May 21, 2012

Through the Arbor: It’s about the Scent!

My Montclair, N.J. gardens are abloom! The roses and peonies are bursting at the buds and the lilies and lavenders aren’t far behind. With the warm weather and rain the plants are vying to outdo each other, and I’m the beneficiary! When I walk through the east arbor my nose gets dizzy! What to smell first? The spicy roses? The sweet roses? The sexy musky roses? It’s a party in my nose!

Walk with me through the arbor, which is covered in New Dawn climbing roses that are just about to burst into bloom!

Close your eyes and conjure the scents!

Guinevere (left) throws her thorny arms wide to snag my attention even though I keep telling her that it's her strong antique rose scent that grabs me! The Ladies in Waiting (right) sit prettily in place; they know their powerful fragrance is quite enough to garner my attention!

Last year I planted 4 Mary Rose standards. Although still babies they are blooming and their old rose scent? Mmmm, strong and gorgeous!

Another newbie to my gardens is The Pilgrim climber. I about went a** over end trying to stretch enough to stick my nose into this bloom. The scent? Spicy!

Alliums are also blooming as are iris.

Check out these tall globe allium!

This bearded iris, Germanica Mother Earth, has lived in my garden since 2006. She's a reliable Mom!

Hello, Friends! I snapped these photos over the weekend. In between pruning laurels and boxwoods. And planting annuals. And weeding some. And my husband Mike and I watched as the Montclair High Boys baseball team won the county tournament; drama at the end, but they pulled it off! What did you do over the weekend? I’d love to know!

It’s pouring rain here in Montclair today and I thought sharing these sunny day photos would perk me right up. 

 

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May 19, 2012

Mommies: Scary and Edgy

When my two kids were growing up I was sometimes scary, but edgy? Not unless you count the part where I followed them around thisclose as they learned to walk. It’s been almost two decades since my youngest was born, but moms today have the same stresses — wanting to be a good mom, worrying they aren’t good enough, and feeling guilty or sad they aren’t happy in the role all the time — as I had all those years ago; we just have different ways of sharing and venting about them. I bemoaned my perpetually aching back, hemorrhoids and concerns I was an awful mom via land-line telephone conversations with my closest friends. Moms today have the internet; blogs have become a major way moms share their stories.

I took advantage of the complimentary chair massages. Ahhhh...

I know a lot of mom bloggers, but Scary Mommy’s blog is one of the most fascinating to me, particularly the brutally honest and sometimes bust-a-gut funny  “anonymous” section of her blog. I got to meet Jill Smokler, aka Scary Mommy, at the Barista Kids-organized “Scary Mommy Book Bash” at Trend Coffee & Tea House.  Although I’m middle aged, I figured I might fit in at the book signing/reception because (1) I really am a Mom, and (2) I truly am scary (just ask my young adult kids). After my initial jolt at realizing I was the oldest mom-guest there, I smiled my best smile and worked my way around all the pretty young moms to talk with Jill and ask her to autograph her book, “Confessions of a Scary Mommy.” Her book, a compilation of essays, is introduced by select anonymous “Mommy Confessions” from some of her readers. I admire Jill, her ability to make me laugh as she spins her tales of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of momhood. And sometimes she makes me cry. But all the time I’m nodding my head. Yup. Yup. Yup.

So thrilled to meet Jill in person!

Later in the evening, after I enjoyed some scary good swag like the complimentary chair massage and yummy food bits, I plopped myself down among the younger, trendier moms in attendance and listened as Jill read from her book a chapter titled, “Freedom of Speech.” Jill read about why she thinks cursing in front of her kids is not such a terrible thing, particularly compared with some of the “constructive criticism” she’s heard other parents level at their own kids.  Buy Jill’s book, read the chapter (actually read the whole thing!) then come on back and let me know what you think. This is one middle-aged mom who was extraordinarily happy to meet and talk with the Scary Mommy!

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May 16, 2012

5K Race for Interfaith Hospitality Network: A Realization!

Last Saturday I ran the third annual Interfaith Hospitality Network (IHN) 5K, which is organized and run by a group of Montclair High School students to benefit an Essex County non-profit that helps our area’s homeless families. The student organizers provided great race day fun, from the warm-up calisthenics led by a local trainer, to the live band, and a swag bag that included, among the gift cards for free classes and other cool stuff, a yummy cookie from race sponsor and local food chef/blogger Suzanne Michaud of Comfort Food Kitchen.

