—

I was a “late bloomer” when it came to getting my driver’s license. I remember Ex # 1 attempting to teach me how to drive his ’88 Merkur stick-shift when I was 16, but I discovered just how much I lack the coordination required to drive a stick shift (why hello thar Mr. Clutch! Am I supposed to step on you now? *vehicle stalls*). So I didn’t get my license until we moved to Phoenix in 2004, after I turned 18. Basically, my parents decided that I needed to drive, so they got me driving lessons, and in August of 2004, I was licensed. My first car was an ’85 Mercury Cougar. When we bought it, it had 35,000 original miles on it, and I loved it (and believe me, I missed it when it was gone, but that’s another story for another day).

But I digress.

Having my own vehicle and a license to drive it was liberating for me. I was able to get places, which is typically the reason for having such things, yes? Of course. Well, you don’t really realize just how much you miss those things until you don’t have them anymore.

Before I left Phoenix for Indiana to live with Mr. Fox, I had given up the piece of crap Grand Marquis that Ex #2 talked me into buying (he was a cab driver, and he had wanted it to become a cab). So by the time Mr. Fox and I moved in together, we had no vehicle, and relied on the shitty public transportation system that is IndyGo in Indianapolis, in addition to the kindness of our landlord for grocery shopping outings. Needless to say, this became old FAST. Sometime later in 2008, we had the opportunity to “purchase” a janky ’85 Ford Ranger. It got us from A to B, and since Mr. Fox wasn’t licensed at the time, I was the only one driving it. Once that went to shit, we had the niceness of my parents who took us grocery shopping every couple weeks.

In September 2009, we purchased a used Chrysler Town and Country, which was wonderful. And it helped us out a lot when we moved to the apartment. Unfortunately, the transmission decided to go in March 2011, and we were without a vehicle again. Thankfully, we were still on a bus route, so it wasn’t *too* bad. One of our friends was gracious enough to gift us a 2000 Nissan Xterra (they were going to trade it in, but decided we were more deserving of it) in May 2011, and that worked well until it decided to start crapping out on us, so off to Carmax it went. During a brief existential crisis after the death of Mr. Fox’s father, we decided to take the proceeds of the Xterra and some other money we had and lay it down on a seemingly cute and harmless red 1999 VW Beetle. And thanks to a swindling car dealer and car repair shop, the Bug didn’t last very long. Note to self: do not drive over tall manhole covers in a car that has a 4″ clearance. You *will* tear your transmission pan.

I do have to thank the Town and Country though, because if it weren’t for it’s death, we wouldn’t have had the opportunity to rent the 2011 Kia Forte that we ultimately fell in love with. I also have to thank the Bug for dying as well, because if it hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been able to buy our 2010 Kia Forte.

Well, I went on a tangent there, didn’t I? I had a point here somewhere…

Oh yes.

When Mr. Fox and I moved to Philly, I had only driven in Phoenix, Las Vegas and Indianapolis. In retrospect, those areas are not terribly urban. So when it came to driving in Philly, I was afraid. I mean, so afraid that I left all the driving to the husband. He lived there his whole life (minus 8 years), and he knew the area more than I. I had no problems driving in the suburbs, but our neighborhood is very congested and full of one-way streets, and don’t even get me started on the downtown area. So I could take Mr. Fox to work and drive around Horsham, Plymouth Meeting and the surrounding areas, but I was so afraid to drive in our own neighborhood, that I just *didn’t*. Also, our driveway behind the house is at a 45 degree angle, with a brick wall behind it. So I have to maneuver my way in and out of the driveway without hitting the wall or sliding into our garage door.

On our recent trip back to Indiana to visit my parents, I was happy to drive the entire time we were there. It felt wonderful to drive long distances again, and even seemingly insignificant trips to the store and gas station made me happy. Little did I know that, as soon as we would return back to Philly, Mr. Fox told me that I would be driving. I was like, say what?

