had to stop and ask some country folk if I was actually on the right road. Also asked them if there was an auto shop on the road. "Up a bit," they told me. So we drove a little farther and saw the sign that read Ingles Auto Repair pointing up a gravel hill. I followed this, the whole time keeping an eagle eye on the thermostat. I parked next to the garage and noticed that there were cars in their driveway and a overly friendly pitbull barking nonstop at us. I found no mail slot, which gave me pause, but shrugged and put the key in the door to the garage. We then drove off in Molly's car and headed to a nice venue called Isis that her friend from work was playing at that night. We watched the show, then decided to leave early. I noticed on the way home that I had a voicemail, and thinking maybe it was the abducted by aliens James, I listened to it. Not James, but the Buncombe County Sherriff telling me that these folks don't understand why I left my car on their property and my key in their garage and could I please call him back soon so he could figure out what was going on.

Now, don't get me wrong. Misunderstandings happen. I called the sheriff back and told him I'd come get my car, and how weird it was that the phone number I'd called had been with this exact address, this exact auto shop name. He told me that the man who lived there had been a mechanic, but it had been years ago. He also told me that they'd appreciate it if I waited until the next morning to get my car from them. I asked him who had the key. They did.

Does this whole situation not strike any of you as incredibly odd? And by far the weirdest piece: They knew where I'd put my key. Which meant that they'd seen us there, heard their dog barking at us. And these people decided it was easier to call the police than to step onto their porch and ask us who we were and what we were doing? WTF?

Next morning, we drove back to this weird place, noticing that at least they'd taken down the sign. I got out of Molly's car and looked around, wondering, do I knock on the door? Do I check the garage? Then a man came out of the side of the house and it took me a moment to take him in. Tall and skinny. Tight black jeans, cowboy boots, tucked in black printed t-shirt. Long hair, long beard, black cowboy hat with feathers in it. Wow. He was awesome. We exchanged greetings, he didn't know anyone by the name of Kenny, but he gave me a card of another Candler mechanic who was very fair and good and wished me well. We drove my little car back to our house, and I passed out because I didn't sleep the night before. When I awoke I called the number on the card and made an appointment because I just didn't care anymore. And Kenny never called me to see what happened, which is just as well because I'm not sure what I'd say to him about this strange, strange saga.

Thing Number Two: The Long Drive to Nowhere

Friday night, there was a psychic meeting that Molly and I were talking about attending. I even called them to RSVP. Molly decided she didn't want to go, but I still did. I asked her if she minded if I borrowed her car for it. She said sure. I got onto mapquest to find the address. It was a ways out, so I left 45 minutes early. Silly Shanti.

Traffic was at a standstill. It took me about a half hour to even get onto the first freeway. When finally I found the exit, two freeways later, I pulled off and checked the directions. I was to turn left on a road. Simple, right? Ah, but remember my comment earlier about North Carolina and street signs? As in, they don't exist? Oh, I was so angry. Here I was, having suffered through 45 minutes of insane traffic for no apparent reason besides it being Friday evening, and I couldn't for the life of me even find this stupid place when I got in the general vicinity! And, by the time I could've pulled it up on my phone, it would've been too late anyway. And so I pulled into a parking lot, raged, took deep breaths, and decided to go friggin grocery shopping. Retail therapy. Then I went home and had a couple drinks and as it was the Solstice, decided that we were going to have a fire. WE WOULD HAVE FIRE! Happily, with much patience and coaxing, we made it happen. And Shanti was finally calm and happy.

Molly and our little but real fire

Another thing that made me happy on the longest day of the year: Artichokes and Hollandaise sauce. And delicious biscuits with Amish peanut butter and raspberry jam from the farmer's market.

Thing Number Three: There's a Mouse in the House

This is not a new occurrence, it's been going on for the past couple weeks. But I thought it was time to bring it up, as it's gotten to the point of absurdity and I'm not sure whether to laugh or scream. So I do both, really.

Here's a picture of what I'm talking about:

Now, I don't normally take pictures of dead animals. But I felt I had to record this one, today, to emphasize my point. And this is the point. My lovely little Turkish, cute thing that she is, has shown me her love daily by bringing in rodents by the mouthful. Dead ones, live ones, twitching ones, broken back ones, squeaking ones, bloody ones, you name it, she brings it into my bedroom to show me and meows proudly. At least one a day for the past two weeks. Probably two today, because this one was earlier and there will most probably be another tonight. I've had to dispose of them one by one, using a shovel, paper towels, and a Tupperware container for the live one last night. It's like a parade of hunting off of the discovery channel, except that it's live, under my feet, in my bedroom, daily. And I don't know what to do about it, she's a cat, this is what she does, she's so happy and proud of herself. "See what I brought you mom, I love you mom, here mom, listen to me eat this thing not a foot away from you. Meow meow meow."

These are the three things that have been interesting, sorta painful, humorous, and downright bizarre. And there's one more thing. Molly and I have tried and failed to find any bars in either Candler or Canton. The closest one is Applebees. We just want a dive bar, somewhere with cheap drinks that we can go chill at. But no, we have to drive forever to find one of these. How is this possible? Well, it's North Carolina baby. And nothing here is as it seems.

Upside today, Rufus and I went for a little walk down the hill and saw the tomatoes growing.