I Must Confess

Ok, so if anyone read the post about the Progressive Adventist Culture before I caught this, I am totally 'fessing up. I was wiki-ing religious leaders and somehow mixed up the Adventists and the Mormons when I made the comment about Joseph Smith that I changed to Ellen G. White. Yeeeesh. Just admitting that is like fingernails on a blackboard to me. Cringe.

Granted, they are both relatively modern Christian derivatives based on dubious revelations from their modern day prophets and prophetesses, but that is no excuse. Golden tablets from angels do not equal a rock to the head. A badly researched reference is a badly researched reference. My apologies to all Mormons and Adventists I may have unintentionally offended. As for the ones I may have intentionally offended, well, I have no excuse for that at all.

In other news, I learned something cool today while watching the History Channel at the gym: the ancient Greeks discovered tons of dinosaur fossils, some of which were stashed as offerings at the temples, even at the Acropolis (where I have actually been). They found so many that most of them were just tossed. What is so cool about this is that it was very probably the basis for their mythological creatures. In some cases, seismic activity had scrambled the skeletons so much that it was probably pretty common to find the front half of something mixed up with the back half of something else. Why not half man half horse? A triceratops looks a lot like a great big something with a long tail-- maybe a lion-- with the head of a bird, because of the beak. Voila, the griffin! This was the factual evidence they were finding, and they interpreted it to the best of their ability at the time.

I always just assumed that those fantastical animals were inventions of creative imaginations. I had never heard that there was a connection between the Greek myths and dinosaurs. It is really no different from, though not as technologically enabled as, our current imaginings of dinosaurs. When I heard that, something delightful just snapped into place. A fundamental bit of knowledge about mankind and the history of the creatures on earth was put in like a little puzzle piece.

Which reminds me, have you heard about the exhibit that puts dinosaurs in Noah's Ark? Yeah, I'm not kidding.

Inevitable

Yep, I bought myself a little tub, and I have a rolling composter on the way from Peaceful Valley Farm Supply. I don't know what I'm going to do with the compost quite yet, but I do know that no one will have to eat Kitchen Scraps Soup any time soon.

Somewhere a few months back I came across a Mario Batali quote about part of his success being due to his Italian food-frugality. He mentioned that nothing goes to waste, and they put all of their kitchen scraps to use in stocks. I'm a saver. All it took was a little bit of encouragement, and my compulsive side and my cheap side quickly blanket-rolled my practical side and stuffed it in a neatly-labeled Zip-loc.

Already guilty of harboring the dismantled carcasses of more than a few roast chickens in my freezer, I immediately began saving every little snip, stem and leaf. Dead tomatoes, broccoli stems, onion tops, chard bottoms, the woody stalks of asparagus. In addition, I saved the dregs of bottles of wine for reduction sauces of the future, and all of the egg yolks left over from my dubiously successful Angel Food Cakes. (Custard, anyone?) I'm also storing a nice vertical selection of organic tomato sauce from the summer before we moved here. That was over a year ago. We left the skins on the tomatoes, and every time I think about opening one up, I'm afraid it will taste bitter and we'll waste pasta trying to eat it. But I digress.

Compost is the ultimate saver's dream. So, I cleaned all of the limp produce out of the fridge and mixed it with its frostbitten counterparts from up north. Now I just have to wait for the composter to come. Hopefully nothing explodes or takes over the Earth before then. When it finally becomes dirt, maybe I'll just throw it on my little garden. Provided the gophers leave me something to throw dirt on by then.

Eat Me

Have you seen the new M&M commercials? Is it just me, or are M&Ms with hair a bad idea? Somehow my brain could accept them with little arms and legs, but the hair is ookie.
Hair + food = hair in mouth = bad.

On their site "Planet M&M's" (sic) you can create your own custom-designed candies, and even make a virtual candy that looks like yourself. (That's delicious yellow peanut me above.)

