More about school.

This chick on campus told me yesterday that she takes classes during the summer at Ivy Tech, a local community college, because all the credits transfer, they offer summer financial aid (while IUPUI doesn't), and it's a hell of a lot cheaper.
So I'm trying to find time to make an appointment with an advisor on both campuses before it's too late to register for summer classes (or, rather, get motivated to do so), as well as reminding myself to find out if I can mentor the Psych class over the summer.
Charlie has his own advising appointment – with someone at Ball State for a teaching certificate program they have. Plus, he got a job offer from someone he used to work with at the club.
I'm also trying to figure out why Charlie is so focused on playing football when he has all of the other stuff going on. I honestly don't know why he's so determined to fill up his plate. It seems as though, no matter what he's doing, it's never quite enough. And I'm apparently not entertaining enough. The hour and a half we see one another each day would be better spent at practice or the gym it seems. Okay, I jest a little. I'm honestly concerned he's going to totally burn himself out.
Oh, well. He's a big boy.

I just found out that two of my long-time friends have agreed to take my advice and “get to know one another better.” Dana and Liz have both been a part of my life for about 10 years, give or take. They've hung out together as a result of both of them knowing me, but have never really spent any time just talking. They have very similar backgrounds and a lot in common, though you wouldn't realize it at first glance. But they're both coming out of nasty relationships – she was with this guy for a year(+) who was a total dick to her, and he is getting divorced from a woman I've never liked who treats him horribly as well. They both had crappy childhoods and crappy parents, but both are motivated, responsible, and ambitious.
90% of me is thrilled that they're at least taking the time to get to know one another – even though that means just hanging out at my place so it's not “too weird” as they put it – but 10% of me is slightly jealous. Dana and I have had a “thing” that wasn't consummated until years and years after we'd met, so I don't like the idea of his attention being diverted onto another woman. I know, I know. It's incredibly selfish of me and I'm involved, so why worry about it? That's why I think they'd be a good match. They're both really good friends of mine and if I was going to see either of them with someone, I would hope it was someone like the other. If that makes any sense.
I'm happy to play match-maker, but I want them to do it “right,” not jump into something so soon after they got out of relationships. I think they're mainly bored and perhaps a little lonely, so I don't want to create any drama.
It's just time they got to know the other person a little bit better. As I've probably stated in the above few paragraphs twelve times already.

The new housemate, Cavan (bless his weird, 21 year-old little heart), is a Journalism major and says the only thing that would keep him in Indy is that IUPUI offers a Journalism degree, which is not offered at U of W, which is where he'd be transferring. I recently discovered how unusual it is that my degree offers concentrations – tracks, specializations, whatever.
I have my choice of four different options, but there's only one that suits my needs; the clinical rehabilitation track. Since I'm going for a BA I get to take a foreign language rather than shove a whole bunch of math onto my schedule, but since I paid absolutely no attention to the math portion of the placement test, I totally bombed. My recommendation for math courses is somewhere around 8th grade level. Like, two or three classes behind the basic college-level M118 or 111 or whatever it is.
Shit.
One good thing is that I can take one of three different senior capstones. One is conducting your own research with BS's have to take; one is a practicum (I'd probably choose something like group therapy); one is a seminar where the student compiles information for graduate programs, gets together a CV, gets letters of guarantee for three different recommendations . . . that kind of thing.
While the practicum sounds the most interesting, the seminar may be my best bet. I can force professors to swear they'll write references for me, and figure out what the hell I'll need to do for grad school.
The dilemma is whether I want just a Master's, or if I'd prefer to go for the ol' PhD. The latter guarantees more money, of course, but the former takes less time. And I could still teach at a high school level. Hell, my literature intstructor last semester wasn't even finished with her Master's and she was teaching a course. How terribly hard can it be?
But what I want to do after I get my BA is still up in the air. While I want to work in art therapy, I also want to keep my options open. So, what is my minor going to be? Social Work, Education, Special Education, Art?
Oh, yeah – Herron doesn't offer an art minor. Bastards. They won't even let you take anything beyond Art History and Art Appreciation if you're not enrolled as a student there. Snobs.

What do you see here?

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Money, money, money.

