Thursday, December 31, 2009

So it's New Year's Eve-

and I am sitting here with a bag of Wavy Lay's and drowning my sorrows in French Onion dip rather than the liquid happiness I have come to know and love over the years.

No, I am not an alcoholic. But I do like my social occasion drinks, and the New Year is a social occasion worthy of one, or two, or several. However, since I am now MIDDLE AGED, anything stiffer than a Diet Coke causes me to go into migraine alert. I've had nightmares of myself confined to a dark room with a cloth over my head, hand clutching my bottle of Fioricets, and moaning in agony. And that, my readers, is why I don't drink anymore.

I used to laugh at my mom and grandmom when we'd head up to Canada for the weekend and they'd let me, a 16 year old girl, loose in a discotheque full of hormone raged young Frenchmen. My mom and grandmom would head to the bar with me, and buy a bottle of Molson to share, asking the bartender for two glasses. As soon as the cap was off, I swear they acted like drunken fools just by inhaling the scent, without their lips ever touching the glass. I'd send them up to their room (the hotel was upstairs) and I would dance and drink until 3 am. And then go to Mike's for pizza with friends before staggering upstairs to my room. Sometimes an eager Frenchman would want to "help" me get to my room, but the moment I got upstairs and near the door good ole Gram would open the door and yank me inside while swearing at my admirer in French. Ah, the good old days of my youth. And now, I have trouble keeping down a good Margarita. I think I've become my mother. And I have already told the kids if I act stupid to lock me in the bathroom and throw away the key.

Less than an hour here on the East Coast until the ball drops and people go nuts in Times Square. It's hard to believe that #10YearsAgo (as I posted on twitter earlier) I was partying it up in RI with my buddy Nancy while dancing bachata and merengue in Horizontes and the Tropicana. So I am forcing myself to stay up and watch the ball drop... and then I can say "Happy New Year, here's to 2010!" before my head hits the pillow and I fall fast asleep.

2009 has come and gone, it has been a year of challenges, surprises and heartbreak. The world has changed very much in this past decade, and I worry about the future for my children and grandchildren. And I wonder what the future will bring, while trying to have hope and think positive thoughts. In the meantime, I wish all of you a very healthy, happy, and prosperous New Year-Happy 2010 everyone!

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Heard from hubby!

After a hectic day of work I managed to sit my butt down for a few seconds and go through coupons before heading out the door to go grocery shopping. As I was checking out deals in the flyer and matching up coupons my house phone rang. Deja, who had been playing her DS answered and her face just beamed with happiness. "Mama, it's papa calling!" and she was so darn excited to hand me the phone she forgot to say hi.

Hubby managed to FINALLY get a hold of me he said, and I couldn't imagine what was up with that, since I do have a cell phone but he called me on the house phone. (apparently calling a landline is cheaper) Then he actually scolded me because he's been trying to call me for a few days and I never answer my phone at work. Lol, these past few days I have been on the phone with so many clients and the LAST place I expected him to call me was at work. But he did, and now I know what all those hangups were these past few days, but you'd think he'd at least leave a message!

You know, I think he called me at work because I told him that I was taking a vacation while HE was on vacation, and that I'd be someplace warm, sitting near a pool having cute little cabana boys bringing me frozen drinks. By calling me at work, he is checking up to make sure that I haven't abandoned my post as domestic goddess and run for the hills in search of a Sex on the Beach. Sigh...but that sounds SO good right now-

Anyways, all is well right now and apparently he misses us. He's been keeping busy building houses with his brother and visiting other relatives while he enjoys nice 75 degree temperatures. I told him I was NOT happy with the 20 below we had last night and that the 3 day rain/snow/ice storm that is coming Fri, Sat and Sun did not have me jumping for joy. But I am glad to know that he is well and keeping busy. Plus I got a nice $10 off my birthday dinner coupon today from Margarita's Mexican Restaurant... (nachos here I come!) so I am taking it as a sign that frozen drinks are in my future, even if the snow is flying outside. ;)

Now I need to spend some time putting groceries away, I can faintly hear the sound of the little leprechaun from Lucky Charms calling me... shhh, don't tell the kids but I bought the Lucky Charms for ME! (and I hid it too!) Have a great night everyone and a SUPER NEW YEAR!

Monday, December 28, 2009

Another day on the merry go round of life...