I have to hand it to them for creativity. This is only one of the many games/activities available on Planet M&M. A) it's pretty ridiculous that someone spent this much time (can you even imagine the hours logged?) creating such an interactive site for a $1.00 candy. B) it's pretty damn smart that someone just got me to spend time hanging out with their product. I don't spend 3 seconds looking at an ad in a magazine (unless it's for something I really need, ok?) but in spite of the fact that I think that hair on candy is gross, I remembered their commercial, I sought out their website, and I made myself into a candy-coated chocolate.

As my wine marketing instructor (and founder of Balzac Communications) Paul Wagner would ask, "Yes, but DOES IT SELL CANDY?" I don't know, does it?

How Would Jesus Dance?

Great poster, eh? Nice art, cool, vibrant colors. This poster, posted at my gym, is for a musical performance at Pacific Union College, in Angwin. It is a "religious" school. The official looking ratings box at the bottom says this: "WARNING: This show is rated PAC (Progressive Adventist Culture) and contains dancing as a form of healthy expression." Whoa! Dancing! WITH singing?? That would be so far beyond my conservative ken as to be shocking. I cannot go.

Can Adventists watch American Idol as long as the contestants don't dance? What about Dancing with the Stars? Do they secretly covet the mambo in the privacy of their own homes? Can they they themselves dance in the privacy of their own homes, or only if they are married? I have many questions.

Here's what I do know: if you hire young Adventists to work for you in a restaurant, they always get Fridays and Saturdays off without question, and are often seen taking part in the forbidden activity (don't make me say it again) in the city somewhere between sabbath sundowns, and now and again also somehow manage to be hungover on Sundays. Hmmmm.....I could get used to that Progressive Adventist Culture.

I am not particularly reverent, especially in the face of the convenience of religous hypocrisy. I had to laugh out loud at this poster, and at the same time, I could see that this is how religions and societies get changed. One decade, it's PAC, but the next generation will be saying, "Remember how our grandparents thought it was sinful to dance?" See ya, Ellen G! Pretty soon, they'll be drinking Coca-Colas and wearing jewelry, too!

Another Baby Wanders Into My Trap

Beautiful Swiss Chard

What's Going On in the Garden

Memorial Day

Image: Devon DeLapp

Today is a very busy day for my 81-year-old grandfather. Prior to today, he's mapped the military graves in his local cemetery, re-checked and adjusted the map where there were errors, noting the location of each and every serviceman's grave. Volunteers will help him mark each of those graves with a flag. The cemetery has been well-maintained and manicured. The wildly variable Tahoe weather means that in some years, snow has to be dusted from the graves to find the ones to mark, and in others, my grandpa has to wipe the sweat from his brow as he goes from plot to plot. There will be a memorial service.

My grandpa has served in the military since the mid 1940s. He caught the tail end of WWII and was in Korea and Vietnam. He met my grandmother, Rose, while in the ROTC at UCLA. She was an airplane rivet driller. Her short stature allowed her to get into the wingtips, where she'd drill the holes for the riveters to follow. She also waitressed at a little restaurant where she slipped extra pats of rationed butter between my grandpa's pancakes when no one was looking. My grandpa still relishes melted butter on just about anything he can have it on, but especially on baked goods and "hotcakes".

Grandpa retired decades ago, but he has never stopped serving his country, and more importantly, his fellow soldiers. He doesn't always agree with the conflict at hand, and his wish is that no one would ever have to go to war again, but he supports the men who are out there doing the job, and understands the difficulties they face when they return. He still works with his local veterans administration to support the young men coming back from Iraq.

My grandfather has a love for language. One of the things that he says that he learned from serving all over the world, during wars and peace, was that people are the same. People have hopes and dreams and children and pain, and we are all the same. He has no patience for bigots, racists, or small-minded religious leaders. One of his greatest pleasures is to extract a few words from his mental library and communicate with someone who isn't expecting it. An Indian might receive a "namaste" or he might tell someone the time in German, or Russian, or thank them in Chinese, or Spanish. He's pretty sharp. Relaying these tales is one of the few times he'll let his pride show, because he so loves the look of surprise on their faces. It gives him so much joy to be able to connect.

