Jamieson had his 2-month doctor appointment this past Thursday. It was supposed to have been on Wednesday, but we discovered what happens when you mix one Toyota Prius, an empty gas tank, and two sleep deprived new parents. Note to self: Never ever accidentally let the gas tank run dry. The electric engine only gets you so far.

It was almost comical, actually. I noticed that the “get fuel, you idiot” light was on (as it had been for the last three days) as soon as I started up the car, but since we were running late, decided to fill up after Jamie’s doctor appointment. This, as it turns out, was a bad idea. Halfway there, I realized that I wasn’t getting much acceleration. I’d push on the gas and pretty much nothing happened, unless I was going downhill. The “maintenance required” light on the dash was on, and I thought, great, there is something horribly wrong with the car. Perfect. We have to take it in to the dealer this afternoon. Fantastic. $$$$$$.

About a mile from the doctor’s office, Doc noticed that we had no “bars” on the battery meter on the dashboard display, AND we had no gas. The car gradually slowed to a halt. Luckily, Walnut Hill Lane over White Rock Creek is wide and has a shoulder. At Doc’s urging (because I was confused as to what was happening), I managed to pull the car off the road before it completely died. Jamie was hungry and had begun to cry heartily in the backseat. I climbed in the back and fed him while Doc walked about a mile down the road to a gas station. I hoped that nothing would happen where we would need to call each other since I had forgotten my cell phone. I also hoped that no police officers stopped by, since the car was three months out of inspection. (My plan to get out of that ticket was to cry and explain that I was a new mom and sleep deprived and had completely forgotten about getting the car inspected. No, I have no shame anymore.)

Doc returned with the gas can (my hero!!) and we tried to start up the car again. No luck. And now, all the horrible emergency warning lights on the dash had come on. So we called our roadside assistance and prepared to wait an hour for the tow truck to arrive. I took Jamie in his carrier out of the car and stepped over the guardrail onto the rocks and underbrush to wait (in case the car got hit, it would be safer for us to be not inside of it).

But then — Doc got the car started! I’m still not sure exactly how, but we think he pressed the ignition button twice and that maybe “reset” it. We waited a few minutes for the battery to charge up a bit, then hightailed it to the nearest gas station to fill up. We cancelled the tow truck, the warning lights on the dash began to blink off one by one, and the battery level indicator crept up to normal levels again.

Later that afternoon, at the Toyota place where we got our inspection and oil change done, Doc asked the technician what would, theoretically, happen if the gas tank ran dry and the battery fully depleted. He said that the battery COULD be recharged, but there was only one guy in the region who could do it, and he’d have to be flown in from Houston with his special recharging equipment, and it would take more than 24 hours and cost us more than $2,000. Which, frankly, seems a little far-fetched to me, but the point is that we will NEVER EVER  LET THE GAS TANK RUN DRY AGAIN.

So. Back to the baby. He now weighs 12 pounds 3 ounces and is almost 24 inches long. This means he’s put on 3-1/2 pounds and grown 3-1/2 inches since he was born! I guess my milk is good. The pediatrician thinks that since the Prevacid isn’t working as well as we think it should be, that acid reflux may not be his problem. And she doesn’t think that he’s allergic to milk proteins either, although she wants me to stay off of dairy for another week.

Oh yeah, I’d forgotten to mention before now that I’ve been dairy-free since Thursday, February 5. Jamie’s poop has had a sticky texture (and at least once, it was FOAMY coming out — think cappuccino froth or dish suds); the advice nurse thought it might be a milk allergy and had me go off dairy. If you know me, you know that I love cheese, ice cream, butter, and all things cow in origin. It has been pretty hard for me to eschew milk products completely, but I would do anything to help my baby feel better. What I have found most surprising, though, is that the hardest part of this hasn’t been my cravings for cheese or ice cream — in fact, I haven’t been craving them much at all. The hardest part has been finding things to eat that DON’T include dairy products.

