right now.

i'm watching the hills. omg, i love it. i shouldn't love it. what is my problem?

i watched the girls next door right before this. i called my sister. this is what we said...me:"hey, what are you doing." amy:"watching the girls next door." me:"ha, me, too. but i've seen this one before." amy:"ha ha ha ha i have, too." me: "we're the same person, amy." amy:"yeah, i know."

besides watching the hills, i wish i had some eggs. i have nothing but spinach and cheese in the fridge. a hard-boiled egg sounds divine. so does a town topic burger. or a lobster and steak dinner from the savoy.

i do have bacon in the freezer, but it's frozen - obviously. i will defrost it over night.

thinking.

i was reminded of this quote by c.s. lewis this weekend. i love it on many levels. mostly, because it convicts me. in a good way.

it's take from his book, 'mere christianity.'


"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: "I'm ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don't accept His claim to be God." That is the one thing we must not say. A man who said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic--on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg--or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to."

good stuff, no?

this weekend.

my friend since second grade, jonathan, was in town. i hadn't seen him since i graduated college. (save an hour-lunch we had in 2004.) he's a meteorologist. he's the only person i know who is actually doing what they "wanted to be when they grew up." my dad was happy to see him, too.

also, my friends dion and stephen were with jonathan. i hadn't seen them since college either.

after fun and wine was had at the power and light district, the night ended, for me anyway, at town topic. i'd never been.

it was yum.

to my woof woof.

we read about you in the paper. and we went, on our lunch hour, across the train tracks and down the road with $300 in the glove box. in cash. that strange woman brought you out and set you down on the dirty road. you were tiny. two pounds. the german Shepard in the yard was barking and gnashing its teeth, but you didn't notice. i took one look at you and was smitten. we bought you and brought you home.

for awhile a kennel was your home while we were away. i hated locking you up in there. but, i knew it was for the best. after some time, we could trust you. so you got to stay out. your perch was the back of the couch where you could keep a watchful eye on the street. sometimes, you'd sleep in the sun. later, you found the suede chair and made it your own.

i came home for lunch to let you out most days. one time, your face was swollen and your eyes wouldn't open. i rushed you to the vet afraid you would die. you'd been stung by several bees and needed a shot. i didn't know what i'd do if i lost you.

you were my buddy. my best friend. you waited for me on my side of the bed. you sat with me on the couch. you followed me around while i made dinner or dusted or got ready for work. you accompanied me on one-mile cool down walks - post run. you were always excited to see me, always happy, always accepting.

and you loved to eat. inhaling food like a vacuum.

and you were smart. very smart.

you were my gussy. my bubba. my guster. mr. guss. you had 'gussy ears' and the most human-like expressions. you talked to me with your sighs. your whines. your exhales.

you were a light in my life, mr. woof. and i'm sorry i had to go.

i miss you terribly.

an informal poll.

should i dye my hair this color? i've never colored it before. but this sounds exciting.

on the other side of the fence...

it has recently been apparent to me that the grass is always greener. it's true. mom was right.

i will prove this point with the following:

when i owned a home, i wanted a bigger one. i also thought renting again would be a good option.
now that i'm a renter, i'm aching to be a homeowner again. i drive by yards with budding trees and cry. for real. i cry.

when i was married, i'd wonder if being single would be more fun -- more fulfilling.
now that i am not married, i keep looking at all of these married couples with envy. and a weird sort of jealousy. like their future is somewhat certain and mine is all up in the air. and i like to have a plan. a neat little list of things to do and to cross off. i don't have one of those right now.

when i had roommates, i always wanted them to magically disappear. their stuff. their noise. their mess.
now that i don't have roommates, it's clear i'm not built for this living alone stuff. the apartment seems too big. too empty. to messy for just me. but why clean when i'm just going to mess it up again? i want a roommate.

when gus came into my life, there were times he drove me so crazy, i just needed to hand him over and go running.
now that i never see gussy, i miss him so much. sometimes when a shadow dances across the wall, out of the corner of my eye i swear it's him. i check petfinder.com every day to look for another doggy to love. but i'm not sure one will every take his place.

