Wouldn't you know it, the very SECOND I open my gaping pie-hole about owning up to my responsibilities as an adult, I get tested. I don't believe in any kind of karma or universal smack down in general, but I do find it quite funny (and not in a "not unless clowns are funny" kind of way) that right when I tell the world (OK, when I tell you, Mom, and you, Unnamed Visitor #2) via my blog that I am growing up and kicking some Elvis-style-TCB ass, my car decides to go on strike.
Yes, 11 year old cars have a tendency to do this. And yes, I've kind of shirked some of my car owner responsibilities as of late, too (shocking, right?), so it's really not much of a surprise that it's my turn to have to deal with the unpleasantness of bending over for a mechanic.
Because I'm still teenager sitting (more on my fabulous weekend of zero sleep, Facebook status feed Olympic spoilers and stress-induced nerve damage later) I totally lucked out and happened to have said teenager's dad's car in the garage for my use. It does alleviate the pressure of having to pay for a rental on top of what I expect will be a pretty grotesque bill, so I've got that going for me, which is nice. But I really freaked out to myself when I initially sat in my car and it did nothing but grind and moan and tell me it was officially done with my ass.
Like a child, I've anticipated a trip to the mechanic for some time but I had not planned for such a likelihood. In fact, I haven't been able to renew my registration because the check engine light has been on for like nine months and that's an automatic fail on my smog test. Which means that I've been dodging cops left and right and have gotten something like five parking tickets in the process. Very mature. Also like a child, I've had no AAA or roadside assistance but knew with every fiber of my being that I probably wouldn't bother to take it in until it exploded (it HAS exploded before, by the way). I think this is mostly because I'd rather buy shoes and all-clad pots. But now, because of my big mouth proclaiming that I had entered what can only be described as Adult Responsibility Puberty (I'm waiting for my voice to change or to get an ill-timed erection while climbing the ropes in PE), I am forced to use my powerful skills of problem solving and deal with my shit.
So I joined AAA. And then I researched non-dealership mechanics, something a normal person would know to do but I did not, and I called a tow truck and came clean with the mechanic about how badly I have abused my poor, under appreciated and overworked car.
And you know what? As much as I am very sad to part with the scant cash I had in the first place, I feel like I have actually accomplished something other than making an 18 year old boy cry in a not good kind of way.
So I guess today is kind of a win so far. Of course I haven't gotten the bill (or proclamation of my car's sad death) yet, so this is all subject to change. But I've got tomatoes in a bowl, arugula in the fridge and another day of a borrowed pool and I'm going to take advantage of these things in a big, bad kind of way.
Jenni Jihad and Innercity Velvet are coming by to lounge with me and my Teen Terror's dad left me a couple of bottles of champagne and I'm whipping up some simple bruschetta and then drinking my face off. Just like a responsible adult.
Because when the Teen Terror gets home I have to tell him it's time to grow up...
simple bruschetta
serves 4
ingredients
french baguette
4-5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
salt, to taste
2 garlic cloves, 1 peeled and 1 peeled and minced, divided
4 medium heirloom tomatoes, coarsely chopped
3 tablespoons basil, torn or shredded
2 tablespoons red wine, sherry or port vinegar (could also splash a little balsamic, if desired)
freshly ground pepper
burrata (ricotta is also a nice substitute)
preparation
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Slice baguette into one 3/4 inch pieces and lay on baking sheet. Using a brush, coat each slice on both sides with enough of the olive oil to saturate. Sprinkle with sea salt or kosher salt and place in oven for 5 minutes or until toasts begin to brown around the edges. Remove from the oven and as soon as the toasts are cool enough to handle, rub both sides with the peeled garlic (it will almost melt into the bread)
Place chopped tomato in a large bowl, sprinkle with salt and add 3 tablespoons of olive oil. Vigorously stir the tomato to emulsify in the olive oil. Add minced garlic, vinegar, basil and pepper, stir again and adjust for taste.
Spoon tomato mix onto toasts and top with burrata
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Enjoy your day, wherever you are and whatever you're doing and...
Soup on!