Anyway, the pediatrician thinks that he might just be plain old colicky. Hopefully, he will start to outgrow it in a few weeks.

I think he’s beginning to get his days and night straightened out. When I feed him in the middle of the night, I can usually put him right back down to sleep in his bassinet (after burping, changing, and reswaddling, of course). That doesn’t happen during the day. I have to wonder if part of it is due to our consistent practices in keeping the room dark and quiet at night — no TV, no lights except for a nightlight, no loud talking — and playing the ocean waves.

We are also beginning to try to figure out a plan for building up my milk supply and our frozen milk storage. I go back to work in a month and need to have at least 3 or 4 feedings ready for Jamie, per day.

Everyone has a lot of “firsts” in their lives. The ones I’m thinking of here are the milestones on your journey to becoming an adult, the ones that made you suddenly feel like you grew a foot taller, like your mind expanded to places you didn’t even know existed, like you’ve just grown quite perceptibly older and wiser.

To that end, I present to you a few of my firsts. I’d love to hear yours.

First Car
A 1980 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. Yes, I drove a pimpmobile. It was two-tone! Metallic gray on the bottom, with light gray vinyl on top. It was my dad’s car. When we moved to Dallas in 1980, his new company helped him buy it as a perk.

Now keep in mind that when I say “first car” I do not mean “the car that I got for my very own when I acquired a driver’s license.” That did not happen. I was allowed to drive The Pimpmobile to high school on the few rare occasions that my dad did not take it to work. When I was a freshman in college in 1990, my parents came to visit me on Parents’ Weekend and instead of arriving in the Olds as I was expecting, they arrived in my dad’s brand new red sports car. The Olds was now being used by my younger brother, who was learning to drive.

I did not have a car at college until my senior year, when, much to the chagrin of both my younger brothers, who had just recently installed a state-of-the-art stereo and big new speakers, I was allowed to keep the Olds full-time. But it still wasn’t MY car; it was just on loan because I had an apartment off campus and needed to be able to make trips to the grocery store and such.

During move-in and move-out of my freshman, sophomore, and junior years in college, I was able to pack everything I owned into that car, including a mini-fridge. It was a little strange, having my life packed so neatly into a single automobile.

After I graduated, my parents sold me their 1990 Honda Accord, manual transmission (another car I loved). The last time I drove The Pimpmobile was in 1996 after somebody plowed into my Honda and sent it into the repair shop for three weeks. My dad and youngest brother were kind enough to let me borrow it so I could get to and from work.

And of course, the car had its quirks. The older it got, the quirkier the quirks became, and we used to joke that as much as we wished it would croak for good, it simply refused to. The air conditioning stopped working some time in 1989 and we never got it fixed. The ceiling lining was ripped and full of holes, and had started to sag in the middle so much that we had to hot-glue it back in place every few months. The rearview mirror would routinely fall off. The antenna was gone and the non-digital radio (yes, kids, this was back in the day when you had to turn a dial and watch the little orange bar slide left and right across the stations until you hit on one that wasn’t static) didn’t pick up stations very well at all. And the biggest quirk of all: the car nearly always died at intersections or whenever you slowed down or came to a stop. I got so good at popping the transmission into neutral, restarting the car, switching it back into drive and gently stepping on the gas, that I almost didn’t even have to think about it.

Mom was furious that dad thought this car was safe enough for her children to drive around town, but he wouldn’t sell it and get a used car for us.

And if he had, I wouldn’t have had stories nearly this good!

First Kiss
Totally not even worth mentioning. I was sixteen, and neither of us knew what we were doing. I didn’t even really like the guy, I just realized that it had to happen some time and the guy I actually wanted to kiss didn’t know I existed. So why not get it over with, with someone who was willing?

First Drink
Not counting the sips of wine that I was allowed to have with holiday dinners, the first time I drank was when I was 19. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I was prim about things like alcohol up to this point; I think it was more a combination of my own late-bloomer naivete, a strait-laced rule-following boyfriend, and not liking the behaviour of friends and acquaintances who regularly got drunk. But I was feeling rather rebellious about a lot of things at this point so I thought what the hell, I want to try it!

