Things have been a little busy around here lately…what can I say.
Well, I just wrote an entry here and pulled it to be a Motherlode for next week. Sorry, folks. So close….
Hope everyone is well!
This was my blog. Open that link. Oh, my.
I can’t imagine Roz’s place without Bob (who came inside ten seconds after she took that pic, I swear) and I’m sure Zena still loves Euguene. No, she didn’t change his name.
Another little Missy strolled by a few weeks later, and she is Sweet Pea who is curled up beside me right now. Roz’s Cat Factory has been shut down now (she still feeds and houses MomCat and Robert when he remembers to check in. She recently told me of a newbie who has been showing up periodically, a butterscotch baby I named Werther. Not sure if he’s a permanent resident or just passing through.
BUT THOSE LITTLE FACES.
That is why I’m a Crazy Cat Lady. What can I say.
Sorry. Been hectic summer, heading out to track now, plus, Webgod is working on a new site so I’m sure it’s just because I have that I’m-gonna-get-new-boots-and-I-don’t-wanna-wear-my-old-ones kinda thing. Well, I love my old boots, all of them. But I can’t wait for a spanky new website.
Lemon Aid got renewed for this coming fall – yippee!
Sometimes, my worlds collide.
Most Motherlode readers know me as mom of Christopher and Ari, sister, daughter, friend and catmaster. I made that last one up.
I have a whole other life, where I write and talk about cars. A lot. I have a column and I take trips and I have a TV show and I drive a lot of amazing cars and a lot of normal cars and deal with winter tires and leasing agreements and rust and warranties and buy this, not that.
I love what I do, but I always say that Motherlode is my heart, and my Motherlode readers are my lifeblood.
Last weekend, in a totally unexpected turn of events, I got to combine the two. I had the use of a Lamborghini Aventador, which for car people is a $563,000 fantasy and for non-car people is the Batmobile in the latest movie.
I decided to spend the weekend giving Twitter followers rides; I designated spots and people came out and we took hundreds of pictures. This car is an absolute work of art, and the chance to share it is probably the best part of my job.
More amazing than the car? Hamilton area readers. I got told over and over that people had been reading Motherlode for years. This is humbling. It’s kind. Many of you knew about the car because you follow me for Motherlode, and the resulting conversations were a lovely mix of “nice to finally meet you in person, I feel like I know you” and “wow, will you look at this car.”
For me, this is the best of both worlds.
Everything was going smoothly until a series of muckups meant I had to leave my second rendezvous location ahead of schedule. With a missing phone and other things that can only be called excuses but which still led to me fumbling the ball, I headed to the next allotted spot.
Two hours later, with my phone back in my hand, I saw the first of two missed messages.
“You just left the parking lot!!! My son is crushed! Are you coming back?”
Thud. My heart. The other note was from Martin, who I contacted and who was super cool and kind about my screw-up; but “my son is crushed!” was more than Motherlode could bear. Here was the worlds colliding thing playing out: in Car World, things can happen that you can’t control, and it’s always about the car. In Motherlode World, I’d let a kid down. I asked his mom for their address.
“He’s going bonkers right now. Are you sure?”
Yup. I was sure. The car can be heard from a couple of blocks away, and Caleb and his sister Elena were waiting for me as I turned the corner of their street. Caleb was jumping up and down. Bonkers, indeed.
I was apologizing as I got out of the car, but Caleb was just staring at the Lamborghini.
I flipped the doors up and told him to hop in, and his eyes widened. “I can get in?”
I laughed and told him I’d take him for a ride, all while signalling his sister that she was next, and off we went.
“Oh! There’s my friend!” Caleb squeaked as we turned a corner, pointing to a young lad loping down the sidewalk. I slowed the car to let his friend get closer, and turned to Caleb.
“Caleb, I am about to tell you one of life’s most important lessons. The only thing better than driving in a supercar, is having one of your friends see you driving in a supercar.”
That should mend a broken heart.
I crashed in on Rozzy and Daryl at the cottage for a few days. There’s just something about showing up empty handed and letting them wait on me hand and foot that I find appealing. Call me crazy.
She pointed out something I’d never noticed: MAGGIE IS IN THE WALLS.
In the paneling in the bathroom, MY BABY IS RIGHT THERE, OVER AND OVER. I couldn’t believe it. I took about 6 pictures but mostly I wanted to rip it all down and bring it home with me.
I miss my baby.
I’m not sure how to comment. So I won’t. Only that Cairo needs a copy of the office rules. Pea has also requested a meeting with HR.
It’s the car’s official name, like mine is Ms. Lorraine Joan Sommerfeld. Yeah, just like that.
I have this supercar, which is awesome. It really is. I’m spending the weekend taking Twitter followers for rides; laugh at social media if you will, but I believe it’s a fun, effective way to reach people. And I want to reach people who don’t get a chance to sit in a car like this. I’m staking out two locations in Toronto tomorrow, and then doing Hamilton/Burlington on Sunday. Yes, I’m working this weekend…but look at that car!
V12 engine, 700 HP, zero to 100km in 3 seconds. Ari is driving my chase vehicle tomorrow – a Mustang convertible that will be perfect for the videographer; I’m lucky to have it for this gig. And a kid who doesn’t mind spending his weekend with his Mom. Well, I’m paying him. But still.
Oh, and the truth behind these kinds of pics?
all photo credits to Cort Reithofer
I was up at 5:30. I’m so glad I had
. Scared the cats off the bed I was laughing so hard…
Getting stuff ready to head north for next week. We trucked a big couch up there a few weeks back and now Roz and I are arguing what colour the couch is. It’s mossy green. She has Gilly posing Finn (a white dog) on it to prove to me it’s brown. It’s mossy green. These are the things we fight about regarding the cottage. I just sent her a counterpicture. When she reads this she will roll her eyes. Gilly will be the tie breaker and try to discover yet another way to say “I agree with both of you.”
Ari has lost count of who is coming up north. I seriously have no idea. This should be fun.
I will be checking in if I feel like it, but mostly I’ll be lying on a dock or posing a lovely Jaguar F Type against some Muskoka scenery.