Well hey, what do you know? I survived. I didn’t break the car, and I didn’t back into the brick wall, and I didn’t slide into the garage door. The only things I haven’t done yet is drive on Roosevelt Blvd, which is an experience in and of itself. I am weary of driving on the Blvd because of all the accidents that occur there. Eventually I will get there. Going to take baby steps though, because I don’t need to get us killed, you know?

So you’re probably wondering why this post is titled the way it is? Well, it’s simple. I had to get over my initial fears to be able to drive in our neighborhood, with all it’s obstacles, and it kinda feels like the first time I learned to drive.

I’ll get there eventually.

driving philadelphia urban philly cars neighborhood kia forte

This post, feels like the first time, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Have I ever told you how much I dislike going there? It’s not that the food is bad necessarily, it’s just that, well, it’s a novelty that I’ve grown to dislike. In the beginning, it was love, mainly because we lived in a town that was not really burger-diverse. Now it’s just, well, when I see the familiar red and white, my stomach hurts.

I used to live with the parents in Las Vegas and Phoenix, and was spoiled with In-n-Out Burger. If you’ve never been there, it’s amazing. Well, to me anyway. It was the first time I had experienced the “flat burger patty”, and that, combined with the greasy cheesy goodness and “burger sauce” was just enough to keep me coming back over and over again. That and the fries of course. The fries. Oh. My. God. Salty potato-y goodness right there.

Anyway, I digress.

There was a time when I thought that Five Guys trumped even In-N-Out. Granted, that’s back when I wasn’t guilty of eating their normal bacon cheeseburger and half of a large fry (split between me and the husband. Have you gotten an order of fries from Five Guys before? When you order a large, you’re actually getting the equivalent of two of their large fry cups. They fill one and dump the other in on top. Same goes for their regular order. One does not need that many fries! Also, have you ever noticed that if you’ve eaten too many of their fries, you start to have a weird aftertaste?

Not to mention that the food at Five Guys is absolutely horrible for you. I don’t know what’s in the meat, I don’t know where it comes from. Who knows if there’s any pink slime in there. All I know is that it tastes like a greasy hamburger. Probably my biggest complaint is the number of calories. I don’t like feeling like I have to fast for two days in order to eat there, or go to the gym for five hours afterwards. I always get the Little Bacon Cheeseburger when I eat there, which is 630 calories as is, with no additional toppings. And then the fries. Oh lord. Their regular fries are 620, so if you split them it’s 310. But still. almost 1000 calories on one meal is more than half of my daily intake.

Yeah, they might be tasty, but I think they’re overrated. I’ve had much better burgers, one of which being Elevation Burger, which I will be doing a review of for The Burger Bar soon.

What do you guys think? Do you prefer the greasy Five Guys or something else?

five guys overrated greasy fattening burgers french fries

This post, five guys is overrated, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Anyway.

So today’s prompt:

Prompt A: Talk about breaking someone else’s heart, or having your own heart broken.

I may actually have to write about both prompts today. I feel like I’m in a good mood and want to write, seeing as my to-do list for the day is rather small.

[hr]

When I was in 7th grade, I lived in Las Vegas. Well, technically it was Henderson, which is right outside of Las Vegas. My neighborhood was just re-zoned for a different middle school, so now I was about to start school at my 4th middle school (sixth grade I started at a magnet school, then left and went to my zoned school, and then we moved to Henderson mid-year).

I remember it like it was yesterday. I had to do a 6 week period of Spanish, and sitting right next to me was a nerdy boy named Mark. He’s actually the one I mentioned in this post. Anyway, he was goofy and adorable, and I had a HUGE crush on him. He was also very smart, and sometimes I wondered if he was too smart for me. He always wore J.Crew shirts and had his head in a book. But when we got to Spanish class, all bets were off. We would totally goof off. He would pass me notes that were written in code, and I would have to decode them. I loved those notes! One in particular, was asking me if I wanted to go with him to hang out at Barnes and Noble.

A date! To the bookstore, which at the time, was only my favorite place to go. I was a bit of a bookworm back then.

Of course I said yes.