Race day dawned warm and sunny. The course in Brookdale Park, which straddles Bloomfield and Montclair, N.J., is a hilly one, and a real challenge for me. Hill running wears me out. I walked to the park, picked up my race bib, pinned it on and started to warm up my middle-aged body; with each twist, bend, squat and trot my muscles began to soften and elongate. All of us, 134 runners strong including an entire girls lacrosse team, lined up at the start; I stayed well back from the front, giving the faster runners a clear opportunity for a quick start.

The gun sounded and we were off, down the length of the track and out the gate into the park proper. I searched for my stride and found it pretty quickly; my breathing took longer to find, but eventually it kicked in too. Around the park I ran, keeping pace with the much younger woman dressed in blue in front of me. No one passed me, which was a delightful first for me. At about the 1.25-mile mark the young woman in blue slowed her pace; I slowed too. Then she started to walk.

I ran up to her and managed to squeeze out, ”Hey, keep running. I need you. You’re pacing me!”

She smiled as I ran by. A few moments later she passed me with a wave. Happy, I settled back in behind her, my pace runner. The sun shone brightly and the sweat trickled down my back, down my face. On we ran.

At about the 2.25-mile mark the young woman in blue slowed to a walk again. As I ran by her I rasped, “Keep moving, girl! I need you!”

Thankfully, she picked up her pace and passed me with a smile. We headed up the hill to the finish line. I saw the clock in the distance down the length of the track … 30 minutes and counting … and I picked up my pace, breathing hard.

I crossed the finish line in 30:38.6, a personal best! As I caught my breath, the young woman and I smiled at each other.

As I walked home from the race, my fourth since March, I realized something:

I am a runner.

I can run.

How about you? What have you realized about yourself?

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May 14, 2012

Pedicures, the Economy and Food Prep

When the economy is good, many women spring for professional pedicures. We walk into a salon, hitch up our pant legs, climb into an overstuffed pedicure chair and grab the two remotes, exhaling happily.  We adjust our seat with the first remote then we kick the massage chair into action with the second: I choose the “tap” setting to get a freshly beaten feeling, although on days I haven’t worked out I opt for the “roll” since one quick pass of the roller bar has me sprinting for the ladies room. Within a matter of perhaps 45 minutes, we leave with smooth feet, lovely trimmed toenails decked out in the latest shade of polish and a mellow attitude. This is known as “the life.”

At the nail salon, ready to start living "The Life."

When the economy is bad, some women get creative with foot care. If it’s winter they wear socks 24/7; they hide their gnarly, rough feet and save on laundry. If it’s summer the options are few since we all know (don’t we?) that wearing sandals with socks is a crime against fashion and it causes painful toe blisters. Some women I know bravely declare that they’ve gone “natural,” which is just another way of telling me that last December’s Jungle Fever red polish, now chipped and peeling like the side of an old barn, will remain in rotation on their toes until it flakes completely off. This is known as “poor judgment.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m not into wearing socks 24/7; I’m picky that way. And I’m not into “natural”; I can’t squint hard enough to convince myself my (okay, and everyone else’s) chipped toe polish looks acceptable. That’s why I opt for at-home pedicures during tough economic times.

My at-home spa pedicure experience includes a little bubbly!

Do you give yourself pedicures? Do you have any helpful hints to add to the two below that might encourage a newbie to give self-pedicure a whirl?

For a more pleasant self-pedicure experience:

  1. choose a time well before or well after you’ve eaten.  Otherwise, the bending, twisting and crouching that a self-pedicure entails could result in the unscheduled reappearance of the spinach salad you ate a short time ago.
  2. choose a location well removed from the kitchen. It might seem logical to alternate a pedicure with, say, salad prep, given all the scraping and peeling involved in both tasks and the dry time between coats of nail polish, but resist the urge. The tools should remain forever in separate rooms lest Junior tells everyone at the dinner table how he watched Mommy shred the dead skin off her heels with her foot file then used it to peel the carrots they are eating. Everyone is too busy gagging to hear Mommy explain that the two tools look similar but are not the same.

Now go ahead and give yourself a pedicure!