when i was suffering from acid reflux, it was so bad i couldn't swallow. i thought i'd rather have anything but that.
now, that's gone. but this IC nonsense is 100 times worse. so, yeah. i'd take the reflux back to give up this IC in a second.

until this year, i drove a string hondas. a 1998 cvic followed by a 1996 civic (with a brief plymouth sundance detour.) then a 2002 civic. then a 2006 element. by then, i was sick of honda's and thought a toyota sounded nicer.
now, i would trade my 2007 yaris for a 2002 civic any day.

when i had a yard, i hated yard work. despised it, even.
now, i have dreams that i'm working in a yard - only to wake up to my cement floors and high ceilings. i want a yard again.

okay, and we've come full circle.

the conclusion? i'm constantly switching sides of the fence.

say yes to cafe al dente.

last night, after running and a shower, i headed to cafe al dente in the river market. i'd never been. now i'm determined to become a regular.

it's been there for more than 20 years. you know, back when the river market was the home of kansas city gangster activity. a lot didn't survive the demise of the "river quay," but cafe al dente did. and it's no wonder.

walking into this little mom and pop place is like stepping into a small town where everyone is treated like family. the pizza was good and the menu is surprisingly vast and cheap.

jacqueline, the perfectly little, perfectly grandma-ish italian owner, greets everyone as they come through the door. if there's room, she sits at each table while taking the order. and when diners leave - after wine or beer and a stomach full of quality cooking - she's genuinely glad they came.

i left jacqueline and crew with a box full of pizza, a bit of wine in my belly and a smile. and when they shouted to come back. i said i would. and i meant it.

ended well.

bad day made better by 7.35 mile run. in record time. ah, the joy of more daylight and warmer temperatures. (sigh.)

on the right foot.

as i was walking into work today, a street sweeper pulled out of the garage and sent a cloud of dust into the air. i had to walk through it.

about a minute later, as i walked to my desk, i knocked a whiteboard off the wall. somehow.

ten minutes later, i was standing at the all-agency meeting, sipping my coffee when i dripped some. down the front of my new shirt. as i looked down to survey the damage, i noticed that in the fifteen minute it took me to put my shoes on, get in my car and get into work, i managed to scuff my new red patent leather shoe. on the top. an ugly white mark on the magnificent, glossy red, pointy toe. the toe of the left shoe -- a reminder that today, i did not start off on the right foot.

and on the third day...

it's easter. and for the first time, i comprehend it. i understand the magnitude of what it means. of what god did for us. of how i can live because the tomb was empty. i never understood why i didn't cry when i saw 'the passion of the christ' or why i didn't get emotional on easter or any time someone reminded me of grace and love and what peace that surpasses all understanding really is. i never knew why i didn't ache when i saw depictions of my savior nailed to a wooden cross. bleeding. suffering. dying. what was wrong with me that it didn't touch me the way it did the person next to me or that man with his hands raised in the front pew? i understood the magnitude of it all -- the fact that if christ really didn't resurrect, nothing he said was true. that if he truly didn't beat death, he was nothing but a liar. that's why it's sort of a big deal to believe he did rise. he did beat death and he does live. still. so that i can, too.

i didn't get any easter candy this year. i didn't go to brunch. i didn't take a walk or do any other spring thing -- rituals i used to cling to on this day. instead, i went to church. and sitting there, sandwiched between two friends who are at very different places on their spiritual journey, in a church that is still somewhat unfamiliar, i felt the presence of god more so than ever before. and i cried - for the first time - when i thought about what the empty tomb really means.

contemplating it all, while on the elliptical after church, the lyrics from a deathcab for cutie song had new meaning. i've gone through a lot in the last year. i cling to the promises that i'll be taken care of.

