Ever since the demise of Pravda and Grit, I've had a hard time finding a news source I can trust.

I have been responsible for breaking many windows in my life.  We lived in a old house with a great basement for kids in Minneapolis.  Big concrete wall with a dinky little window that opened up to a scenic window well.  Meaning, outside of a hint of sunshine, you couldn't see much.  I managed to break the window with a tennis ball.  Dad replaced the glass with plywood.  No more sunlight. No more broken glass.

We had a garage with a basketball goal over it when we moved to Ann Arbor.  Over the years, as the glass got broken, plywood replaced the glass.  For a while, it looked like the door was leering at you what with the patterns of glass and plywood.  Woe to the door to door salesgirl with a low cut blouse...

My parents lived in dire fear that a baseball, football, soccer ball, snow ball or body would come flying through the scenic plate glass window looking out onto the front yard of that same house.  I am pleased to report that they lived in fear for nothing.  It wasn't for a lack of trying, but I somehow managed to not break that window.

After Dad and I moved to WI, I had a problem with forgetting my keys.  I could always tell you where they were inside the house.  Did me no good when I was outside the house, but there ya go.  So, I broke the small window in the front door with a gloved hand, reached through like a crook, and unlocked the door.  In I went. I did this enough times, Dad replaced the glass with plastic.  Cheaper to replace, and harder to break.  I figured it out.  He wasn't impressed.  *shrug*  He got over it.  I hope.

I put my arm through a window and cut it up pretty well.  Still have the scars.  Lost my temper and rather than hit the girl I was mad at, I broke the window.  As I recall, Dad offered to put me in a bunker with no more windows...cheaper that way.

Car windows and me don't get along.  Oh, I can see through them okay, but I tend to break them.  Not the windows so much, but the rolling up and down thingie's.  I've had problems with most cars I've owned.  Eventually, sooner or later (most likely sooner) the windows have come off their track and when they roll down, they roll up funny.  Takes two hands. Not fun at 70 MPH.  Or very safe.  

It's even worse when you start talking about power windows.  Which are great, mind you.  Most of the time.  When they work.  And when they don't, you can have problems.  Like the recent problem I had.

Elaine and I were going to Hannibal and had stopped to take a look at the Mississippi River from one of those 'Scenic Outlook' places by the side of the road.  I saw a neat photo op in the woods.  The sunlight was really dappling them leaves back in there and the contrast of light and dark was something.  Except Elaine pointed out some Poison Oak.  Didn't want any part of that.  Which is where the problem started...

I "had a better idea" which involved rolling down the balky window on the passenger side of the van, taking my picture, rolling back UP the window and moving on down the road.  You can see where this is heading, can't you?

That's right.  Window jumped the track and went "THUNK" as it struck the bottom of the inside of the door.  I couldn't prop it up in the opening because I couldn't get a handle on the window.  It was way down there.  I was also without a screwdriver.  Which meant Elaine couldn't close the window.

I felt terrible.  And like a fool.  And Deja Vu all over again.  And what's funny is Elaine wasn't as bothered as I was.  So, we continued on our way to Hannibal, took in the sights (never straying too far from the car with a hole where a window should have been) and went along to Quincy for lunch.  

You know what happens next, don't you?  I don't really need to tell you that it rained, do I?

The upside of having an iPhone is the weather apps.  The downside of owning an iPhone is the weather apps.  Which told me that there was a whopperjawed storm headed our way.  With a great big hole where a window should be.  *sigh*

We stopped to buy some screwdrivers, and went looking for an overpass to park under.  Naturally, they were all on vacation or something.  Never find a darned overpass when you really need one...so we stopped at a local burger joint.  Just in time to improvise.  Which meant I found a poncho we had bought a few years ago for going to a Packers football game in Green Bay.  It ended up not raining, so the poncho was still all folded up, nice and new and fresh plastic-ee smelling.

Not for long.

Neccissity is a mother...and brother were we in dire need.  We elected to take that poncho, open the door, open the sliding door behind the passenger door and sort of tuck, fold and insert so that the hole where the window should have been was covered up enough to avoid a flood inside the van.  Meanwhile, we went inside to eat and get odd looks from the other patrons.  Except for the one guy who did stop and ask us if we needed any help.

When the worst of the storm passed, we decided to leave.  With the poncho still covering the window, and flapping in the breeze.  Which meant that the metal grommet on one corner was bang-bang-banging away on the sliding door.  Doing who knows how much damage to the paint, body and my nerves.   Elaine remained very sanguine about the whole thing.

Most of the rain was gone, so we stopped and removed the poncho from the window.  Elaine used it more as a blanket from there to home.  With sporadic dribbles of rain and such, we made it home relatively unscathed.  We returned the poncho to the hole where the window should be and went inside.

At one point, I apologized to Elaine for ruining the day by mucking about with the balky window.  Her response?  "It wasn't ruined.  Just because we had to think and use our imaginations a little to solve a problem doesn't mean the day was ruined.  It was a good day."

No wonder I love that woman.

And as a final thought?  When I hugged her later, her hair smelled like sheets that had been hanging on the line to dry all afternoon.  That, my friends, is one the greatest smells ever...