When the movie "Platoon" came out, I had to go see it for a college class. I had no idea what I was in for. I wept through the whole thing, and I thought of my grandfather. As soon as the movie was over, I called him, crying, and thanked him for going through what he went through. He's not the type of guy that glorifies the war. You won't hear him telling stories of his own heroism, or making it sound like it wasn't so bad. Though he has received three Purple Heart medals, he doesn't mention those either.

Once in a great while, when we're on the phone, he'll feel like talking about something, and will tell me about something that happened to him, such as being blinded and having his back broken at the same time, crawling to safety and being helicoptered out of a dangerous situation. I listen intently, I take notes (he doesn't know that I do this) trying to soak up all of the details, but I can never remember them precisely enough. What I do know is that there were horrors that he will never talk about, and that he can never entirely forget. He went through those things because he had a sense of duty to his country, and to the people he was with. He has tried to make sense of things as best he can over the years.

Once, I sent him the lyrics to this Little Steven song called I Am A Patriot (later released by both Jackson Browne and Pearl Jam):

I am a patriot,and I love my country
Because my country is all I know
I wanna be with my family
People who understand me
I got no place else to go...
I am a patriot

I ain't no communist
And I ain't no socialist
And I ain't no capitalist
And I ain't no imperialist
And I ain't no democrat
I sure ain't no republican either
I only know one party, and its name is freedom
Listen to me, I am, I am, I am...
I am a patriot, and I love my country
Because my country is all I know

He liked it. I think it spelled out how we both feel, and why I cry when I hear the National Anthem. It always reminds me of my grandfather, whom I love dearly, and who, in his quiet way, is a huge hero. He doesn't always believe that his government is right, but he always believes in his country, and in spite of all that he has seen, he still believes in the good of people. Right now, we're just about as embarrassed as a country can be by its leadership or lack thereof, but it is, and always will be Home. In the midst of the barbecues, beers, or whatever sunny pursuit I happen to be enjoying later today, I'm going to put my hand over my heart and thank those people, men and women, who were willing to put themselves in the service of their country, right or wrong.

Where You Look Is Where You Go

image copyright denz zani

As I mentioned, we went surfing in Hawaii. Our instructor, Nate, was awesome. He had been teaching surfing long enough to be patient, cool and encouraging, but not long enough to be burned out. As we grinned and sloshed awkwardly out on wave after wave, one of the things he repeatedly coached, besides "Paddle, paddle, paddle!" and "Push up, then get up!" was

"Where you look is where you go."

It really stuck in my brain. My mother, the spiritualist minister (and junior high school teacher) has been sending inspirational emails about being positive and affecting positive change in our lives. I suspect she sends these to me in part because she sends them to my sister, and she doesn't want it to look like she's just sending them to my sister. At this point in our lives, my sister needs a little more encouragement about positivity than I do. I'm hip to this whole thing, but for me, this little phrase really nailed it in a precise way.

What it means in surfing is that if you look at your feet, you will fall down. If you look at the beach, you will go forward. What it means in life is that if you focus on the negative, you will go there. If you focus on the positive, you will go there. As Peggy Hall puts it in the Yoga for Surfers video : "Picture yourself doing it, and you will." (I highly recommend Yoga for Surfers II, a sweat-inducing 30 minutes that stretches and uses every muscle in a short time period. I dare you not to be pleasantly sore.) Ok, so the position she's referring to is one I'm not sure physics allows considering the current dimensions of my body, but I get the idea. It's that simple.

Life is that simple. The head leads the horse, physically and mentally. You don't have to be a Pollyanna. Just picture the best, coolest life that you can imagine, keep that picture in your mind, and believe that you deserve it. Then go there.

PS- While wiki-ing Pollyanna, I discovered the Pollyanna Principle, which is the tendency of people to believe positive things said about themselves. I think it would make a great band name.

Clarification

If there is anyone out there who found me because they were searching for Tamara Landry, with a y, please move on, these are not the droids you are looking for. Tamara Landry is/was a porn star of dubious achievement in the early 1990s. I am Tamara Landre, with an e, related to the not-so-famous Gilbert Landre, who lived in Skagit, Washington, about 100 years ago. He was my grandfather's grandfather's brother. This August, we are going to visit his log cabin, which is still standing, and is a designated historical structure.