all is full of love
lyrics by deathcab for cutie
you'll be given love
you'll be taken care of
you'll be given love
you have to trust it
maybe not from the sources you have poured yours
maybe not from the direction you are staring at
twist your head around
it's all around you
all is full of love
all around you
all is full of love
you just ain't receiving
all is full of love
your phone is off the hook
all is full of love
your doors are all shut
all is full of love
in any language
all is full of love......

i guess it reminds me of god's love being readily available. and how sometimes, i just refuse to receive it.

so, happy easter. happy third day.

about the anonymous personal life inquiries.

dear internet,

you're changing every day. getting faster. smarter. cooler. simply, you're maturing. you've hosted my blog for three years - you know me as pensive girl. and well, internet, because of you, i'm able to publish my thoughts almost every day. and for some reason, i have an audience that reads me babble about things like life and hope and despair and god and my not-so-secret love affair with white chocolate, chili-cheese fritos and wine. maybe i'm funny? i'm definitely sarcastic and deeply emotional. and i think that readers really connect with that, internet. perhaps my blog is a familiar comfort to them.

not a week goes by where pensive girl hasn't felt, lived and written. god-willing, i plan to continue this pattern.

but, internet, certain people amuse me. people who inquire about my 'availability' and willingness to date by posting anonymous comments on random posts. yeah, you break down walls, internet - you really do. but who in their right mind would reply to a comment like that? i love my readers, i really do. and i cherish the fact that you, internet, allow me to connect with people i've never met. i'm thankful to have a place to publish my thoughts and idiosyncrasies. but there are certain things i keep private. i don't talk about my personal life anymore. not bluntly, anyway. and that will continue to be my pattern. i give my readers a window into my soul. but, that window stops short of the very core of me. it must.

i hope you understand, internet. you've been so supportive in my blogging endeavor.

yours very truly,

pensive girl

mistakes.

things to never do again on company-provided half day

1. skip lunch and head to dsw
2. leave dsw at 1 p.m. and head to oak park mall (after spending 100 bucks on shoes)
3. ignore light-headedness and walk through food court to forever 21
4. spend an hour gathering a massive pile of clothes to try on
5. wait in line for a fitting room
6. find six things to buy
7. stand in 80 person line (not exaggerating)
8. after 15 minutes of waiting with no moving forward, put clothes back and leave
9. continue to ignore hunger, go to nordstrom's
10. try on $200 jeans in style you don't own
11. consider them
12. go upstairs to cheaper, B.P.
13. try on clothes, settle on two shirts
14. continue walking around the mall in uncomfortable shoes while hungry
15. go into american eagle thinking you'll find something that won't make you look 13
16. try on the new trouser-cut jean at j.crew (that make you look like a fatass)
17. get back on the highway to drive home before eating

loose plans

5 second plan
finish this incomplete sentence
blow my nose
sip coffee
wake up

5 minute plan
publish this post
stretch my aching back
breathe
put on shoes

5 hour plan
write some stuff
come up with amazing concepts
figure out how far to run tonight
eat

5 day plan
watch a movie
drink some (read: a small amount) of white wine
try something new
enjoy spring
buy new spring outfit and jeans that fit


5 week plan
go to san francisco
fall in love with san francisco
eat fresh things
breathe salty air
land at kci smoothly

5 month plan
register yaris in missouri
avoid running-induced heat stroke
hydrate
lose five pounds
stop eating white chocolate for breakfast


5 year plan
write my memoir
publish a book of poetry
own a house - again
adopt a dog
get another red chair
say good-bye yaris


10 year plan
ring finger filled
call me mom
8 marathons under my belt
fashionista
art collector
fine wine drinker
lover of jesus
audi station wagon driver
improv-actor
slam poetry reader

dreaming.

when i have too much time to think, i often determine that one of the following fashion-life paths is where i should reside.
instead, i missed the boat and settled on ordinary, slightly trendy, somewhat-styled, mostly comfortableness. it's an awkward middle-ground.