And yet another snowstorm on the way... this time they're calling for one of EPIC proportions... and lasting three days to boot. Just what I wanted-to ring in the New Year shoveling snow. Tonight it is chilly, well, freezing actually. Supposedly going to get to 20 below, I've got a comforter in hand, and am seriously thinking of making a hot toddy. Nothing like one of those to warm up your veins and get the blood pumping.

Right now my possessed cat is sleeping, I say possessed because that cat has been running through the house for days now, chasing imaginary string or something. I left some paperwork on my bed this morning and came home at 1 to work on it, and my cat had it strewn all over the bed! Believe it or not there was a fly in the house today. Icy cold outdoors and one lone, solitary fly came from who knows where and was buzzing around my bathroom. I have never seen a fly this late in the year, and I knew better than to tell my mom. I knew it would get her started.

And I did. And she did. See, my mom HATES flies. When my dad was alive he loved to have the windows open. And naturally flies would come in. My mom would spend the better part of the afternoon getting some exercise chasing them around the house with a fly swatter. My possessed cat Stubby even lived with my dad, and if I tell him to "Get the bibit" (French slang for bug) he starts searching walls, ceilings and windows looking for insects.

My dad knew how much my mom hated those flies. And he loved to aggravate the hell out of her. I secretly think he liked watching her run around the house all afternoon swatting flies. It gave him time to watch CNN in peace and swear loudly whenever former President Bush would come on-while chain smoking his cigarettes that would ultimately cost him his life.

When he got sick, Mom would tell him if he ever came back and was re-incarnated, never to come back as a fly because he would be a DEAD fly. When he died on Valentine's Day it was hard on all of us, but more so on my mom. Not long thereafter she began telling me the stories: she'd seen a fly land on the shelf in the grocery store just as she was reaching down to get her soda pop, she was planting flowers for Memorial Day and a fly sat on the headstone teasing her, flies started appearing on her window screens and in her car, etc... so naturally when I told her that a fly had shown up in this cold weather and was on the bathroom wall she figured it was my dad who'd come to wish us a Merry Christmas.

When I came home from work my son told me about the fly, and how he'd hit it dead on-and it didn't die. We tried coaxing Stubby into going after it, but he just raised his head and looked at us, he'd had a hard afternoon messing up all my papers and was exhausted. I guess it could have been my dad coming by to say hello for the holidays-but he won't be sticking around for the New Year. My son finally hit the target this evening, and he's gone on to that big strip of fly paper in the sky.

Goodnight Guy, we love you and miss you where ever you are :)

Sunday, December 27, 2009

They Dropped A Bomb On Me!

Okay, I just have to fess up. I mean, I have known it for a couple weeks now, but have not wanted to face it. I am pretty much in a state of shock, disbelief, and have to admit I was praying for it not to be true.

Usually the news of a pregnancy is a wonderful thing. Congratulations are in order and it's an exciting time. When my son's girlfriend got pregnant at 13, had a baby at fourteen, and recently turned 15 this past Fall, I watched two sweet young kids give up the most precious time of their lives to become teen parents. My son just turned 17 in December, and while they should be at school functions, dances, the movies-whatever, they are home taking care of a child.

The girlfriend comes from a very messed up home. Case in point: she was 14, in labor, and her mother left her 15 minutes after I got there to go drink at home. Mom never came back, and I ended up being the one to hold her hand while coaxing her through contractions because my son was a nervous wreck who spent more time in the bathroom puking than in the labor and delivery room. Her older siblings were all removed from the State and from what I assumed, once she quit school in 6th grade she was also headed in that direction. But for whatever reason, they kept her there.

The State knows that she lives with us. They have come in, investigated, and determined all was fine. After the trauma of childbirth was over, things began to get back to normal. And they of course resumed their sex life. I can't say I expected them to stop now that they had a child. But I did discuss prevention and birth control with them. I even called the State trying to help her set up a post partum appointment-and in the meantime she assured me that she was going on the pill since she didn't need to have parental permission to get her birth control pills at the local clinic. The unfortunate thing is that my hands were tied: while the State and everyone knows that she lives with me, her benefits go to her mother because she is a minor. The local Medicaid office understood the situation, but without her mother signing a paper allowing me to make appointments and such, I was shit out of luck. And for her mother, there was no signing anything that might take away any part of her food stamps or welfare benefits.