And it was everything a date to Barnes and Nobles should be. We stayed there for almost 8 hours, drinking caramel frappucinos, reading books, giggling at Calvin & Hobbes together, and playing chess. We did this a few times actually, and all times were equally as enjoyable as the last. I really really liked him (well, as much as a 7th grader could), and I believe Mark liked me as well.

That spring, he asked me to go with him to the Renaissance Faire. I was elated, and it was so much fun! Even though we were basically being followed around by his dad, because he took us there. Mark bought me one of those flowery headband thingies, as well as a piece of jewelry, which I will talk about later.

And that was that. I am not sure what happened. At the end of the year, he stopped talking to me, and we stopped hanging out together. At the time, I wasn’t sure what I had done wrong, but I am reasonably sure it was the fact that my friend Megan decided to keep calling him to find out if he liked me.

I was very hurt.

All through eighth grade, he would avoid me like the plague. Granted, I was always with my friends, but still. Even when I was alone, I would say hello and he’d ignore me. It was very frustrating and upsetting. But I was your typical boy crazy eighth grader, and I didn’t really let it phase me.

That is, until the end of the school year. My family decided they wanted to move to Indiana, so after the school year was over, I was leaving. I remember one day in particular, that I was in the counselor’s office bitching again (I did this often), and for one reason or another, I had stormed out of the office in tears. That year, Mark was a student aid, and he saw me storm out. I was on my way back to english class, and I heard someone call out my name. I turned around, and there was Mark. We just stood there for a minute in silence. Finally, he said, “Cryssy (my nickname at the time), I’m sorry you have to move.” I don’t remember what I said, but we stood there for a minute again and then he turned and went back to his post. And I just stood there. I could feel the tears on my cheeks as I stood there in silence.

That’s when I knew my heart was broken. I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was going to ask me to the eighth grade dance. Then I thought, well, why the hell didn’t I ask him?!

[hr]

Fast forward to 2006.

I was living in Arizona, and was married to The Dark One. I decided one day that I would try and reconnect with Mark, so I found him on Myspace. We talked about how things ended 6 years earlier, and why they happened the way they happened. I spent many nights on the phone with him while The Dark One was at work, and it was rather comforting. Yeah, I was going around The Dark One’s back to talk to Mark, but I didn’t care.

So on one of our random trips up to Vegas, I decided to meet up with Mark to catch up. The years had made him very handsome, but he still had that geeky quality about him. We talked. And it was good to see him after so long. When he came to meet me, he brought with him the piece of jewelry he bought for me at the Ren Faire. It was a serpent pendant. I can’t remember whether he had never given it to me and held onto it, or if he had given it to me and I gave it back to him. Regardless, he had kept it, and gave it to me that night.

And then we had another falling out. I said some pretty horrible things, and he returned the sentiment. I deleted him off Myspace and haven’t spoken to him since. That was in 2007. So, 5 or so years. I just sent him an add request on Facebook this morning, so we’ll see if he responds to it. I won’t hold my breath. On the off chance he does, I just want to see how he’s doing and what he’s been up to.

We’ll see.

scintilla project day ten heartbreaker love relationships life

This post, #scintilla day ten – heartbreaker, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Today’s #scintilla prompt:

Prompt A: Talk about a time when you got away with it.

—–

In February of 2006, I met The Dark One. Well, his name is actually Brandon, but for blogging purposes, his name will hence-forth remain The Dark One. We met at the bowling alley, when our mutual friend Ian (whom I talked about here) inadvertently introduced us to each other. Well, that was it. That fateful meeting was all we needed to jumpstart the whirlwind mess of a relationship (and subsequent failed marriage) we had.

We went bowling a lot. I guess if there’s one thing I can thank The Dark One for, it’s my love of bowling (although truthfully, I haven’t been in forever, and need to replace my custom bowling balls and shoes, eventually). There was one day in particular, that we were bowling at the Christown AMF lanes in Phoenix, and he was kicking my butt as usual. I am not sure how the topic of conversation came up, but we were talking about the unfortunate fact that Phoenix doesn’t have a bowling alley open 24 hours. I mean, what could be better? In my experience, bowling at 3am is awesome. And the only place I knew without a doubt, for a fact, that had a 24 hour bowling alley, was in Las Vegas, which was 5 hours away.