i wish i was the personification of vintage fashion.
my closet would be full of incredible outfits and handbags and shoes.
i also wish money grew on trees.
then my windows would be outfitted in drapes made of scrumptious fabric. and my bed would automatically double in size, grow a headboard and sport a fluffy, down comforter.

i just used the adjective "scrumptious" to modify the noun "fabric." okay then.

other times, i want to cut my hair into a retro shag, dye it purple/red, get a tattoo sleeve, wear severe eye makeup and drive a restored 1967 mustang convertible. it would be turquoise. or pink.

i would perfect the art of tearing fishnets in just the right spot to accent my hardware-heavy black knee boots. i'd wear dark red lipstick and leather wrist cuffs. i'd dabble in the art of wearing really short, jagged bangs. i'd always be the perfect combination of artsy and trashy. my mustang convertible, by the way, would have white leather seats.

curious.

after assimilating into downtown living and working culture, i've noticed that not all homeless people are alike. they wear different things. some look like they've showered. some do not. some hang out on the same bridge every day, some meander around. some travel in pairs, others in groups...still others - alone.

but there is one curious similarity among them all. when they beg for money, they write their words on cardboard. why cardboard? is it easier to find than paper or plastic and where do they get fat, black-tipped permanent markers? seriously.

sleuth.

i just found fritos in the downstairs kitchen. free ones.

hells yes.

today.

i'm still basking in the afterglow of receiving the best gift ever, ever.

other than that, i'm trying to solve this mystery that is IC. i had some pretty bad days last week and then, as if by some sort of miracle, after about noon yesterday i had no pain. no frequency. no symptoms.
the mind game of it all, though, is that these "good spells" are few and far between. so i will enjoy the moment now because who knows when it will be gone.

jeez, i sound like such a downer lately, don't i?

on the upside, the fact that it's still light out at 7:30 p.m. is enough to make me smile. and that the organic grocery store was having a sale on metro mint water. also, i got some cute new spring clothes. and a bonus. and i'm making travel plans. to go somewhere more artsy, cultured and fun. soon. i can't wait.

and i'm running again. a lot. signed up for a race today.

anyway, happy monday and st. patrick's day.

i didn't wear any green today (don't tell.)

the day i met paul flinders.

i didn't know why we were going to lawrence. i knew we'd be gone from 1 to 3 and that there was something we were going there for. i thought maybe i was getting a cat.

when we pulled up to the obviously college-student-occupied house, i was still unsure of what we were doing. i continued to have no clue while we knocked on the door. and when a young, familiar-looking guy opened it. until the words, "jessi, meet paul flinders," were spoken, i still didn't grasp where i was.

omg, i was at paul flinders' house. i'd been admiring his work all year. i'd priced it and shrugged. i'd gone to see it hanging in local galleries and i'd linked to it from here. several times. he offered us wine. but we were in a hurry so we got to go straight to the studio. to the room that housed all the paintings i've fallen in love with.

i thought that was the surprise. getting to meet paul flinders. getting to see where he works. but that was hardly it. i got to choose one painting from each size that i liked. then, i was instructed to go wait upstairs.

in the end, i was given this. it's the first piece of his that caught my eye to lead me to discover him. and it's now here at home with me.

i haven't hung it yet, but here's proof.

i'm one lucky girl.

best. day. ever.

about which i learned some things.

when i got there, the door was locked. and it was dusk and cold and a not-so-safe part of town. maybe the locked door was a sign that i should turn around, get in my car, turn on my heat and drive home. to the comfort of my couch and the safety of being alone. so, i sat on damp stairs for a while - thinking that maybe if i sat long enough, the time would just pass and the door would remain locked and i would have missed my first support group meeting by no fault of my own. and as i sat, looking over my journal dedicated to "figuring it out," a woman in scrubs opened the door.

i walked toward the unfamiliar auditorium with angst. the voices inside sounded old - much older than 28-year-old me. i signed in, took a seat and realized that i was young enough to be the grand-daughter, maybe even great grand-daughter, of everyone else in the room.