I knew that the pill was not going to work. Because that is supposedly how she got pregnant the first time. Her mother said she had stopped taking them because "they made her sick." When I questioned her mother as to WHY she would not put her sexually active teen daughter on another form of birth control she just shrugged her shoulders and walked off. Let me explain by saying that my son and this girl have been together on and off for the past four years or so. Her life has not been an easy one and I don't blame her completely, I understand that given the family life she had she was searching for love, but in all the wrong places-and making a baby with someone is not the right way to go about it. She is still just a child herself.

Awhile back she told me that she wanted to go on Mirena, and had mentioned it at one of her appointments. They told her in order to do so, her mother would have to come in and sign some paperwork. Her mother refused to get up off her drunken @$$ to do it, even though she can manage to walk to the store for her 12 pack daily in sleet, snow or ice.

So then, the inevitable happened. They dropped a bomb on me. A second time. They both called me down to the bathroom and my trembling son began explaining what I did not want to hear. How she had missed her period that month and that the pregnancy test that she bought came back positive. Twice. He knew by the look on my face that I was not happy. Their baby is 6 months old now, and they can barely care for him. They yell, fight and are constantly stressed by him. And now, another one was on the way.

I have a feeling that I'll be getting another social services visit soon enough. I've already asked the school to help out, and please get this kid a case worker who can coordinate her medical care and other things she needs to do-because my hands are tied and without her mother's signature I am unable to do anything. It sounds cruel, but I know that she NEEDS this. And it might mean she is removed from the home. But without the state or court involved, I have no rights whatsoever. And she could be spitting out kids every year until she turns 18, and that is not something I could handle. My son knows he failed on his part as well. He knows he should have used protection. But he thought that it couldn't happen so soon after having a baby, and it was only a couple of times. I'm disappointed in both of them, and they know it.

In the meantime, we wait and see what happens. I've always wanted to have grandchildren, but I first wanted my own children to be grown up. And if history repeats itself, Jose and I may be raising babies way into our fifties. Lucky for me he has been understanding about the whole thing-I don't know if I would be if the tables were turned.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays!

Wishing you all a wonderful day with family and friends. Enjoy the great company, food and conversation. My little grandson is 6 months old, and had his holiday photos taken-here's one to share with all my readers.

Here the holidays have been a bit lonely-we'd always visit my dad and my grandmother however they are no longer with us this year. May they rest in peace, and I know in my heart even if we can't see them, that they will always be with us in spirit.

My husband called me yesterday morning, but I was at work. He said to my son that he'd call back, but no call ever came. I'm not worried, I know that the phone lines must be jammed trying to call out from Guatemala. Every year we call his family and we have to try several times as the calls often get dropped or it is just dead air and no dial tone or ringing. Hopefully I will hear from him later today or over the weekend when the call volume isn't so crazy. (I tried to call his mother's house, but there was no answer yesterday, my guess is that they are all celebrating at his brother's new house down the road-and I don't have the brother's new cell number to call).

On another note, my crazy neighbors across the road had a wild Christmas Eve. I was in bed sound asleep at 2 am when my son came running downstairs and told me there was a huge commotion going on across the street. Sure enough, the sounds of yelling and fighting broke the Yuletide silence. At first, I thought the idiots were fighting over Christmas gifts, since their last knock down-drag all altercation was over a cigarette-but apparently one of the young "men" who lived downstairs wanted to hit one the young "lady" who lived upstairs and her brother and stepfather decided to defend her honor. (um, I wonder if they know the couple in question has been sleeping together for months now, lol)

Considering they were all partying together, and there was alcohol and an assortment of other holiday treats available this was bound to happen. The fighting had come out into the street in front of the house and rocks were being thrown, some sort of a metal pole was involved and within minutes police had surrounded the area and called an ambulance. Apparently the young man who wanted to hit the girl ended up having his top lip ripped off-he could be heard screaming "It hurts!" in the back of the ambulance before they carted his sorry @$$ off to the hospital for stitches. This morning, he was sore, and apparently pissed because he couldn't smoke a cigarette. The brother was a bit bruised, but fared much better than the stepfather. He was transferred to the bigger hospital about an hour away so they could reattach his top lip and move his nose back to its correct spot after it was mashed to a pulp and pushed to the side of his face. Yup, Emergency Surgery on Christmas Eve/Day, just my cup of tea. Apparently because he was bigger than the others, and they were just a bit intimidated by his size, he had the pleasure of meeting the metal pole a few times. Ahh, another holiday in the 'hood.