I brought this up casually, thinking, oh yeah, we can’t go to Vegas to go bowling. We’ve been dating all of about two weeks (if that, I can’t even remember). Little did I know that a mere three hours later, we would be on a five hour road trip to the City of Sin, just to go bowling at the 24 hour bowling alley at The Orleans. This would be the first of MANY trips up there, but those are another story entirely.

Normally I cannot keep secrets from my mom, and she knew, as soon as I called to check in at 2am to tell her I was going cosmic bowling and staying at a friends house, that something was up. At that point, I didn’t even care if she figured it out (she found out when we got back), because I was having so much fun. I just randomly drove (well, he drove, because I can’t drive a stick) 5 hours to Vegas to go bowling with my boyfriend of two weeks!

When you’re young and stupid, you have a skewed outlook on life. You think that you can get away with anything and it won’t affect those around you. But you’re actually quite wrong. In doing what I was doing with The Dark One, I was actually hurting three people at once. One, my recently separated-with husband at the time (that’s right, our divorce wasn’t final yet at that point), and two, the guy I was seeing before I met The Dark One. Oh and three, Ian, but we always had issues with that. At the time, I didn’t care, because I just wanted to live life and have fun.

So I guess you could say that, on this stupid little trip up to Vegas, I got away with a lot of things. None of which I am very proud of NOW, because I know better NOW. Life experience has taught me that you can’t get away with everything. There will always be consequences, and you need to be prepared for them.

What’s that saying? Oh, yeah. If I knew then, what I know now, things would be different. But I can’t guarantee that, had things been different, that my life would be the same. So let’s just chalk it up to mistakes made and lessons learned. My mantra for everything.

scintilla day five spontaneity las vegas bowling dark one

This post, #scintilla day five – spontaneity, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

No, I’m just kidding about that. Unfortunately, New Jersey has a stigma for being called dirty, or that the entire state is a landfill. That’s not true, though there are a lot of landfills in New Jersey.

I digress.

So, yeah, I grew up in New Jersey, in a small town called East Windsor. Near there was a town called Hightstown, and it was your quintessential small town. Lake in the middle, main street with a pharmacy, little shops, the most delicious Chinese restaurant (that is still there actually), among other things. Most people knew each other, and most people had several generations stay there over time. We got out of there in 1996, but a lot of my friends from elementary school are still there. Not that there’s anything wrong with that of course.

Last week, I had the opportunity to attend my best friend’s daughter’s 4th birthday party. You may remember the super cute hat that I made for her. Well, it just so happens that the party became a reunion of sorts, because I got to see good friends I haven’t seen since 4th grade. I haven’t seen Sam since 2001, and I haven’t seen Jackie or Cara since 1996. So in actuality, the last time we were all together was 4th grade, right before we moved to Las Vegas. You can imagine how amazing it is to see how much the time has flown since we were 10-11 years old. The three of them all have kids, which is awesome. Jackie’s little girl looks exactly like her mom did when she was that age.

Anyway, I wanted to share a few photos with you, some from the nineties and some from the party last weekend. Unfortunately, I haven’t unpacked any of my photos since we moved, so I don’t have any photos of Jackie and Cara back in elementary school yet, but I’ll find them. I do however have a couple of me and Sam.

Sam and I, circa 1992

My fifth birthday party...I think Jackie was in there somewhere.

And then some from last weekend.

The four of us reunited: Cara, Jackie, Sam, Me

Cara and her son Alex

Cara's son Alex attacking some birthday cake.

Sam's daughter Cheyanne, and her new flip flops!

Cheyanne, modeling the hat I made her.

When I look back at the last 16 years or so, I am reminded of the simpler days of elementary school. I’d get up in the morning, watch cartoons (or the news) while eating my breakfast, go to school and see my friends. Then I’d come home and do homework, call up a friend or two on the telephone (you know, that thing with a cord that plugs into the wall and not through the cable line). Life was easy when you were that young. No bills to pay, no mouths to feed. Just plain, unadulterated (in all senses of the word), life.