Hitting the Bag Jackpot

Ok, I know pretty soon you'll be saying, "Enough with the shopping bags already, Tamara!" but just one more, ok? These dinky things fold inside-out into their own little pouches, come in a couple of neat modern prints, and unfold to approximately 12" x 18". Small enough to tuck in a small purse, big enough and not-dorky enough to save you from that giant department store plastic bag they are going to try to give you at Macy's or Nordstrom. UN-fortunately it is made out of rayon/polyester by overstressed children living in the smoggy suburbs of some unnamed Chinese city. The company "Three Wishes" is probably some made up thing, too. (If it doesn't exist on the internet, it doesn't exist, right?) I bought mine at Mr. Moon's in Calistoga, but I'm sure there are other bags just like this. If you can't get one, call me, and I'll go buy you one. $8. I'm going to go try it out at Ann Taylor right now. After I buy a compost bucket.

Sights of Seattle, etc.

This awesome picture (which I did not take) was posted on Neatorama. (Later I'll tell you about my fondness for fence-eating trees.) Apparently, someone chained their bike to a tree many years ago, and never came back for it, so the tree eventually ate it.

Interestingly, it happens to be on Vashon Island, Washington, where my friends Karen and Lars and their two dogs, Inky and The Colonel, live. Worth a pilgrimage on our next visit. I had a chance to see Lars and Karen while I was in Seattle. Here's Lars in a cool bar called King's or King Hardware, in Ballard: He's very handsome, but can't resist making faces for the camera--so unlike any of my other friends. Just above his head is a taxidermied bobcat. The walls were filled with diverse taxidermied wildlife of the great white north. One wall was devoted almost entirely to wintry northwest landscapes, from skillful oils to paint-by-numbers. I loved it. Actually, I just love Seattle. One, because so many people I love are there, and two, because it is chock full of weird little places like this. I love to walk and explore in the neighborhoods. It's a fantastic food town, so I know there's a great local beer, cup of coffee, or tasty treat in store for me wherever I go. As I mentioned, I brought home piroshkies, but I also brought home beautiful alderwood-smoked Copper River salmon. The fish display at the local Whole Foods made me swoon. The fresh salmon display looked like pyramids of silver ingots on ice. Sorry, no picture of that, but I can still picture it in my mind. (I didn't have a real camera with me, so most of these images are from my phone.) More later on Seattle.

Cool

Check out this video on Neatorama.

Aloha Kako

(Aloha Kako=Hello Everyone) A bit on Hawaii:

We had such a nice time, I was sad to leave. It was one of the few vacations I've had where I thought about absolutely nothing. I actually forgot the days of the week. The day we went surfing, I had to write the date on a piece of paper, and I honestly could not resurrect it in my brain. I knew our anniversary was a few days earlier, and I know what that date is, but I couldn't remember how many days had passed since. That is a good vacation. Nothing was stressful, everything was low key and dreamlike.

Some people put Hawaii down as a tacky, Vegas-like tourist destination, with no redeeming features. I see those Bubba Gump's elements, but I also see a beautiful, wild and rugged place that is clinging to its unique and increasingly endangered cultural heritage. The ocean is such a wonderful world there, so different from the cold, murky and great-white-shark friendly seas closest to us here in Northern California. I love to snorkel. I can spend hours in the water, just swimming around seeing who lives where and what we they are all doing down there.

To start with, we rented a biodiesel car from Bio-Beetle. All of the biodiesel on Maui is recycled restaurant oil. With a little effort, they could (and should) improve their office, which happens to be conveniently situated near the recycling center and which is home to more than a few rescued, neutered feral cats, but the car itself was clean and new, and they were very nice and mellow people. It sure felt good to drive around the island knowing that we were not only getting 40+ mpg, but also recycling and greatly reducing our contribution to global warming. Temporarily. It gave us a chance to test-drive the Jetta and see if we liked it. We may sell the Subaru eventually in favor of a recycled-fuel-burning car like this one.