 

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May 11, 2012

{WW + Me = Weight Lost} + Existing Clothing = CRISIS

At week 17 of my Weight Watchers (WW) lifestyle, I am no longer poufy! I lost another 1.4 pounds at weigh-in this morning. My muffin top has disappeared as the massive muffins I used to eat for breakfast have worked their way out of my body. I feel terrific, but I look terrible!

“How can that be?” you ask.

And this is when they looked reasonable!

Well, when I get dressed every morning I…ummm…look like someone let the air out of me, like I lost my stuffing. I can’t continue to wear pants that slide down to the middle of my butt when I stand up; it isn’t right to see a middle-aged mom walking around in pants that fit like those of her daughter’s young male friends. You know, those boys who like to show off their boxers to anyone and everyone?

It’s pathetic. I have wonderful clothing that took me years to collect! I love them, but they don’t fit anymore; the piles of clothes to be donated have grown steadily over these last 17 weeks, while the number of garments that fit is pitifully few. Look in my closet and you see the empty wooden hangars huddled together disconsolately.

I had to hug and say good-bye to my black Michael Kors skirt with the cool silver zippers, my Michael Kors classic black jeans with the black leather trim, my tan DKNY pants with the bazillion trendy zippers down the sides, all of my sparkly evening clothes and <sob> my collection of animal print tops.

Gone! It’s pitiful.

The clothes are neatly folded and awaiting a donation bin. But I can’t make myself bag them up and drop them off. I can’t part with them. I know I can’t wear them, but I still can’t part with them. Well, okay, I’ve parted with a select few: I admit that I gave my brand-new white Michael Kors jeans with the silver studs on the pockets to my daughter’s friend Sam. But it hurt! Hurt!

And the worst part? The absolutely worst part of this whole process? I HAVE TO GO SHOPPING. And I haven’t been very successful thus far. Today, for example, I tried on 12 pairs of jeans. None fit just right so I came home with nothing. At this rate it will take me a solid year to find just a few suitable outfits that fit my taste. ARGH!!!!

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May 9, 2012

Let Your College Student Know You Care: Send Cupcakes By Carousel

Sweet treats you can send to your college student!

Some of my fave college students received gourmet cupcake care packages from Cupcakes By Carousel, a company well known in the NY/NJ/CT area for its sweet treats. Yup! The company that has received critical acclaim for its line of gourmet cupcakes, featured on shows like Oprah and The View and in my personal favorite magazines More and InStyle, graciously agreed to ship two boxes of its cupcakes to some well-deserving college students I know. The students, in the throes of studying for finals, were ready for a sweet break, and since Cupcakes By Carousel ships nationwide, I thought the company might be interested in hearing what college students have to say about its sweet treats. The “Candy” cupcake collection, as shown in the photo below, was sampled by the college students I love: Rear (L to R): coconut, brownie, turtle; Front (L to R):  cannoli, cookie dough and oreo. You can see Cupcakes By Carousel’s other shippable collections here.

Cupcakes By Carousel cupcakes ships nationwide. Why not send your college student a thoughtful treat today?

dry ice + water = fog

When the sampler box of gourmet cupcakes arrived at Kelly’s Penn State University (PSU) apartment, she and her friends immediately declared a cupcake break. The students opened the box, set the cupcakes on the kitchen counter for the 1-hour suggested time, then they noticed the dry ice that kept the cupcakes super-fresh during transit. These young women, all PSU engineering majors, did what any self-respecting engineering majors would do: They made fog in their kitchen sink using the dry ice. Then they got down to the serious business of cupcake eating.

Here’s what these women of PSU had to say:

Putie said, "The cupcake was amazingly delicious! Perfect for fans of both vanilla and coconut!"

Lindsay said, "This cupcake was delicious! The frosting tasted exactly like a cannoli, perfect for cannoli lovers."

Abbie said, "I loved the combination of flavors in the turtle cupcake! I would definitely order this flavor again!"

Morgan said, "The cookie dough chunks on top were delicious! The frosting was rich and I enjoyed the dough-y cupcake."

Brooke said, "The oreo-flavored cupcake is perfect for anyone who is a chocolate lover. The cake part has a very rich chocolate flavor while the icing on top is a nice balance of vanilla and oreo. By far the closest cupcake I’ve ever eaten that actually does taste like cookies & cream!"

