Long live Big Stinky

Tacoma, Washington, has something of a smelly reputation. I can't remember what was the cause of Tacoma's smelliness (it was pulp mills here in our town), but it was distinct and unpleasant, and residents of our fair state knew it well. That reputation went briefly national when Arsenio Hall did a series of jokes in his monologue that all began, "Tacoma is so stank..."

But when Toyota was putting their new pickup into production and conducting market research on names, they found the name "Tacoma" was associated with stank only in the Pacific Northwest--relatively small potatoes, market-wise. They gambled that we would buy the truck anyway.

And we did, back in 1995. But the city's reputation lives on in our minds, and we christened that truck Little Stinky.

Fast forward to last week, when we made ourselves the proud owner of another Tacoma. It's white like our first truck, has a double cab instead of the legless-children backseat of the access cab on our '95, and has the increased heft, horsepower, and height of this generation of Tacomas, so its name was obvious: Big Stinky.

We're pretty excited. The tow capacity is a staggering 6,500 pounds--literally 3,000 pounds more than the van--so we're abundantly covered for our little trailer, and we have some cushion if we ever want to upgrade. And it's cute in a manly way and kind of fun to drive once you put your brain in truck mode. My favorite feature is the tonneau cover, a nifty contraption that folds forward in sections so you can access the whole bed without having to crawl. Slick!

Other than car shoppingand starting to prep the van for sale, the week was devoted to clearing out the house. I took a big load to charity and sold 1000 paperbacks to HPB (for a whopping $10--I should have given them to charity too). All of the art and tchotchkes are either packed up or gone. And last night I sorted and stored my collection of office supplies and am officially banned from ever shopping a back-to-school sale again.

We have bare walls and empty shelves all through the house. It's a little surreal to look at, and I absolutely love it.

What's left: the furniture and the contents of the kitchen cupboards (most of which we're keeping at least until after the wedding houseguests leave), the garage (*shudder*), the music gear, the electronics, our personal clothing and belongings, and all the things I won't be able to see until all that is dealt with.