I don't know if you can tell how miniscule the surf is in this picture (1-2 feet) but this is what it looked like when Mike and I surfed (me for the first time) a few days earlier. Our instructor was really, really nice. If you go to Maui, and you want to try this, go here and ask for Nate. We thought Mike was nice, too, but Nate was our guy, and he took good care of us. It was a fun time. We took a "private" lesson, so there were just the two of us with our instructor, and we caught a lot of waves. He even showed us how to paddle in ourselves, and I caught two or three under my own power. Beforehand, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to do it, or worse, that I wouldn't like it. Unfortunately for our bank accounts, I loved it and can't wait to do it again. I have a lot to learn. I may just have to gear up and get on my carveboard again this weekend. Don't worry, I'll wear my kneepads this time.

A torch ginger flower at the Keanae Arboretum. We had a great time poking around among the flowers and tropical plants. We got caught in a rainstorm and hid under some closely-spaced palms until it let up. Leaf, also at the arboretum after the rainstorm.

The view from our condo.


Sunset on Napili beach. On our last night there, we walked out to the beach. There was no moon, and a million bright stars were gleaming and twinkling. Just as I felt the cool sand under my feet, I looked up and saw a big shooting star, which rocketed, white, like a comet, for a long time, and then burst into actual flames and had an orange tail before it disappeared.

I was so amazed that all I could do was draw in my breath and point at it with my rolled up beach mat. I didn't even make a noise loud enough for Mike to turn around. I just kept going *gasp* point, *gasp* point. In my head I was saying, "oh my gosh! a shooting star! oh! it is still going! oh! it actually burst into flames! oh! I've never seen that!" but I had to explain it all out loud to Mike after it happened. Sort of like I just did. It was cool, and it made me feel less bummed about leaving the next morning.

Most of the people on this beach are naked.

Jiggety Jig

Home again, home again. While I was gone, the blackberries in the garden zoomed from white flowers all the way to ripe fruit. This morning's breakfast was one of my all-time favorite combinations: fresh blackberries, strong coffee, and an apple piroshky from Piroshky Piroshky in Seattle. (I brought home four cheese and onion, and six apple, fresh from the oven yesterday morning.) If you are in Seattle, even if you feel you need to avoid the Pike Place Market, stop by the piroshky shop at breakfast time and have one of these with a decaf-double-whatever from the "original" Starbucks which is down a few doors.

Those who know me know that I would not set foot in a Starbucks, and now you know that I would, but only in Seattle, and only if I hadn't gone someplace else first. Starbucks, unlike McDonald's, is not entirely evil. I just try to support the smaller players when I can. I had the very best latte that I think I've ever had at the Cowen Park Grocery around the corner from my friend Karen's house in the "U District". I can't remember who roasted it, but it was perfectly flavored, perfectly foamed, and served (three days in a row) with a smile.

It was good to be gone, but it is good to be back. I live in a beautiful place. Yesterday afternoon when I came home, I took a shower, then a nap (I never nap-- there is always something to do) and in the evening I went to the garden with my basket and picked a head of lettuce, some basil, parsley, cilantro, and some blackberries, eating a few as I picked. I rubbed a few herb leaves as I wandered through the plantings, smelling new things like pineapple sage, and the familiar rosemary, curry and oregano. Mike and I had warm cheese and onion piroshkies with a hand-picked butter lettuce and herb salad for dinner. I was just in heaven.

Mama, I'm Comin' Home

On the plane tomorrow, bound for Oakland. Today, I was in Seattle, eating carrot cake on my friend Karen's kitchen floor with her little daughter Abbie. *Note: no children were harmed in the taking of this picture. Abbie is eating a homemade, baby-friendly, no sugar gâteau.

A Week's Worth of Florality

I visited the garden of a professional landscape gardener on Tuesday. It was such a beautiful place, not formal at all. I could have stayed all day. Here are some highlights before I say Aloha for a week or so.




Did I mention I love flowers?

Digging in the Dirt

This is what I did with my Sunday afternoon.

