New Rule

Jared and I instituted a new rule a couple of weeks ago. Our Valentine's gift to each other, to try for a month. Our rule is this:

No computers or television if we are home together.

This means that when Jared comes home from work, our computers stay off, and we have nothing to entertain ourselves but each other. Let me tell you... it is sooooooo haaaaaaard to do! Surprisingly so! I had no idea how often I get on this darn thing. I've become so accustomed to having the constant stimulation and entertainment of my laptop that I effectively have zero tolerance for boredom. I always have to be doing something, reading something, working on something, looking up something, etc. That first night I was shocked at how many times I automatically had the thought to check my computer/email/reader/blog/news/weather/etc. It would happen multiple times within a single 60 seconds, because apparently when my brain isn't sufficiently stimulated, it just automatically thinks of that. Weird. And scary.

So here's the really good thing that comes of this so far: Jared and I are forced to have a relationship. It's so easy to pass each other by at home. It's not like we have enough time to really plan activities together in the evenings, and so we tended to fill our inbetween minutes with computering. And once the computers weren't an option, and that started to sink in, we became bored enough that we actually started having conversations. I mean, it's not that we didn't converse before, but Jared made the comment that he thinks we talked more that first night than we had all month. It was actually pretty funny.

So, anyway, the rule is likely to stick, because I think it's doing good things for our family. In the meantime, you've probably noticed that I haven't been blogging much. I really don't have much time during the day for stuff like that (I can't even keep up with my email right now), so the blogging has fallen by the wayside. Hopefully I'll find ways to keep squeezing it in here and there. But I guess this is my plea to be patient with me if I don't comment on your blogs as much as I used to and don't seem to keep up as well. Sometimes first things have to come first I guess.

My Life as an Auto Mechanic

A friend of mine just made a post about working on her own car. Unusual for a chick, right? But I used to be a do-it-yourself-er myself. In high school, I drove my brothers 1963 Dodge Dart while he was on a mission. When the starter went out I learned how to get under the hood and use a wrench to connect the points while pulling the gas line with the other hand and get it started. Some hot guys at youth conference were seriously impressed, which got me thinking I should do more of this stuff. So for the next several years I regularly changed my own oil and brake pads. I gave my car its own tune-up in college, replacing spark plugs (including gapping them) and wires, fuel and air filters, etc. I even changed my own starter once, arms blackened to the elbows in the driveway of my house across the street from BYU campus.

But three years ago I married a guy who, despite having an engineering degree and a meticulous mind, just doesn't do work on his own car. Instead he prefers to have a new-ish car that has things like a "diagnostic computer" and an engine full of ridiculous amounts of wires and parts that requires professional maintenance. Within 6 months of our wedding he replaced my "much-loved" (totally falling-apart) 1987 Subaru with a shiny red 1999 Outback. Bless him. Since then I've brought my car to Oil Can Henry's when it needs a change. I have bought 4 brand new tires simultaneously (instead of one at a time, used). My car has mysteriously not needed any major work since we bought it (how is this possible? My last car needed something every couple months).

Two days ago I had to replace my windshield wiper. I went into the auto parts store and, much to my embarrassment, I couldn't remember the first thing about how to find the right one or even get them on and off my car. I stood there for some time trying to jog my memory. Eventually I had to go up to the counter and ask for help, and an employee did it all for me (a girl, mind you, much younger than me). I wanted to tell them all about my past mechanical know-how, and how it was really cool, for a girl, to know how to do all that stuff. I wanted to say, "I know I seem retarded right now, but I am really actually totally smart and mechanically-abled. I totally know how to work on a car. Or, er, at least I used to." But of course I didn't say that, and they all just thought I was a dumb, helpless, yuppie mom. Which, I guess, I am.

(p.s. the pictures are a catalogue of all the cars I've driven in my lifetime: 1967 Dodge Van, 1963 Dodge Dart, 1981 Honda Accord, 1987 Subaru Wagon, 1999 Subaru Outback)