And Kelly? She said, “The brownie cupcake was perfect for a chocolate lover like me! The frosting, brownie bits, and cupcake were all very rich and delicious.”

Cupcakes by Carousel had a second box of its gourmet cupcakes delivered to Essex County College (ECC) students in New Jersey. My fave local college students deserved a sweet treat for their hard work too! My daughter Tory, a student at ECC, and her friends convened around the box of cupcakes to celebrate the end of their semester. The ECC students, an orderly bunch, sampled each of the six flavors and ranked them! Tied for first was the coconut – “Very moist with a surprise in the middle and a perfect coconut/cake balance.” – and cannoli – “Great flavor, light and much neater than eating an actual cannoli.” Tied for second was cookie dough –“ It tastes like half-baked cookie dough! YUM!” – and Oreo – “Fluffy! Light! It reminds me of oreo cookie ice cream!!” Tied for third was turtle – “Great tasting cake. Creamy.” and brownie – “Light cake. Moist.”

"My favorite? Cannoli!"

The next time you want your college students to know you’re thinking of them why not send Cupcakes By Carousel sweet treats?  Your favorite college students will thank you!

"I loved the surprise in the middle!"

 

Disclosure: Cupcakes By Carousel provided and shipped via FedEx, its normal nationwide shipping method, two complimentary variety boxes of its gourmet cupcakes for our review.  No request to share any particular point of view was made. All opinions expressed herein are strictly those of the college students who ate the cupcakes and me.

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May 7, 2012

How Long Does It Take to Fertilize the Hollies?

One bag of fertilizer and 30 minutes!

This past weekend was the perfect time to fertilize the hollies! I headed outside and began to walk across our front porch, our winter-filthy front porch.

“Hmmm. It will only take 30 minutes to spread the fertilizer,” I thought. “Let me clean up the porch first.”

Off I went to the basement for the mop and bucket. When I got to the basement I realized the laundry was piled high so I sorted the clothes and started the first of what were 8 loads. It only took 30 minutes to get that started.

With mop and bucket in hand I walked upstairs and into our front entryway. That’s when I noticed the dirt stains on the tile floor and the dust on the woodwork. I put the mop and bucket down and grabbed a scrubby, paper towels and my trusty Clorox spray from the kitchen; 30 minutes later the floor tiles sparkled and the wood shone. I put the carpet, shoe trays and umbrella holder back in the entryway and my cleaning supplies away.

That’s when I noticed I was hungry.

When I walked into the kitchen to make myself a salad I saw the newspapers that needed to be put in the recycling bin. And the plants in the breakfast room that needed watered.  And the cat’s bowls that needed to be washed, dried and refreshed. Those little projects only took 30 minutes.

That’s when I noticed someone had spilled something inside the frig. I got a hot soapy sponge and cleaned up the mess, then I spied some old food lurking in the back of the frig; one hour later I sat down to a scrumptious salad lunch. I answered some emails. I petted the cat. Then I cleaned up the kitchen and returned to the basement where I transferred another load of wash to the dryer and started another load in the washer.

That’s when I saw all the cement creatures with their blank eyes staring at me, accusingly.

“This will only take a minute to carry them outside and put them in their places,” I thought.

An hour later I wiped my sweat-streaked face on my shirt, transferred another load of laundry and headed back to the front porch, the still-filthy front porch. I grabbed the bucket and mop I’d left leaning in the front entryway what seemed like days ago now and I headed outside.

On the front porch I eyed the winter grunge that coated the furniture. With just a little sigh I dragged all the furniture off the porch and onto the lawn. I filled the bucket with soapy water and scrubbed all the furniture until it shone. Then I tackled the porch itself. I swabbed the deck. I scrubbed each railing spindle, and I rinsed the whole thing down with the hose. It only took 3 hours.

“The fertilizer. I need to spread the fertilizer,” I said out loud as I headed across the now-drying porch.

Then I stopped, realizing that I needed to clean the smaller, but just as dirty porch on the second floor. Sighing just a little I headed upstairs with a fresh bucket and mop, windex and paper towels. I washed the furniture. I scrubbed the floor and left it to dry; it took an hour.