For now it is quiet... there is peace and harmony. The presents have been opened, and Santa has visited all the good little boys and girls. Those that were naughty, well, they're recovering nicely from what I've been told. I'm sure the painkillers are helping as well. After all, a swift recovery is very important-New Year's Eve is about a week away!

Sunday, December 20, 2009

When a Stranger Calls...

It started out like a bad teen really did. Hubby was at work, and the rest of us were fast asleep after watching SyFy monster movies (albeit last night's was pretty stupid, but oh well). Actually, the kids were watching a different movie than I was, something on HBO about some disturbed teenager that goes around killing people. I could tell it was a creepy movie by the adrenaline in Tiffany's voice as she quickly described the "awesome" movie they were watching when she came downstairs to go to the bathroom. But, they refused to CHANGE THE CHANNEL. So there they sat, getting freaked out before going to bed.

Even before the stupid movie ended, I had struggled to stay awake, at least to watch the ending of the movie. But the Sand Man had other plans for me, and I drifted off while enjoying the huge waterbed all to myself. I was actually in the middle of a good dream, I can recall it having something to do with winning the lottery and being photographed holding that huge check with a big smile on my face... Before I had a chance to continue the dream and spend that lottery money, I could hear a phone ringing in the distance. My cell phone had been taken by hubby who needed it for work... so I guessed correctly when I figured out that it was the house cordless phone that the kids had taken upstairs earlier.

The phone rang and rang, and I wondered who was calling. I strained my neck to check out the time on the clock sitting on my headboard and it was shortly before midnight... I'd probably been asleep a little under an hour. I thought it might have been my husband, or my mother, but usually they wouldn't call unless it was an WAS late, after all. Then I thought perhaps it was Tiffany's mom, calling because she'd had too many beers and wanted to talk. But I figured since she'd been drinking all day, she was probably passed out by that time. Or it could have been some lonely person, their mind riddled with drugs and alcohol hoping for a late night booty call.

I heard my son sleepily say into the phone: "Hello..." and then silence. He then threw the phone at his girlfriend Tiffany who yelled at him to "Watch it!" and after listening a few minutes herself began asking who it was, what did they want, etc... By then, I was wide awake and in mom alert mode. As I was heading towards the bedroom door Tiffany came running downstairs with my son holding the baby close behind her. By then, they'd become loud and excited...and very scared. I asked them what had happened and they told me that some woman had called screaming bloody murder. Literally. She said there was so much blood, and it hurt, and to please HELP her. The kids tried to get her name and address but to no avail. After screaming for a bit more and realizing that she had the wrong number she hung up. The kids came running downstairs completely freaked out. They thought she was being murdered. Or worse. Was hiding from a killer in a closet. Or was in labor. Calmly, I told Tiffany to dial *69 and she did, getting the phone number. She then tried to call back, and there was no answer.

My son was trembling and proceeded to lock all the doors in the house AND turn the lights on. There was no way he was going to sleep with the lights off. I just knew it would be a long night... Tiffany called the police dept. and told them of the call, giving them the number we'd traced by *69. They told her they'd send someone out to check on it... my son was convinced we'd see a murder in the newspaper today, and that he'd received the call from the person being murdered asking for help.

Hubby came home around three am. To a house full of lights, the TV on, and me semi-awake after just telling the kids to go back upstairs and go to bed. No, they could NOT sleep with me. Even if my bed was comfortable. I sleepily explained to hubby what had happened and fell asleep almost immediately. So did the kids...

This morning Demetrio was up bright and early checking the internet and newspaper. Nothing. He told Tiffany to call the number this morning to see what happened. And she did. And she said a man answered. She didn't say anything, just listened for a moment and then hung up. And then told me that he sounded like he was extremely hung over.

I still wonder what happened-if she was drunk, on drugs, had cut herself, etc... We will probably never know. But at least we tried, and I was impressed that the kids thought enough to call the police dept. thinking someone was in trouble. Even if it was a false alarm, the next time it happens it might not be. In the meantime, I will be keeping the phone downstairs with me...and hoping it doesn't ring again in the middle of the night anytime soon.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Happy 17th Birthday Demetrio!