The Clean Team

In case you want to start cleaning your house with "earth-friendly" products and don't want to have to go through the trial and error period, here's what I use:

The Creamy Cleanser is my favorite for anything in the bathroom or kitchen, especially stuff that needs to be shiny after cleaning: shower, sink, chrome, even mirrors. We use the Citrus Magic (my favorite one is actually yellow, but this is the right label) for almost everything else: floors, counters, etc. We tried a couple of dishwashing powders before finding the Wave liquid. We also use an earth-friendly rinse-aid, but it's not as crucial with the liquid. The powders left a residue for us. We just tried the Meyers Clean Day toilet cleaner-- if anyone knows a better one, let me know.

There are all sorts of recipes readily available for baking soda concoctions, vinegar cleaners, etc., so I won't list them here. If you only get one thing, get the creamy cleanser. Once you use these types of products for a while, even Windex smells harsh, and you'll realize how chemically strong (and usually unnecessary) all that stuff is. We still keep carpet cleaner and similar specialty products on hand in case a stain is too tough, but these are our regular players.

In Case Your Junk Drawer is Full

I've always wondered where to put these when I was finished with them. Thanks, IKEA!

More Cute Shopping Bags

These are made by Blue Q. I'm in love with their crazy designs. Oh my, have they expanded into all sorts of neat realms. I've got to go check it out right now. *Note: for more cute shopping bag resources, see my One Simple Thing post.

Damn Right It's Invisible

Does anyone else have this problem? I go to Staples (which I much prefer to Office Depot, by the way) and I am looking for TAPE. The problem is, every box is labeled STAPLES. Finding staples is equally difficult, because you have to look carefully at each box to make sure it IS actually STAPLES. Maybe it's just me.

Sorry for the crap picture. I figured it wasn't worth trying to get a great artistic shot, but I think it should at least be clear. I'll try again.

Mmmm, I Feel Smothered Already

Be Careful with Not Honest Website

"Dear customer, why would you believe a company offer a 3-5 Yrs warranty without "Brand Named" battery, by the time you have problem with the battery, they will said, " This battery doesn't belong to them!". Good Luck! 800mAh is highest capacity on this battery, other website have mention 1500mAh, those are false advertising. This battery case can't fit 1500mAh module inside of this case. So be careful with false advertisment and not honest website!" Oh, please to buy battery from you, honorable website!

Gratuitous Floralness

More Recommendations

I may have mentioned this before, but I wanted to mention it again: At the beginning of the year, I went to a new doctor, recommended to me by some friends, Dr. Eleanor Hynote. Generally, I am pretty darn healthy (knock on wood), eat well, exercise, and have few complaints. Except one teensy issue with PMS. I remember my mother also having a very tough time with it. Luckily, I was fairly symptom free through my 20s and most of my 30s. Through my mid-30s until now, though, I started feeling progressively worse about ten days before the end of my cycle. (I realize now I am venturing into a more personal area...but if this helps someone, that's important.)

It always felt like a switch was thrown. One day, I'd be smiling and happy, and things would be just fine. Then, like clockwork, the next day I'd wake up and feel anxious, angry, and like nothing was right in my world. Mike usually got the brunt of it. I thought it was just my personality, or that if I just fixed things in my life, I wouldn't feel like that. Then, the day before my period started, it felt like the cloudy gray veil was just lifted, and I could see the sun again. I talked to my old GP, but she didn't seem to get it. She told me there were no tests that could be done on hormones to determine if I had an imbalance.

So as part of my annual exam with Dr. Hynote, I talked to her about my symptoms. She said that it was perfectly normal for someone my age to have exactly these symptoms. (Whew.) She had me take a blood test on a specific day and determined that I was indeed experiencing an imbalance in hormones. She prescribed Balance (above), three each day in the morning, starting on the 18th day. I was pretty skeptical the first month. I felt the "switch" so I knew that I was going through my usual cycle. I started taking the Balance. The first day, I felt the same, the second day, I felt a little bit better, and on the morning of the third day, I woke up and felt not only normal, but HAPPY. I was ecstatic. I was so grateful. If I'd known about this five or ten years ago, it would have given me a lot more happy days, and my husband a lot less grief.