I spent most of the weekend attempting to read and do homework for my classes. Unfortunately, what I ended up doing was spend some money I didn't really have. I got the check in the mail that came from our Etch insurance on the stolen car and deposited it right away. Two-thirds of that will go back to the car dealership because we used that portion as an advance down payment. The other third was originally going to pay off the remainder of the Corolla I've been driving, but Charlie's dad suggested we use it to pay down on his horrible, horrible Citibank bill. Those people are truly evil.
Anyway, we had a bit of a kerfuffle surrounding some utility bills and what didn't get paid and why. We had to shell out some cash to get an outrageous gas bill paid up, and now some other things are due. Kate hasn't been able to pay any utilities on time since we moved in to this place, so Charlie has been responsible for the bulk of it while she reimbursed him every couple of weeks with what she could afford. Because of that he got behind and, as a result, I thought I was going to witness a catfight about it.
He got really angry with her for saying “Let's not worry about how this happened, let's just worry about fixing it.”
Immediately before that, I'd said “Well, why wasn't the second-to-last bill paid?”
Then Kate responded, to which Charlie said, “Let's not repeat the mistakes of the past, shall we?” After which he got up and stormed out of the room.
At first I thought he was angry with me for what I'd said so I went in to talk to him, then he told me that he and Kate had spoken about bills several months ago, soon after we'd moved in to this new place. He had told her that he could only keep up with them for so long because our cushion was supposed to be used to cover our end of things after I started school.
So now I'm not sure if they're getting along or not, or if that exchange created a rift, or even if she's aware of what he was angry about.

So that was why we had to use part of our original Corolla pay-off insurance money to cover even more bills. But we did buy a few things we didn't particularly need over the weekend. We got a relatively inexpensive Sony subwoofer to go with our stereo because the speakers sound like crap without one. I bought the first season of “Home Movies” on DVD at Target, and Charlie got a new green Playstation controller to replace the one Trinity tried to eat.
All-in-all, it was kind of a general waste of money, but it was fun to pretend for one day that we had cash to blow. We even looked at new beds and dining room tables as if we had the extra money to buy them.

I am supposed to be responding to student emails during my office hours right now, but no one has contacted me with questions yet today. I think I'm also supposed to complete the computer exercises they have online and turn in a detailed statement about it one of the professors before tomorrow. Yipes! I've already done one, but it was a week late. It was just a little bit more than I was prepared to do when I took on this position.
I'm trying to figure out if we'll be able to go anywhere over my spring break or not. Tickets are going up in price every day and, as we all know, I'm absolutely incapacitated with my flying phobia. Anyone know where I can get some serious drugs to knock me out? I imagine Charlie pushing me through the airport in a wheelchair with an IV of really good stuff. That way I'll never have to be conscious. Too bad a flight to Seattle has at least one layover. Sigh.

moving

I swear to god, no matter where it is, if I haven't been there before – well, you can probably talk me into moving there.
When people talk about places they're interested in, it piques my interest. The weirder the place sounds, the more interested I am. For example, Scott & Jay have been expressing an interest in Minneapolis lately. (I'm all about the links tonight – if you read my entry earlier today and came back, you'll notice I added two new targets.) But it's not just that they were talking about it. Cavan, the newest addition to our dysfunctional little family, grew up there and speaks fondly of it. Then Scott told me that every one they know who has moved there loves it, especially younger people.
Don't get me wrong, it's not even in the Top 5 of cities I'm currently considering (right now there's really only three), but it still makes me perk up. “What's this? A place I haven't considered? I must know everything about it! Every little last detail, from the city public transportation system, to the gay and lesbian areas, to the funky parts of town.”

I honestly don't know what my problem is. I go back and forth. Maybe it's a bisexual thing. You know, can't get off the fence. Sometimes I like Indiana, sometimes I don't. Strike that. Sometimes I like Indianapolis. The only other place in Indiana I would even consider moving to would be Bloomington and that town's so small anyway it would get boring after a while. There's only so many one-way streets and crafts fairs a girl can handle.