Today my son Demetrio is 17. It's amazing how time flies and how quickly he went from holding mommy's hand to independent, grown up (well, at least SOME of the time!) teen dad.

Yes, he's a dad. His son Demetrio Jr. is 6 months now. He and his on and off girlfriend thought that by having a baby, things would get easier. Sadly, they now realize that there is a lot of responsibility on them as teen parents. No more hanging out with their friends, sleepless nights, spending money they get for themselves on diapers instead of the latest electronic gizmo, and spending their last buck on a jar of baby food because they ran out.

I wish I could say that my dreams of watching my son graduate, play sports and do all sorts of wonderful things with his life would come true. Instead, my firstborn has substance abuse issues, is barely passing school, and has anxiety, ADHD and other mental health issues. His girlfriend pretty much has the same issues going on for herself at 15. It's hard enough being a parent when you have your shit together, and even harder when you don't. That's why they live with me. Now, instead of dreams and aspirations for his future, we take it day by day. Each day can be a bit of a struggle, or it can be a huge accomplishment.

I struggled with this a long, long time. And after family therapy finally realized that I didn't fail as a parent. I read all the books, did all the counseling, and tried to lay down the law. And then I watched him fall. And I wanted to pick him up by the hand and tell him it would be alright, but I didn't. Now, THAT was hard. But it had to be done. He's come a long way since then, perhaps he has learned from his mistakes now. And with his son, I only hope that he continues to set a good example.

I'm proud of him and of the progress he has made. Sad because of all we have gone through as a family to get him to where he is now. And hopeful that one day he will look back on these past few years and realize how extremely difficult it had been at times, while continuing to grow into a mature adult and successful young man.

Happy 17th birthday my son, may your day be blessed with good wishes, positive thoughts and lots of love and support from friends and family.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

A Maine Winter is (s) NO (w) place for me!

sigh... it's winter in Maine. I still can't believe that just a few months ago I took this photo down by the coast when I could see the ground (now it's covered in that WHITE stuff, ugh!) and it was warmer... today we actually had a heat wave, with temperatures in the 30's. But tonight, it's back to cold temps, black ice and watching the oil in my tank dwindle down to nothing in the next couple of days.

I hate winter, I really do. I used to love it as a kid, making snow angels and playing with friends-we loved to make snow forts and have huge snowball fights. And the sliding was awesome, I can still remember the blue saucer I had that took me down the hill at lightning speed-and ending up at the traffic jam at the bottom amid a myriad of boots, mittens and tangled little bodies. Back then it was FUN to crash into your friends (or foes!) at the bottom of the hill and take them out just as they were struggling to get up from the icy pathway made by the sleds of all shapes and sizes. And when it rained and froze over, watch out, glare ice!

I used to love catching snowflakes on my tongue and gaze in wonder at their beauty as they fell from the dreary, overcast skies. Now I gaze at them and curse (not so silently, by the way) about how I am going to have to drive in this #$&*#%^* crap! And albeit as hard as I tried, I never could find two snowflakes that were alike... now, they all look the same to (as I shovel them from the walkway)

My mind, (and arthritic obese body as well) yearn for the sun, warmth, and pleasant temperatures of another place. The only slush I want to see is the Vodka Slush I will be drinking as I gaze upon palm trees gently blowing in the breeze. Winter in Maine is no fun... and then after, we have Mud Season. Around Mid May things start to pick up again, and the warmer breezes and smell of Spring finally hit us full force. Sure, we may have a day or two in March that will act as a teaser; with 70 degree temperatures and full sunshine. But the next day, Old Man Winter returns and gives us the classic Nor'Easter with a foot of snow and blizzard conditions.

Right now I am hating my husband. His passport came and he heads off to Guatemala (where it is SUMMER by the way) for about 3 weeks. I have to stay here, hold down the fort, and work. My teen son doesn't know how to operate the snow blower and I have visions of him blowing snow all over the yard next door. I am hoping for good weather and no snow, but in Maine, in the middle of winter, I know I am shit out of luck on that one.