By the time I returned to the first-floor porch — on my way to the bag of fertilizer — only a few damp puddles remained. “It will only take a few minutes to wipe up the damp spots, lay the summer rugs, and drag the furniture into place,” I thought. “Still plenty of time to spread the fertilizer.”

I headed to the basement for an old towel to dry the damp stops on the porch, transferred another load of laundry, rinsed and dried the bucket and mop, and headed back outside. An hour later the front porch looked great! So I headed back to the second floor porch and put that one back together. It only took 30 minutes!

Sunday was pretty much a repeat of Saturday: Distractions on the way to the bag of fertilizer. The good news? I weeded three different gardens in the yard, transplanted a dozen perennials, cleaned off the rear patio cushions, swept the back porch and cooked a welcome home dinner for our daughter on Sunday. But I didn’t fertilize the hollies. It got dark before I got to it.

Today, it’s Monday. I headed outside first thing this morning in my pjs. Well, okay, I tossed an old coat over the pjs ‘cause I’m modest that way. And I headed straight for the bag of fertilizer. It took 30 minutes to fertilize the hollies. Make that 2 days and 30 minutes!

Do you start out with a project in mind only to be waylaid like me?

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Filed under Adventures of a Middle Age Mom, Cleaning, Cleanup, garden cleanup, gardening, New Jersey, NJ Blogger, spring cleanup

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May 4, 2012

Weight Watchers Friday: A No-Jiggle, No-Wiggle Sports Bra

Well, I weighed in this morning and notched a 0.4-pound weight loss for last week. Now you might not think that sounds like a lot, but if you’re a fellow Weight Watcher (WW) member, you know that any loss is a good loss. And to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t as active last week as I usually am! Lesson learned: My exercise program is vital to my continued weight loss.

You likely already know that my exercise of choice these days is running. Now I’m not a super fast or super competitive runner, but I am a stubborn runner.  I set goals for myself and I generally stick to them. For example, I started out walking on my trusty treadmill at a speed of 3.5 or 4.0. I worked that speed for a few weeks, then I cranked it up. Why? Because I wanted to burn more calories in less time and I wanted to challenge myself. As the weeks went by I increased my speed (after a 5-minute warmup, of course) to 4.0, 5.5, 6.0 and now 6.5, which is really kicking my butt. Right around 5.5, my ancient sports bra decided to give out. Thinking I’d just buy the same brand only in a smaller size I was bitterly disappointed to learn that my fave model was discontinued.

I needed a new sports bra asap or I risked getting bopped in the eyes. Now even though I’ve lost more than 25 pounds my chest is still sizable. And a sizable chest demands a seriously effective compression bra in order to run comfortably. The search was on! I visited every sports store in our area seeking a comfortable sports bra that actually, uh, compressed and contained my chest. I won’t stand for jiggle and I won’t stand for bounce. One evening after I’d searched another afternoon away I was complaining bitterly to my husband Mike about my so-far fruitless search. Mike listened. Then he flipped his computer open, typed a few words in the Google search bar and asked me, “Have you tried the Enell sports bra? It’s made for well-endowed women.”

I stared at Mike, amazed. I was amazed he’d found a possible bra in a matter of minutes and I was surprised at his words: “well endowed.” What a nice way to say “big boobs.”  I like it!

“No,” I said. “Send me the link!”

I checked out the company’s web site and read about what looked like the least-attractive sports bra I’d ever seen (and boy have a seen a few). I ordered one. Enell has a unique sizing system, which meant I measured myself and ordered a size 1. When it arrived I tried it on and couldn’t get the hooks hooked; this well-endowed woman was busting out all over.  So I packaged it up and exchanged it for a size 2. The size 2 fits like a dream; once the bra is on it’s like I’m not wearing a bra. It’s comfortable! The compression fit is excellent. The price point, at around $60, is a bit high, but I have to admit that I tried on a couple of other brands that were almost as expensive and they didn’t do the job.  Enell does what it promises!

So if you’re looking for a great compression sports bra and you are a well-endowed woman who doesn’t want to wiggle and jiggle when she runs you might want to check out an Enell. Your, uh, endowment will thank you.