The Big Three
3. San Diego: Warm, sunny, 75 degrees year-round. La Jolla may be pricey, but it's got one of the best schools in southern California: UCSD. They accepted me once, they have to accept me again. Charlie's all for this place because he wants to wear shorts all the time. Cons include: Thrice the cost of living; having to lose weight, grow out my hair and have it straightened and bleached, get a boob job, and a tan. Not a good idea considering my previous history with skin cancer.
2. Vancouver, BC: It's not in the United States. It's relatively secluded, as appear to be most of the few bigger cities in Canada. I'd be a citizen (eventually) of another country, and any move outside of North America would be all that much easier. For example, if I wanted to move to Amsterdam or Scotland. I would, of course, have to be single if I lived in Scotland. One hot guy with that accent and my relationship would be over. Cons include higher cost of living and cold. But it's not as rainy as our number one pick . . .
1. Seattle: Artsy, phartsy, and everything in between. All the coffee you can drink without ever having to step foot inside a Starbucks again. Exotic food and restaurants, with crappy enough weather that I wouldn't be forced to go outside every moment of the day if I didn't want to. Mild temperatures (to me, anyway). Cons include, of course, dreary weather, slightly higher cost of living, poor job market. But who cares? I'd be in school anyway, living off financial aid and student loans. Then again, there is the secret desire to be “cool” and there'd be a lot of really groovy, cool, hip people with whom to compete . . .

37026

We got a $100 wireless router from D-Link for about thirty bucks on overstock.com. I hooked it up yesterday afternoon and into the evening. By the time Cavan got home around 8:30 I was frustrated with the entire process but had managed to get internet access on the host computer (mine). We tried to get his linked up but couldn't. His desktop recognized that there was a wireless connection and hopped on, but when he opened Internet Explorer nothing would show up. Argh!
This is what I get for grandiose ideas for which I'm not fully prepared. I know almost nothing about networks, especially setting up one of my own. But this router came with no software. The only thing they have on their website is firmware you can download and install. Except when I enter the IP address of the cable modem it won't connect so I can't get it installed. I feel technologically challenged right now.

I'm also a little frustrated because Charlie has made his intentions clear as far as playing football again this season. Their first meeting is on Sunday but I don't know when they'd begin practicing or when the first game would be. I made this big long post about it but then felt bad and left it protected so no one could read it but people on my LiveJournal list. That's just two people and one of them has posted in about a year. I just felt like I shouldn't leave my feelings about this topic out there for all the world to stumble upon and berate me for. I know it should not bother me how other people feel, but it also seemed unfair to Charlie to post the thoughts until I first spoke with him about it all.

I made no assumptions nor asked anything of him, but he eventually suggested that he'll go, see how the meeting makes him feel, see if he's still interested. Even on a terrible, unorganized team full of people he absolutely could not stand, I know he would still want to play. This year, next year, the year after that. But right now seems the worst possible time. He has so many other things going on that we barely have time to get involved in anything complicated. It's a movie here or dinner there, but that's it.
I still want to do something over my spring break as well as maybe spending a weekend in Bloomington just hanging out. But once football starts back up, anything longer than two hours together will be nearly impossible to imagine.

Then again, he hasn't told me I can't get a boyfriend to keep me occupied . . . Just kidding! Sort of . . .

Addendum

I feel like I've been played a fool. All this sweetness today was just to butter me up; to drop a bomb he's been sitting on for over two weeks. How could I be so gullible? I wanted to believe that his suggestions weren't prompted by anything but a desire to please me and remember our anniversary.

I was in the kitchen starting dinner and putting away groceries when Charlie just said, “What do you think about me playing football again next year?”
This statement alone doesn't sound ominous, I realize, but considering we spent months in counseling last year trying to work out our differences and learn to compromise, it's a big deal. One of our biggest points of contention is the amount of time he spends thinking about football: looking up scores online while we're watching a movie because he thinks this is nicer than just turning the TV on to cable from DVD; playing hours of Madden or NCAA football video games on the Playstation; watching game after game on the weekends (“but it's only a few months of the year!”); talking about it with Cavan, Andy, guys from work, on the phone with his dad, to his brothers, or emailing them about it; talking to me about the new Colts stadium or planning his life around the Superbowl . . .
I guess it's one of those things. I don't know. Everyone has something they obsess about. I worry about the dogs or my health or the bills. He concerns himself with everything related to football.

I stopped what I was doing after he posed this question because a.) I didn't want to react out of emotion and b.) this is something he had Promised never to do again when we were in counseling. Please understand that this promise was not my idea – it was his. There was no pressure on my part to get him to say this. He just said he was done, no more football, semi-pro or otherwise. This last season was all he wanted to play, because this year he'll be thirty and he's just over it. I thought he had meant it.
I tried to be a good person, I really did. I thought about making a compromise, making him promise to do something else in exchange, like move wherever I'd want to go in a year and a half, so I said “Okay, you can play all the football you want next year.”