Maybe, just maybe-I can send my wish to Santa. Tell him to take it easy on the snow and ice until hubby gets back. Stock up on groceries in the meantime... and know that Papa John's will still deliver even if I won't venture past my front porch. And I will bake, and play Yahtzee, and blog, and watch scary movies... and read a few good books-as I settle down and deal with winter here in Maine. After all, watching the snow fall can be long as you're not driving in it!

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

It's snowing and I need a laugh today!

my co-worker Judy sent me this email joke and thought I'd share it with the rest of you! I can definitely think of a few categories that I fall into, lol!

What Religion is a Bra?

A man walked into the ladies department of a Macy's and shyly walked up to the woman behind the counter and said, 'I'd like to buy a bra for my wife...'

'What type of bra?' asked the clerk.

'Type?' inquires the man, 'There's more than one type?'

'Look around,' said the saleslady, as she showed a sea of bras in every shape, size, color and material imaginable.

'Actually, even with all of this variety, there are really only four types of bras to choose.'

Relieved, the man asked about the types.

The saleslady replied:
'There are the Catholic, the Salvation Army, the Presbyterian, and the Baptist types. Which one would you prefer?'

Now totally befuddled, the man asked about the differences between them.

The Saleslady responded, 'It is all really quite simple... '

The Catholic type supports the masses.
The Salvation Army type lifts the fallen,
The Presbyterian type keeps them staunch and upright, and
The Baptist makes mountains out of mole hills.

Have you ever wondered why A, B, C, D, DD, E, F, G, and H are the letters used to define bra sizes?
If you have wondered why, but couldn't figure out what the letters stood for, it is about time you became informed!

(A} Almost Boobs....
{B} Barely there.
{C} Can't Complain!
{D} Dang!
{DD} Double dang!
{E} Enormous!
{F} Fake.
{G} Get a Reduction.
{H} Help me, I've fallen and I can't get up!

Monday, December 7, 2009

Hmm, Where's that Passport...

Hubby wanted to go home to visit his mom and siblings this year in Guatemala. Because of my work schedule, I couldn't take the time off, but I told him he could go. I purchased his ticket months ago for December 23rd, so he would arrive in time to surprise his mother. He hasn't been home for a good old fashioned Guatemalan Christmas since he left there about 15 years ago...he usually goes down for Easter which is also a pretty big holiday too. Plus I wanted him to take photos of the posadas and other decorations they have along with eat some yummy tamales for me too...

He went to the Guatemalan consulate to renew his passport (he has to get a Guatemalan passport since he is only a permanent resident here) and they took his money WAY back at the end of September, and still nothing. I had read online that there was some sort of a problem with the passport company that handles processing for Guatemalans here in the US, and that due to delay they would not get passports before Christmas, but he didn't believe me. Well, I think he is now starting to. To make it worse, he can't find his receipt or even REMEMBER if they gave him one.

So now I am faced with having to call Continental and cancel his non-refundable ticket and find out what other options are out there for us. I can say that if we can reschedule it for the late Spring early Summer we can all go, and they will get our business and a couple of more tickets purchased as well-if they are willing to work with me on this issue.

In the meantime, hubby is bummed because he won't be eating mama's tamales this holiday. And asking a gringa like me to make tamales is like asking a French chef to make French fries, lol. It just ain't gonna happen. Heck, I can't even make him a decent tortilla. But I can buy him a Big Mac... (knowing our luck I will cancel the flight and the next day the passport will show up!)

To make matters worse, he rolled his truck this past weekend during our first real snowstorm. He was tired and combined with the wet, icy and snowy road conditions and perhaps a bit of liquid happiness as well, he managed to total it. Serves him right, I told him he should have just slept on the couch at his friends house that evening but he insisted he wanted to come home to go to bed. He'd worked the night before and left early Sat. morning to help his friend move all day, afterwards the guys got together and had some food and a few beers... the snow that had been falling began to fall even harder, and according to the news there were more than 1500 accidents that night. That is a whole heck of a lot of cars going off the road... lucky for him, he was going slowly and didn't get hurt. But maybe next time he will think about doing something stupid. No beers, no driving when tired and staying put in a snowstorm if the road conditions are hazardous.

Tonight he has gone to work in my car...and I have threatened him with an early grave if he so much as puts a dent in it. Wouldn't you know we have had some snow, just enough to grease up the roads and give it a bit of black ice too...

No passport, and now no vehicle... guess he should have listened to the wife!