My friend Peter invited me to the dorm room of a mutual friend to watch movies, and we decided to illegally underagedly drink rum and cokes. He knew I hadn’t really had alcohol before, and when I asked him to make mine weak, he instead made it REALLY strong. And me not knowing what strong vs. weak tasted like, drank the whole thing way too fast. I don’t remember much except lying on the floor laughing.

Today after lunch I saw a car with a banana peel draped over its door handle:

I’ve been playing around with the nightshot mode on Doc’s camera. I like the effect I get when there’s still a little ambient light.

My garden is growing! Some of it, anyway. I may not have any tomatoes or morning glories, but by god I’m going to have lots and lots of zucchini this summer.

Piglet
This awesome little SmartCar parks in my parking lot at work sometimes after hours. The license plate says “PIGLET.” (I’ll wait for your cute fit to die down before continuing…)

They’re gas-powered, get incredible mileage (probably similar or better than my hybrid Prius), and cost about $25,000 US. Yes, you read that right, 25 grand for this car. I really truly wish that people in this country would get on the ball and buy smaller cars like this one (check out the monstrosity parked next to it) but for that kind of money, I’m not sure it’s going to happen for the SmartCar.

Squishy Little World
I’m not certain what this is, exactly, but I stepped on it. It made for a cool photo. Kind of like a little planet, sitting there on the concrete.

If nothing else, at least I followed through with one of my newest goals: that I would NOT complete my open water dives. And I didn’t! Go, me!

Doc and K1 and BB, on the other hand, all got their certifications. I didn’t realize that the lake at Aquarena Springs was only 10 feet deep. I don’t know that I would have been quite as freaked out in water that shallow, but I still think I made the right decision. I’m proud of all of you guys for sticking with it and passing all your tests!

Several people have said some very nice and supportive things to me, trying to get me to feel better about not going through with it. It helps. Thanks, guys. :) Part of me still feels like a big fat whiny baby, though.

The other thing is, if I get to Belize and start kicking my own ass for not getting my certification, I can get certified there. I do like having that option.

The Prius is a fine travelling car. Roomy, quiet, fantastic gas mileage. I freakin’ love that hatchback.

My 1-year-and-2-week-old digital camera ceased functioning after I’d taken only three photos of the divers. I did not drop it or get it wet or anything of the sort. The lens is stuck open and makes a horrid grinding sound whenever I turn the camera on. It grinds for a second, beeps, and shuts itself off. It wasn’t a cheap camera, and I am thoroughly pissed.

One thing about vacation that bothers me is eating out all the time. I get sick of it really fast. I like my own cooking.

Aquarena is kind of an interesting place. It’s sort of a ecological learning center now, but it used to host things like Ralph the Swimming Pig, mermaid shows (Doc tells me there’s a kind of underwater amphitheatre) and glass-bottom boats (that still run), and there’s this awesome looking abandoned cable car station with lines that stretch across the lake to the hills beyond.

More later.

This afternoon I took The Aluminum Falcon (as I’m calling him temporarily) out to the grocery store for the first time. His hatchback trunk holds a lot of groceries, all nice and neatly stacked. He has a “cargo net,” although I’m not quite sure yet what it’s for. Maybe to hold breakable things? It does seem to prevent things from sliding all over the place.

I’m really happy about having a new car. Did I mention that this is the first new car that I have ever had? It’s also a first for Doc. My Saturn was a year old when I bought it in 1998; my Honda Accord was five years old when I bought it from my parents in 1995. I loved that car and hated to sell it, but it kept having the same problems over and over again and I got tired of paying multiple hundreds of dollars to get it fixed every few months. And my 1981 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, which was never really “mine” per se, was the car that I learned to drive on and had full-time my senior year in college. It had no air conditioning and would die at every stoplight when the temperature was below 60 degrees. But it just wouldn’t stop running. At times I wished it would.