“What do you mean 'next year'?” He asked me. It came out terse, so I was confused. I was just repeating what he'd said to me, and told him as much. His response?
“Well, you need to make a decision quick because our first meeting is this Saturday.”
Apparently, by “next year,” he meant “next season,” which also translates to “next week.”

Needless to say, this put me in an awkward position. As the very idea of football has taken over his spare time in one form or another, this version is no exception. It takes up even more time.

Honestly, what is a girl supposed to do if she still wants to be an understanding human being?
1.) I can say “Look, I know this is really important to you, and I guess it will only last from now (the end of the NFL football season) until next September (the beginning of the NFL season), so just go for it.”
2.) I cay say “Look, you promised me you were done. I realize you feel as though this is the one thing in your life that you're really good at and that is important to you, but we have a relationship. We need to have some time together or we'll drift apart. Having Saturday afternoons and Sunday evenings in the same house together isn't going to cut it. We don't see one another enough as it is.”

I know what you're thinking: “Why don't you just let him do what he wants? Why do you have to be such a bitch about it? It's clearly important to him. He's working his ass off to support you so you can go to school full time, and this how you repay him? By getting angry about something so trivial?”

But, look. I get all A's (with the exception of that horrible art history course), and I will get all A's this semester as long as I can focus exclusively on school, I'm okay financially until this semester is over, so it's not necessary for me to get another job, which leaves my evenings and weekends open for studying and spending time with him. It's not completely necessary for him to work another job, but he wants to. I haven't put up a fuss about that. But if football season starts now, there also goes any chance I had of taking a real vacation with him over Spring Break.
See, he's already made an appointment with an advisor from Ball State for their teaching program. It's like the more I talk about moving out of Indiana, the harder he tries to find a reason to stay. Are we really that different?

Playing football again would mean he'd practice twice a week from about 6pm-10pm, then he'd work out at the gym most mornings before work, then the evenings when he didn't have practice or the part time job. Saturdays would be reserved exclusively for football and . . . well, we'd always have Sundays. As long as I didn't have a lot of homework, housework, grocery shopping, or cooking to do.
I look at him sometimes and think “Do I really know you?” We're so totally different. I see things in terms of today and tomorrow. Occasionally I obsess over a new place I'd like to move, but for the most part, I try to live as if I could walk into the street and get hit by a bus. I don't want to have any regrets, but I also don't want to go skydiving or bungee-jumping. That's just not in my nature.
Charlie is the kind of person who looks at everything long term: this will be over soon, we'll get through it, things will be fine, we'll figure something out. This is his response to everything that I worry about.

Now I feel as though we've done a 180. Things were going so well and it seemed like we'd made progress; we're friends again and I felt as though we could speak to one another like adults. But the point isn't just about football – it's about sitting on things until the last minute. When he does this, it's to avoid any real conflict or dialogue. This way, he can get what he wants with only a minute amount of bitching on my part. And, no matter how many times I've tried to talk with him about this or how many hours we spent in counseling, he never seems to understand how important it is to me that he just be honest.

36527

It's been nearly impossible to update lately. LiveJournal was having problems all weekend and lost power for all their servers, then I was just too damn busy until yesterday and didn't want to sign on.
Sunday we had dinner with Scott and Jay, which was heavenly. It was farfalle (bowtie) pasta with a sauce like nothing I've ever tasted. It was rich and sweet, but made with a low-fat chicken sausage that tasted like it was really high fat. Meaning really tasty. Now Charlie wants me to get the recipe so I can make it at home. He'll probably leave me for Jay. Although I give myself a really hard time, my cooking isn't all that bad. It's just that I rarely make anything new. My specialities are chicken with peppers or Cuban chicken, Indian food (specifically, chicken tikka masala and jasmine or basmati rice with cinammon and golden raisins – yum!), pot roast, and lasagna. Oh, and sometimes manicotti but they always get broken because I cook them in advance.
My co-facilitator for the mentor/scholarship has asked if everyone can bring food to the next session. This is either going to make more work for me, or I'll be exempt because I just won't eat any of it. It's a great idea, but way too complicated for me. I'm having enough trouble juggling the seven classes I attend each week, remembering all the paperwork I have to turn in for the mentor position, and still making it back to make dinner, let out the dogs, give Trinity her eye medicine, get the mail, respond to people's questions . . . I'm normally a pretty organized person but lately I've been feeling like I'll never get ahead.
Note to self: not everyone thinks you're an impostor. I just sort of stood there today and tried to assist the other mentor, Melissa, without being obtrusive or bossy. The fact that people bothered to ask me questions, though, made me sort of heady. I'm sure this feeling will go away with time, but I think people sometimes look at me like, “What do you think you're doing?”