Note: If you buy an Enell, please read the instructions that come with it. With 11 hooks up the front of the bra you must start with the bottom-most hook and work your way up, one at a time, in order to get the bra closed and fitted properly. The hooks are sturdy so don’t get cranky; be patient with yourself and the process the first few times you put it on. Adjust your, uh, endowment comfortably inside as you go (don’t leave them squished in the center where the hooks are). I love my new no-bounce, no-jiggle sports bra!

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May 2, 2012

Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop: The Craft of Writing; the Gift of Friendship

Last week I attended the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop (EBWW) in Dayton, OH. I drove 21 hours round trip. Yes, I really, really wanted to be there. At EBWW I met many, many (hundreds!) supportive, encouraging, talented people, mostly women. I drove out of New Jersey and it was like I time traveled to another planet, one where people checked their egos at the door. Or maybe the people I met really are this nice all the time?! I grew up in New Jersey so I’m just naturally suspicious.

The writers and social media mavens who led the EBWW Sessions generously shared their knowledge and stories; they gave us advice and they told us to keep in touch … and they meant it. Kudos to Nettie Reynolds, Anna Lefler, Debba Haupert, Dave Fox, Tim Bete and Tracy Beckerman, the talented individuals who ran the Sessions I attended. My fellow attendees and I are all striving to become better writers and learn how to better market ourselves; I think EBWW is a terrific way to honor both goals. We exchanged business cards and war stories; we received so much – support, encouragement, acceptance. Wow!

I wouldn’t trade my time at EBWW for anything: not cash, not jewelry, not even an American-made car. New friends like Lisa Trognola, who lives not too far from me in New Jersey, are worth more! Lisa nominated me and five other EBWW dinner tablemates for a Kreativ Blogger award. Lisa is a great writer, a funny writer, the kind of writer who makes me laugh out loud. I am honored she nominated me. Thanks, Lisa!

Having been nominated I am now supposed to share 7 facts about myself that you might find interesting.

<drumroll>

  1. My intuition rarely fails me; it kicks in early and often.
  2. I will attend BlogHer 2012 in New York City in August; this will be my first BlogHer event. Would you like to meet me there?
  3. I am tenacious so don’t tell me I can’t do something or I will stay up all night figuring out how to prove you wrong. Just sayin.
  4. I am an avid gardener and Master Gardener whose gardens were once featured on a Montclair, NJ Garden Tour called Roses to Rock Gardens, sponsored by the Van Vleck House & Gardens.
  5. I love cars, all kinds of cars, but especially muscle cars. Vrooom!
  6. I am a skilled seamstress who can (when pressed) make drapes, clothing and all manner of festive items.
  7. I know how to operate a chain saw, drill, band saw and practically any other power tool you can name. Step back and let me do it!

Part two of being a nominee is nominating other worthy bloggers. I agree with Lisa on all of her choices and hereby nominate additional worthy women bloggers below.

<drumroll>

Nancy of Dating Dementia is a single woman who is making big changes at mid life. She recently relocated and can now write about her former neighbors! You don’t want to miss her latest!

Sheri of My Life In the Fat Suit has a quirky sense of humor. A beautiful redhead with two (count’em) dimples, Sheri is self-deprecating and funny.

Dawn of Lighten Up Weber is another humor writer from Ohio —  what is it about Ohio  and humor writers anyway? One of her most recent essays (along with ones by Lisa and Barb Best), “Love Among the Nudists,” is about one of my fav vacation destinations; you can find the laugh-out-loud funny stuff here:

Michele of Michelle Freed is a humorist, columnist, journalist, public speaker and cheap therapist; please note that this is her description; I found her to be mostly a humorist!
Please give a click and read their blogs; your funny bone will thank you!

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April 30, 2012

Audi A5 Cab: A Diva Disguised as a Car

Dream car in the driveway.

In November 2010 I purchased my dream car, a highly engineered 2011 Audi A5 cabriolet. Dazzled by her Arum beige exterior and super-comfortable adjustable leather seats I drove her home convinced that a new and exciting chapter in my driving life was about to begin. And it did. Immediately.

  • We were involved in a hit and run at our local ShopRite within two weeks.
  • My dreamboat had three flats in just about as many weeks because her sexy low-profile tires and rockin’ rims couldn’t stand N.J. roads.

Yes, I am slave to a high-maintenance, German-built car that talks. I now fear parking lots and potholes. And the car that wants to tell me every little detail about how she feels. Whether I want to hear it or not.