Today was nice and sunny and cold outside, so of course I was completely in the mood to cook all day. I made a dozen banana muffins and a mini loaf of banana bread, a fruit salad, some fresh squeezed grapefruit juice, and a delicious beef stew called Carbonnade à la Flamande. Normally I’m not much of a beef stew fan, or a beef fan in general unless it’s in the form of a hamburger or a cheesesteak sandwich. But this was very tasty. It also garnered the Murdock Seal of Approval, which is always an honor.

Carbonnade à la Flamande

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 1/2 pounds boneless chuck roast, trimmed and cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
4 strips bacon, diced (uncooked)
1 cup chopped onion
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 (14-ounce) can beef broth
1 cup water
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon fresh thyme (or 1 teaspoon dried)
2 bay leaves
1 (12-ounce) bottle dark beer
Freshly cooked brown rice

Combine first 5 ingredients in a large zip-top plastic bag. Seal; shake to coat.

Turn the heat on a crockpot or slow-cooker to high.

Heat a large stockpot over medium-high heat. Add bacon to pan; cook 1 minute. Add beef mixture; cook 3 minutes or until browned. Remove beef from pan.

Add onion and garlic to pan; sauté 2 minutes. Add broth and water, scraping pan to loosen browned bits.

Place beef in the crockpot. Add broth/onion mixture, brown sugar, vinegar, tomato paste, mustard, thyme,bay leaves, and beer. Let simmer 2 hours on high, and another hour on low heat, or until beef is tender. Discard bay leaves.

Serve over hot cooked brown rice.

We picked up our new car tonight!! We are now the owners of a 2007 Prius hybrid. Push-button start (like booting up a computer), iPod jack built in, GPS navigation, 50MPG, good cup holders. I’m very excited.

Here he is in our garage:

Poor Prometheus. I think he knew he was about to be replaced. He started shuddering at stoplights today on my way home from work. Looks like we got the new car just in time.

One question remains: What do we name the new one? My vote goes to Daedalus or The Aluminum Falcon. Yes I am a big nerd.

I had a flat tire yesterday. My dad noticed it as he was taking some stuff out to their car — he and Mom were getting ready to drive back to Houston after spending Thanksgiving with us. My spare was also flat, so Dad drove me and the tire to Firestone to get a new one. I spoke to the guy behind the counter, showed him the paperwork from when I bought the tire only 2 years ago, took him out to Dad’s car to retrieve the flat tire, and stood with him while he determined whether it could to be fixed or if I’d need a new one.

A few minutes later, he came back to give me the verdict… and he spoke directly to my father the entire time. My father, who up until now had been standing in the background.

It’s not like this guy was old enough to have remembered a time before the women’s movement either.

My car is smart. A couple of days ago the left turn signal started blinking and clicking at twice the rate of the right. I thought “Oh great… just one more thing to add to the Broken List,” a list that includes Leaky Sunroof When Raining, Barely Working Automatic Windows, Fake Woodgrain Peeling Off, Holes In Pleather Seats, Ancient Multicolored Carpeting That Used To All Be Pretty Light Gray, Clock That Can’t Be Reset, Broken Radio Knobs, and Broken Antenna, for starters.

Doc figured out yesterday that it was blinking in doubletime because the front turn-signal light bulb has burned out. How cool is that, letting me know when a light has gone out! Otherwise, how would I ever figure it out? (“No, Officer, I didn’t know my turn signal was broken.” That’s how, probably).

i had a really weird dream last night/early this morning, and when i halfway woke up from it i made myself repeat the major plot points out loud so as not to forget them, and lo and behold i think it worked!

i decided to drop by brittney’s house unannounced, late at night. she lived in plano, in a house with her mom and i think her sister and brother. it was actually like a combination of brittney and kim. i got in the car and started driving towards the highway. there was a girl walking in the road in front of me, and as i approached i realized it was brittney’s goddaughter taylor. as i drove behind her the dream shifted into me walking behind her as she walked up the stairs at brittney/kim’s house.

