Oh, the Things That Make Me Happy.

I'm not even sure I should apologize for bragging, because this isn't all that impressive, but please accept my apology for the shameless brag.

My sister's been driving my uncle's well-loved (to the tune of 135,000 miles or so) Infiniti while she's in town. In case you didn't know, Infiniti is made by Nissan, which makes it a fine car in my book. And this one runs well, considering its age and mileage. It has some mad cool vintage touches, like an enormous phone, permanently mounted on the floor between the front seats, and a clock with actual hands. For some reason, you have to push a special button on the ignition to get the key out. I like that; it gives the car character.

Anyhow, the other day she came home and informed me she wouldn't be able to make her planned road trip to Charleston that night because there was something wrong with the Infiniti, which I could see, because the something wrong was hanging off the bottom. She hadn't planned on driving the antique car to Charleston, but my dad was planning on driving it all weekend and letting her take his (ever so slightly) newer Buick*. She didn't think it was fair to leave dad without a car, because he's a real estate agent and they make money by driving people around and looking at houses. If they can't drive, they can't work. Except for the time my workaholic dad had had a gastrointestinal "procedure" and decided to take my brother-in-law and sister-in-law out anyway. He couldn't drive, on account of the pain killers, so he made them drive while he drooled in the passenger seat. It was cool, though. My brother-in-law happens to be a gastroenterologist, so it didn't bother him in the least.

When I was in high school, I drove a fine car, my Nana's 1981 Dodge St. Regis. It was such a great car that they only made them from 1979 to 1981, because the world just couldn't take that much awesomeness. The seats were like La-Z-Boy chairs, cushiony and velour. One day, I was coasting in the Dodge and I heard a loud clunk. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a large piece of flat metal behind me that I knew had not been there a moment before. I pulled over, retrieved the piece of metal and drove directly to a gas station. One of the fine employees there asked me if I was "real attached to this thang," holding up the piece of metal. I said, "Um...no?" and he threw it in the trash can and told me to have a nice day, which I did. I might not have even told my parents, for fear that they would declare the car undriveable. Armed with this knowledge and a roll of duct tape, I felt sure I could fix my uncle's car.

As it turned out, I didn't have any duct tape, because my kids are always stealing whatever tape I buy. I don't know what they do with it, but I never see it again. So I called for some string, which the X-Man had in his room. While my sister explained to the X-Man who MacGyver was, I shimmied under the car, after checking to see if the emergency brake was on, of course. I used two pieces of string to re-affix the hanging metal thingy to the bottom of the car. I made my sister hum the theme to the A-Team, because neither of us could remember the MacGyver theme. When I was finished, I went inside and finished making enough coconut pecan bars** for all of my children's teachers, our neighbors and anyone who invites us over before Christmas. I am a woman of many talents. Ahem.

Today, my sister took the car in to be officially fixed, by an actual mechanic. It is with great (probably disproportionate) pride that I tell you this: He ended up performing the same repair, but with metallic twist ties. In my defense, I also wanted to use metal and briefly searched for picture-hanging wire, but I couldn't find any. And that is why I feel pretty darn clever today.

Namasté, y'all!

* By the way, y'all, my Dad's Buick Park Avenue is old and he wants a new one, but they don't make them and he doesn't like the replacement. He can't decide what to get, so he keeps trying to polish the old Buick. If you can suggest a new car for him, I know he would appreciate it.

** I apologize for not providing the recipe, because they're very good. In fact, they are the only thing that keeps my kids from getting thrown out of school, because the teachers look forward to them. I'm not ready to share the recipe, but I will tell you that it's from a book, which I didn't know when my friend gave me the recipe. She used to sell them in her restaurant, which closed, and I had to have the recipe. They are so yummy.