The first of of 3 "tire incidents"

My dreamboat, whom I now call Pia (short for pain in the a**), is uber-sensitive. She and her two on-board computers (her yes-men, if you ask me) are constantly running engine and system self-checks. And when they find anything even just slightly amiss? Pia screams in anguish then sounds every alarm, bell and whistle in her vast repertoire. Low tire pressure from a change in weather? Pia is convinced she’s gasping her last ounce of air. A bubble develops in one of her cute but unreliable low-profile tires? Pia threatens an immediate and complete system shutdown. To protect herself from potential damage, you understand, never mind what might happen to me and mine stuck inside this languishing Audi in the fast lanes on N.J. highways. I’ve never owned a car with as many issues, both real and invented, until Pia.

My husband Mike, bless his soul, staged an intervention last fall; but only after Pia pulled her stubbed-tire act on him halfway across the great state of PA! Mike returned from that trip and immediately bought Pia four beefy new tires and four new rims so she’d stop screaming every time she folled over a seam in the road. Pia and her yes-men haven’t been heard from since, apparently assuaged by the fancy kicks from her Baby Daddy!

Until recently, that is.

My daughter Tory and I were headed two hours South on the Garden State Parkway in Pia; the sun was shining, the stereo was blasting ‘80s music and we were enjoying ourselves.

Suddenly, Pia yelled, “Oil! Add oil!”

Startled, I swerved toward the divider. “Oil? Impossible,” I thought and continued to drive. Then I noticed a new gauge had appeared on Pia’s dashboard: A doomsday countdown! Apparently I had 12 miles, no, 11 miles, no. Uh. The mileage decreased rapidly … indicating what? Would Pia be completely out of oil in a few miles?! Tory and I looked at each other, she rolled her eyes and nodded; I pulled into a rest area with 4 miles left on the doomsday countdown.

While I took deep calming breaths, Tory scoured Pia’s 2.5”-thick owner’s manual to find out what kind of oil she needed. Tory read about how Pia’s warrantee would be irrevocably voided if we dared put anything but Audi-approved oil in her. The more Tory read the more agitated I became. I figured oil was oil, but when you are a German-engineered vehicle I guess you get to be picky. I whipped out my phone and dialed Audi Care to see whether the oil I found in the rest area store would suffice. The Audi Care woman listened to my tale then immediately offered to send a tow truck out to tow Pia to the nearest dealer/service center so trained service techs could add the appropriate oil. Completely astonished at the thought, I declined, reasoning out loud, “Surely, surely I can add the oil myself?” After a little bit more pressing on my part the Audi Care woman told me it sounded like I had the right grade of oil, but I since I couldn’t find an Audi “approval” code on the oil container that she couldn’t guarantee my warrantee would be intact after I added it. Completely paranoid by now, I asked the Audi Care woman to patch me through to the nearest Audi dealer/service facility.

In short order I was connected to a really nice guy. I explained my dilemma; he soothed my fears. I obsessed about not finding the proper “approval” on the oilcan that would make it okay to pour that particular oil into my car’s engine; he asked me to relax. He said that the oil was fine and I could put it right in. He said he’d talk me through the process. At that point, I would have done anything he asked; I was that distressed. The doomsday countdown and the Audi Care woman together had me completely undone!

“Pop the hood,” he said patiently.

After one broken nail and three attempts, I opened the hood and looked into the engine compartment.

No engine?!

Oh wait! The entire engine was covered with a protective barrier, probably to prevent people like me from adding their own oil. Ah! Wait! A screw cap was located dead center in the covering. Audi may trust people like me to put oil in their own cars after all!

I unscrewed the cap, looking for the dipstick. You know, to see how much oil I had to add.

The service tech, who listened to my mumbling, said, “Audis don’t come equipped with dipsticks.”

“Well, how do I know how much oil to add?” I asked reasonably.

I could hear his smile as he replied, “When the car talks to you like yours did, it means you add a whole quart.”

“She was screaming like she was down to her last quart! She threw that doomsday countdown on her dashboard for a single quart of oil?” I asked.

Yes, folks. One. Single. Quart.

I’m not even going to ask, “What next?’ as I’m sure Pia has more drama up her diva sleeve!

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