age didn't bind us together. nor did social or economic status. we were all there because we have IC. spouses were there, too. and a nurse practitioner. and i spent the next two and a half hours learning that i may need to go to another doctor. that the one i see isn't as compassionate or as cutting-edge as this other one. this doctor who is highly regarded in the IC community. this loved doctor that does research and is on the cutting edge of figuring out ways to treat this chronic disease for which there is no cure.

i took copious amounts of notes in my "figuring it out" journal. notes about treatment options and side effects. notes questioning my diagnoses and my doctor. notes pointing toward my pain and my discomfort. and a note as a reminder that patients with IC have to be their own advocate. and that if we rally together to lobby behind this disease - to bring it to light politically and socially, maybe, just maybe, more doctors will learn about it, more researchers will study it and the government will start to realize the importance of approving medication and treatments for this debilitating condition that strikes severely and suddenly in more people than they'd like to believe.

i walked out with a man who was in his 90s. he's had IC for 50 years. he doesn't have pain though - and feels lucky. "you women who have to deal with pain, i just can't even imagine that on top of all of the other symptoms," he said as we walked across 39th street. he just started wearing adult diapers. and though bladder removal is sometimes thought of as the last option for very severe cases of IC, he's determined to keep his. and so are we all.

brain dump.

it's 71 degrees outside. that means i'm wearing heels with no socks. and my feet are paying for it. days like today make me miss my civic and its sunroof. because, i always feel sort of trapped in a car without a glass top through which to gaze at the heavens. and even though it's warm today, a bit balmy, even, i miss wearing a scarf. there's just something about the pop of color it adds while giving my porcelain neck something to hide behind - keeping it safe from harsh temperatures and staggering windchills. warm weather means no layers. no fluffy vests. no super-cute volcom coats. nothing but fabric and skin. and freckles that multiply quickly - bringing a truth i have to come to terms with. i am meant for constellations of brown dots to cover my nose and my cheeks and the skin above my top lip. that's where they blur into one messy, muddy orangish brown blob that in pictures looks like some strange coffee moustach; becoming the only thing my eye can see when focusing on imperfections is easier than choosing to love my hairstyle or my slightly thick runner's calves, that i'm told aren't cankles, but make me wonder.

but warm weather means something else, too. it means spring. and budding leaves. and tulips and more daylight for things like running, breathing, walking and just being. it means hope and laughter and twirly skirts and flip-flops. it's painted toenails and feeling the breeze on skin that's been cloaked in denim for too long.

so boldly i go - freckles and all. into spring. into the promise of newness and life and rebirth.



oh, i know winter will come again. but maybe, just maybe, next winter won't seem so harsh.

ouch.

i went to physical therapy today. i'm always in pain after. but not like this. this is the type of hurting that i feel in every muscle. the type of pain that makes me want to vomit.

i also learned one leg is slightly longer than the other due to a tilt in my pelvis - which i'm supposed to be able to correct on my own by doing this particular stretch i was shown.

you have got to be kidding me.

when stock photography comes back to bite hillary in the butt...

this satisfied me.

don't sue me for one halfway political post. it was too good not to share.

100 things to do before i die (numbers 1 - 50).

