We are back from the holiday. We rented a vehicle to visit my parents. This was an interesting experience. It was a 2006 Pontiac something, I forget what, but it is the closest thing to a new car I have ever been in. (We have always bought cheap beaters, with about 30,000 miles on them.) That, I have to tell you is some experience. Plus? An American car. You step on the gas, them puppies GO.
I did nearly kill us about five times on the way to New Orleans (I had to drive, due to mr. delagar's bad shoulder -- he's on Vicodin, due to the bad shoulder, and I wouldn't let him drive when he was high, even though he insisted he could) in the Christmas traffic. Do you know new cars have proximity alarms? When you're about to crash they go MEEP MEEP MEEP MEEP! WATCH THE FUCK OUT YOU IDIOT! It's very exciting. mr. delagar skipped the Vicodin on the way home and drove us himself.
The kid got many gifts from aunts and uncles and grandparents, including two battery-powered remote-controled dinosaurs that walk and roar; I got Kate Atkinson's new book. mr. delagar got an art set. It was a nice holiday. No one started any trouble except me -- I went off on the patriarchy once -- and that wasn't much trouble.
More on the condition of New Orleans later.
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