i started to wonder why i came over unannounced, because she didn’t seem very happy to see me. and i stood there thinking, oh my god, why am i here? doc was with me now, and he stayed in the house while i went back outside to the car. i’d parked it on the street near several other vehicles. but now it was gone. i frantically ran up and down the street thinking i’d parked it somewhere that i just didn’t remember, but it was definitely gone.

i ran back inside and got doc, and told him what had happened. as he came back outside with me, a police car drove slowly up the street with its lights flashing. and i thought “now that’s odd, i didn’t even call them yet, how did they know to come out here?” but it drove on by up to the other end of the street. we followed it and near the end of the street there was a family standing outside their house. all the kids were running around playing in the street and in the yards. i asked a man what was going on and he said “they’re still inside.”

i looked at his house and saw huge, cartoonish, oversized ladders poking out of his roof from broken skylights. each of the ladders had a big triple-hook thing hanging from it by a rope. the police cars were on the street and i realized that some people had broken into his house while they were out, and that they were still inside the house and the police were dealing with them.

then i spotted my car sitting in the middle of the street, and realized that the thieves had stolen my car, driven it up to the end of the street, and then broken into this man’s house. a minute later i saw the police struggling on the front lawn with a man, wrapped in ropes and hooks, who was covered in blood and struggling violently like a caged animal. they were having trouble holding him. it was extremely frightening, and i was worried that none of the children or the parents were getting out of the way of this potentially explosive scene. i think that they eventually subdued him.

i went over to check on my car, and it looked okay except for the driver’s side window which was broken out. i found myself getting disproportionately upset about that, considering what this family had just gone through. i got the attention of one of the officers and told him that the car i’d reported stolen was now found, but it had been used by the thieves and they’d broken out my window.

this was when i woke up.

i think that i’ve been subconsciously thinking a lot lately that our car is not going to last too much longer. little things have been going wrong with it for years, and i think i’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop with it finally dying beyond repair, or even getting stolen or broken into.

it wouldn’t be the end of the world; the car is 9 years old and i’ve had it for 8. i just hate the thought of having a car payment again!!

one a/c compressor and valve: $1100

one temperature sensor and water pump: $550

new brakes and cylinders: $450

not having a new car payment: priceless

driving a rented toyota echo that smells like someone peed in the air conditioning system: $15 discount

discovering that the toyota echo is the crappiest piece of shit car i’ve ever driven: no big surprise

maxxing out the credit card: it’s the american way.

The Saturn’s battery died. We had no warning. Luckily it died at home, in the garage, but that meant that Doc had to get home from work via train, bus, and a one-mile walk. We’d hoped to get Roy to give us a jump start the next morning but he wasn’t home. We walked to the Auto Zone on the corner and bought a new battery and Doc toted it home (they’re godawfully heavy) and installed it himself. My hero!!

Today, stopped at a 7-11 on the way to go see The Day After Tomorrow (plot: holy crap, the world is freezing over, tasty little Jake Gyllenhaal and his dad still-hot Dennis Quaid must save the day!), and parked next to a white midsize midclass sedan with the windows down and blaring rap music, no driver. We came back out to the car with our sodas and a toy poodle the color of pink grapefruit started barking at us from the passenger seat. I was so tickled to see a bright pinkish-orange poodle that it didn’t even occur to me until it was too late to use my camera phone to take a picture, so this purple poodle photo I found online will have to do. Actually it didn’t occur to me at all, it occurred to Doc, but it was still too late, the owner had come out to her car. Now that I think about it, I probably could have asked the woman if I could take a little picture of her “cute” dog, but I didn’t think of that. What could possibly drive someone to dye their dog?? Or paint their dog’s toenails? Or tie their ears up with bows??? Or make them wear a freakin’ TUTU??