1. Run a full marathon.
2. Buy a kickass road bike.
3. Become a du-athlete.
4. Try rock climbing again.
5. Buy a house – again.
6. Design my own kitchen.
7. Invest in ridiculously expensive pots, pans and cutlery
8. Buy one “very me” place setting of china from 12 different patterns.
9. Host at least one dinner party using the mix-matched china and clanky crystal
10. Start collecting something.
11. Dye my hair red.
12. Invest in a designer handbag.
13. Bring another dog into my life.
14. Raise a family.
15. Spend enough time in France to be fluent again
16. Go to South Africa
17. Go on a missions trip
18. Picnic on the Greek isles
19. Start playing the piano again
20. Be the front-woman of a band.
21. Write my memoir
22. Get the memoir and a book of my poetry published
23. Invest in a really good camera and learn to use it
24. Find out how to be a music supervisor for a film
25. Be a music supervisor for a film
26. Live in a costal city
27. Invest in a fancy television
28. Turn the television off for a month
29. Have a reason to drive an audi station wagon
30. Go back to school for that degree in comparative literature
31. Enjoy crafting — just for a week
32. Learn how to knit
33. Grow an herb cutting garden
34. Learn to paint
35. Get a tattoo
36. Think about getting a tattoo sleeve
37. Learn how to make my eye makeup appear more severe
38. Memorize poetry
39. Become a running coach
40. Empower inner-city youth through running
41. Reduce my carbon footprint by a lot
42. Find a way to always be creative
43. Plant and maintain a flower garden
44. Adopt and or foster a child
45. Learn how to do a cartwheel and do them all day at the park
46. Take a day off to just sit under a tree
47. Learn to love my body
48. Finish reading the books I’ve started
49. Get to know jesus better
50. Sell my fashion-consultant services

shallow breaths.

i'm chewing juicy fruit gum and i'm thinking about who i am and how i got here. it's a lot of heavy thinking for a monday, so the gum is sweetening the deal a bit, i guess. yesterday at church, the sermon was about being in the wilderness. about how god took the israelites through the wilderness before they could reach the promise land. and about how often, god takes us to the absolute bottoms of ourselves so that he can meet with us and mold us. i've been at that bottom for a few years now. but, i don't think i knew at first. maybe i was too prideful. too boastfully "humble." i could admit my brokenness with my mouth, but not with my heart. but not now. now, my heart feels it. this brokenness. and it aches. most of the day. and it's crying out for change, for purpose, for the light at the end of this tunnel i'm swimming through. and it's scary, this place. but i know that the change it will bring will be glorifying to god and to the work he does in lives and so, i'm willing. i'm this vessel and i'm telling him to use me. mold me. shape me. like the potter shapes clay. unveil my eyes. let me see.

because really, this bottom is suffocating. and while i can sense his presence always. and i can see him changing me. i'd like to start climbing the long, tall stairway out. please.

i could've been at south by southwest.

but i didn't go. so, i was here. to usher in the giving back of daylight - my absolute favorite day of the year. and what did i do to celebrate? i went running 4.6 miles at 5:00. when the sun was still mostly high in the sky. and even as the run ended and i returned home to shower, clean a little and eat an apple, the world outside my window was still bright.

i also drank a lot of wine this weekend. which is cool because that means my bladder is mostly okay with vino. great news for me, because i've had a long-lasting love affair with it. and it pretty much sucked trying to bid it adieu.

i also saw waterdeep play. what? yes. i know, they "broke up." but you can't really "break up" when you're married to eachother. so, they reunited and played at the record bar. followed by the kruhsty brothers - the new project of Don from waterdeep, some other peeps from jacob's well and my friend, billy.

i then sang showtunes for the rest of the night. and some indigo girls. and anyway, it felt good.

a reason why i can't stop laughing.

my niece. she is going to be so funny. i just know it.

he said, she said.

according to the manager at the liquor store where the car was towed, we were warned by a security guard that if we left the car in that spot, it would be gone. the manager claims the security guard pointed to a tow truck that was waiting in the parking lot. and that we just answered, "we'll only be a minute."

um, WHO would be that stupid?

i knew i loved paula dean for a reason...

food network's queen of comfort food is known for fat-laden casseroles and over-the-top sugary nonsense. but this could be the most disgusting, while at the same time appetizing, thing i've seen her create.

innocence lost

the new american living campaign for jc penney
- the one that's a rip-off of american eagle
yeah, that one.
it makes me miss something i'm not sure i ever had;
deeply
at my core.
it makes me ache
for a small town parade
and a red, white and blue sweater
and for a brain that doesn't question
everything our government does.
it makes me want to be happy
just eating cotton candy
and hot dogs -
with no knowledge of organic
and what msg really does
to my body.
and it's crazy, this commercial
because it evokes this conflict --
juxtaposed with my ultimate hate for the brand
is this desire to be the people
in the ad
and i'm thinking
wow, they've done something right.