Ah nostalgia. Makes for a depressing Saturday afternoon in the life of a 25 year old married college student.

time flies nostalgia best friends elementary school

This post, My My How Time Flies, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Crowd says: TEN TIMES?!

Yes, ten times.

And with all of those moves, I’ve grown more and more disdainful toward the idea of moving. In the beginning, I was all, “Hey! This is awesome! Moving to a new place and making new friends.” Now I’m all, “meh.” It’s made me unmotivated and just uninterested in the idea. I mean, not that I’m not excited to move, because I am, but just getting there is becoming such a daunting task.

Let’s see, what can I say about moving.

The first time I moved was from New Jersey to Las Vegas in 1996. I was about to start fifth grade, and I was excited to leave the only place I’ve ever known to move to the city that never sleeps. The land of slot machines at the gas station, 24 hour supermarkets and buffets. Lots of buffets.

The second time we moved was intrastate. We moved from Las Vegas to Henderson, which is where we stayed until I was done with 8th grade in 2000.

In the summer of 2000, we picked up and moved to the midwest, specifically Carmel, Indiana. It was more or less like going back to the east coast, only not really. We went from 100+ degree summers back to snow. I can’t say I didn’t mind really. The hot summers of Vegas were starting to bother me. And hey, I was about to start high school. Although truthfully, my years at Carmel High School were awful. I honestly wish that I could go back and erase the three years I was there.

In 2003, my grandmother got sick. So we picked up from Carmel and moved to Philly to be with her. It was right before my senior year of high school, so I was relieved to be going to a new place to finish my high school career. Even though the first three years were awful, I now had the chance to pull my grades up and start over in a new place. And start over I did. I am of the firm belief that the move to Philly had the greatest and most positive impact on my life. I was very sad to leave there after graduation.

2004 brought a move back out west to Phoenix. The four years I lived there brought the most moves in one area: once to our house in Peoria where I lived with my parents until I moved out on my own with my flame at the time to our first apartment in March of 2006. In October of 2006 (yay six month leases!) we moved to another apartment in another part of town until I got sick. After two months in and out of the hospital, we moved back in with my parents. In 2007 we all moved to another part of town, and then I split with Mr. Huston (I am sure I will talk about him in-depth another time).

In 2008, I met Mr. Fox online, while he was living here in Indianapolis, and after a 3 month long distance relationship, I made the decision to move back to Indy. My parents and I had already been planning on moving there, I was just moving out sooner than originally planned. So I picked up my two cats and moved in with Mr. Fox and his cat. And there was our little family. My parents moved out to Indy a little later in the year.

A couple of months after Mr. Fox and I became Mr. and Mrs., we moved our little family across town to be closer to my parents (and for other reasons involving bitchy lesbian landlords), into a nice apartment. We’ve actually tried to transfer to a townhouse in the same complex twice in the almost two years we’ve been here, and failed miserably due to life happening.

And now, well, shortly, we’ll be picking up and moving back “home” as I like to call it, as it’s where both Mr. Fox and I were born and raised. The idea of picking up and starting over is a bit overwhelming. We have a chance to start a new life, to start fresh.

And you’re probably wondering why I am not more excited. Well, see paragraphs 2-8. Also, the idea of leaving my parents in Indiana for however long it takes them to sell their house and move back is unnerving to me. I mean, I did it in 2008 when I came here to Indy, but that was only for four months. I have a very close relationship with my mom. She’s my first best friend and I hate the idea of not being able to go the less than a mile to their house and see her and dad. But I know that they’ll get to be home again eventually. It’s just a matter of when.

So you see how unmotivated I am to pack up and move for the 11th time. I want to, because I hate it here in Indiana. But I wish I could just snap my fingers and it’ll all be done for me.

If only it were that easy.

moving blues lacking motivation east coast

This post, Moving Blues, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.