In addition to balancing out my hormones, Dr. H found through my blood test that I have one of the early indicators for heart disease. As you know, my mother had a quadruple bypass this last summer (poor Mommy!) and both of my living grandparents have stents, which I think is a prop for a formerly clogged artery. That, and diabetes on both sides of my family means I have to take extra good care of myself to avoid these things. Luckily, this precursor is treatable with a Niacin supplement. Now I don't know whether this indicator is something that causes heart disease, or whether it is something that people who have heart disease also happen to have, but if a relatively inexpensive supplement can address it, and it isn't harmful, then why not?

If you are thinking about seeing Dr. Hynote, you should know that she does not take insurance. The first consultation and exam are a bit expensive. Ouch expensive. The blood tests were also expensive, but were covered by my insurance. But the attention, comprehensive diagnostics, nutrition analysis and holistic approach to health were so worth it in the end. Ok, so now I spend twice as much on vitamins as I did before. But in the end, I'm healthy, AND I'm happier overall, so what's that worth?

Car Talk

If you live in the Napa area, and your car has mechanical trouble, take it to Storck's Garage. Write this down, because one day, that little "check engine" light is going to come on, or your brakes will start squealing, and you're going to say, "Dang, what was the name of that place Tamara had in her blog?" Storck's Garage. They tell you what's going on, they do what they say they are going to do, and they don't waste your time. They are professionals.

Speaking of professionals, if you get into an accident and you end up needing some bodywork or paint done, my next recommendation is ProTones. (Sorry, they don't have their own website.) We've had two cars painted by them, and they treat every car like their own. The car was perfect and shiny, detailed down to the thank you note, lifetime guarantee, and travel cup gift they left for me in the cupholder.

On the negative side, never, ever have your auto glass replaced by Auto Craft Glass in Napa. Avoid at all costs. A few months ago, we had a small crack in our front windshield and had it repaired by them. When we went in, the shop, which is a converted house, was a little dissheveled, including cigarette butts and a beer cap on the front porch. When we returned to pick up the car, there was a four-inch-wide strip of blue tape all the way around the windshield with signs not to remove for 48 hours for curing. Mike was immediately suspicious, having installed windshields himself.

Sure enough, removing the tape revealed that they were trying to hide some very big mistakes. The molding was the wrong molding, and was wrinkled in some areas and gapping in others, not making a seal. They had used a crowbar, or similar tool, to remove the old windshield, without protecting the surfaces of the car. So we had deep gouges in our paint all the way around the windshield, and even scratches in the dash board. It looked like the windshield had basically been put in by someone who had never put in a windshield before. I would include pictures here, but I don't want to dwell on it.As more information came out, we found that this was the second car the person had severely damaged, and the employee had been fired. But the owner of the shop (who, when he used to do all of the work himself, did a fine job, by the way) never talked to us, communicating through a teenage manager.

The happy ending to the story is that we took the car around the corner to ProTones for a repair estimate, and they were so helpful and so professional that it was a much less stressful situation than it might have been. They even picked up the second new windshield and installed it for us-- perfectly-- after repainting the car. 80% of the car had to be repainted because the damaged sections were continuous. The car is silver, so you can't just slap a patch on it. Every section that touched a damaged section had to be repainted to match. Anyway, the glass shop's insurance covered the painting.

My current dilemma is this: I just received an invoice from Auto Craft for the glass, labor and adhesive. I thought that was pretty ballsy. Why would I pay for the labor that it took someone to completely ruin my almost new car so that I had to have it repainted? If you were this guy, wouldn't you slink off with your tail between your legs to your insurance company and just write it off? I'd be embarrassed to send someone an invoice for such a total screw up. I have a check written out for the glass itself, but every time I go to put it in the mailbox, I just don't want to do it. I was without my car for a month because this jackass didn't know how to hire, train, or supervise his employees. I resent sending him anything at all. If he's already claimed it on his insurance or written it off his taxes, he gets paid twice. Bonus for him. I thought I'd just wait and see what happens, but he's probably sent it to his billing service, so they don't care. I thought about sending just a note back that says, "ARE YOU HIGH? Your employee wrecked my car. Pay for the damn thing yourself." But I thought that might be a little harsh. Tell me, would it be wrong not to pay for the windshield?