what my site meter tells me.

i have a site meter. i check it sometimes to see what sites are linking to my blog. and to see how many hits i get a day. (i'm so technical, i know.) recently, i've noticed a startling trend. one specific IP address visits my blog, on average, once an hour. saturday through monday. and when that IP address is viewing my blog, it's for up to an hour at a time. i know everything down to the latitude and longitude of where this IP address is stemming from. and i have suspicions. but i also have this unnerving feeling in my gut. i mean, i know i put myself out there. publicly. for people. anyone. but, when i start to notice stalkerish patterns, i wonder if it is time to password protect.

thoughts?

the offending party.

This is where i will no longer shop. I'm fine with my dad's wine shop or cellar rat or cvs (yes, cvs carries wine.)

and in a newly developed twist, the person managing that store that night may have been in cahoots with the fore mentioned, "privately owned towing company" to the OWNER'S absolute oblivion. if this is true, that manager may be fired.

i'll update as i can.

about which we ended up listening to country music in a yellow cab.

last night, we graced johnson county with our presence to indulge in a little phenomenon known as spin pizza. after a carafe of wine, two pizzas and two hours of conversation, i wasn't ready to go home. i insisted that the songs playing through the i-pod on the drive back downtown were ones i knew so that i could sing along at the top of my lungs. i'd been feeling sick for too long and was ready to feel better. so instead of going home, we stopped at martini corner and had a drink at the drop. after spending less than an hour there, we left and walked to the car. and well, the car wasn't there. but there wasn't any broken glass on the lot. there was no trace of foul play. just an empty spot that once held trusty leonardo. after taking a few laps around the lot to verify that the car didn't just "move" to another space, we walked into the liquor store that the car was parked in front of to ask if they'd seen anything. the guy working behind the counter just said, with a cocky tone, "yep, i had it towed. here's a card, call this number and arrange to have it picked up." we did that. it was going to cost $290 to get it back. wtf. seriously.

being that it was almost midnight, we called a cab to take us home and figured the car would be fine until the morning. the yellow cab arrived at the wrong bar and loaded itself with very drunk college students. but we shamelessly kicked them out of our cab and headed home. the foreign cab driver was listening to hip hop when we got in the back. but he switched it to twangy country once we took off. we must look like the country type.

fast forward to today. we call the number and set up an appointment to pick up leonardo at 11 a.m. we're instructed to drive 15 miles to the east bottom bottoms, cross the train tracks and then wait in the car across the street from a building. that's where a red chevy truck was supposed to meet us, collect our $290 in cash and then take us to the car. shady? yes.

while we waited for the red truck that was 15 minutes late, we called the city tow company. they said that it costs $140 to release a car. if the red flags in our minds weren't already up, they were certainly now. the truck arrived carrying three passengers. two big, red-neck looking guys and a woman wearing a hoodie, jeans and the blingiest, iced-out sunglasses i'd ever seen. they tell us to follow them.

so we do. down the street. left at some dilapidated old bar. across two sets of train tracks and into a huge parking lot gated with an electric fence and barbed wire. we see the city tow lot to our right but they keep going. so we follow. around a corner. past a bunch of stalled semi-trucks, behind a building and to leonardo. we're not ready to hand over the cash though, so we tell them we're on the phone with a city official who claims it shouldn't cost this much to release the car. the most red-neck of the red-neck guys says to us, "they need to re-check their records then. you need to know what you're talking about before you come here." um, excuse me? WE need to know what we're talking about?

then the iced-out woman with really long, purple fingernails says, "this is a privately owned company that is mine. do you want your vehicle or not?"

at that point i think we were both afraid of getting physically damaged. or killed. so we handed over the $290 cash and left.

but i'll tell you something. i will never shop at that liquor store again. and i am going to start investigating the deal that liquor store has with this "privately owned" towing company.

because something just doesn't seem right.