Beulah as Biographer

My Life.

As told by Beulah, my car.

That's right, my car.

A car can tell a lot about a person, didja ever notice?

For instance,


I've got kids.
Lots of kids.
With kids comes the need for spare essentials in the back of the car.

Essentials such as

crayons
coloring books
hairbrushes
hairbands
socks
sweatshirts
blankets
umbrellas
word-find puzzle books
Mad Libs
used napkins
nearly empty french fry cartons
balloon animals from the last festival
soccer-ball-shaped erasers from the last soccer tournament
plastic rings from the last trip to the family fun place where $30 worth of tokens yielded 25 cents worth of plastic crap that was forgotten about before arriving back at home.















And here we have, from left to right:

My family.

Except, wait. One of them appears to be missing. Is that some cosmic indication that one of my kids is really missing?

Hold on.

.............

I'm back. All kids present and accounted for. Nice one, cosmos. You almost had me there.
Like my family in real life, they are getting a bit ragged. My kids need a bit of nagging here and there to take showers, clip their nails, wear deodorant. My sticker family needs a little help, too, to keep firmly plastered to the back of my car at all times. Like my real kids, they don't listen very well.
















Next sticker is my philosophy on life, in general:
Wag More, Bark Less.

I know several people that I hope will tailgate me just so they can get a good, close look at this message.

Followed by that sticker is the next:
Life is Good.

This sticker has taken a beating and is very difficult to see at this point.
In real life, this idea is hard to see sometimes, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Thank you, Beulah, for pointing that out. You are very wise, indeed.

Next is a skating sticker, b/c my Bella is a very graceful and talented ice skater. Beulah likes to brag on my kids. She's a very boasty gal.

Then comes our school name because I very stupidly like to let all the crazies know where my kids attend school. I know, I don't understand myself, either. At least I've smudged it out for the blog, so I know where to draw some semblance of a line.

Last sticker is good ol' "Exit 63", which is where I spent my growin' up years, and is the only shore destination for this family.





So then over my gas tank door thingy is a soccer ball to honor Rosie's committment and talent as a soccer goaltender. It is also a reminder of how much it costs in gas dollars to cart a child hither and yon to practices, games, and tournaments. But to paraphrase those commercials, seeing her leap sideways to stop that ball? Priceless.















Heading towards the front of the car is a giant Band Aid. Because poor Beulah has seen her share of scrapes and dings. The trim piece on the driver's door is no more, and the one behind it is soon to follow.
You can also see her grill is looking pretty busted up, and one of her eyes is hanging loose in its socket. Poor thing. Poor, pitiful old thing.
And you know, I forgot to take my keys out with me when I went to take the pictures, and I was far too lazy to go retrieve them, so I couldn't turn the car on and show you the odometer. Let me just tell you that this old gal and I have seen over 207,000 miles together. And the only thing I've needed to replace other than brakes and tires and oil was the alternator just recently.

Good girl, Beulah, good girl.
































This one here? This is Beulah's way of letting you know I loves me some Tastycake. When GMC performed their factory performance testing on the leather and the stitching and the springs, they weren't counting on someone like me getting in and out of the driver's seat time after time for 8 years and 200,000+ miles. No. No they weren't.

















And that's all you need to know about me.

My Life.

As told by Beulah, my car.

I think I see a second career for her after her retirement.