Charlie is so sweet. He really is trying. This came about because he asked me in an email today if I wanted him to take off our anniversary from work. He said that if I didn't (since it's a Wednesday), he could take off Monday so that we could do something the day before, then take me to class and pick me up. I would have a chauffeur [sp?] for the day, and if I wanted, he'd even deliver me lunch. Too bad I don't have enough time on Mondays to actually eat. But this is the kind of thing I've always wanted him to do – preemptive suggestions, unprompted, unsolicited ideas for things to do. I absolutely hate having to ask people for things. And the fact that this email was unwarranted, that I wasn't even thinking about our anniversary, is really sweet on his part. Awwwww.

Lee Press-On

Every Wednesday I head to campus a little later than usual since I have a one-credit course only on Mondays. Today I am sitting in an office for two hours waiting for a student who needs help with Chapter One of Psychology as a Social Science. The professor for whom I am mentoring has not added me to the class roster so I can’t edit any of the students’ information or email the ones who didn’t show up yesterday. We’re only supposed to work on stuff related to that while we’re in here, but I’m tempted to just read my religion homework so I can prepare myself for that class at one.

Kate did my nails for me last night. Rather than spend $25 having someone else rip what little bit of nail bed I have to shreds, I just did it myself and she helped me put on the tips and the acrylic. Sometimes I feel like such an oxymoron. Am I feminist if I want to have pretty nails and wear $600 heels? Whether I can afford them or not isn’t the point. I don’t know if reading Bitch magazine when it comes out every 3 months and getting angry at Cialis commericals can override the amount of “I Love the …” episodes I was on VH1.

36029

So it's almost 2am and what have I done today? Well, I bought the last two of three textbooks I need (the other one I'm buying directly off a girl on campus Monday. That will be weird. “Here's your cash, let's make the exchange.”) and I cleaned the crap out of the house.
Otherwise I've spent the past two days sitting around and feeling unnecessarily sorry for myself for being, technically, unemployed. The mentor/scholarship thing is considered a paid position, it's just in two lump sums. And while it will cover some of my bills, it won't be enough for me to enjoy life as a student and nothing else. Especially considering the fact that Charlie is working a lot more jobs than the rest of us. I know my education is important to him, but I can't really handle the idea of him being the bread winner and busting his ass so I can fart around on campus.
Of course, we all know good and well this is not what I do. My concern right now is finding something that pays well enough to be useful as far as my time goes, but also still leaves me plenty of time for studying.
Beginning Monday my days will start around 8am and I should be back home no later than 4:15 or so. All in all, I will be in a total of 6 different courses, while one of those is just my scholarship. On Tuesdays I'll lead a session with students to help them learn the material and on Thursdays I'll attend the professor's lecture with them while I am supposed to dutifully take notes. The professor who acts a liaison between us and her people has assigned us the same homework. We're responsible for getting to the highest level in the online activities then writing some sort of report on problems, what we like, what we don't like. I wish someone had told me this last semester – I would have just done it then. Ugh.

We watched most of Kill Bill Vol. 2 tonight. I'd seen the first one recently so I wanted to follow up but I really don't like the second all that much. I wanted to see B. kick Elle's butt, as well as breaking out of the coffin, but that was about it. I had my first caffeine this evening around 7pm, then had a Doubleshot soon after. Not a hot idea. Since tomorrow is supposed to be Girls' Day Out with Liz and Kate, I'd wanted to get a semi-early start. Something around 10am. Now I don't see myself even waking up by then. Yipes.

Things with the new roomie are moving smoothly. He's pretty quiet and keeps to himself, likes to play a lot of video games. He's funny, though, and smart, so that's good. Today as I was cleaning he kept asking if he could help me out. It was a bit of a shock to the system I have down for cleaning. I finally allowed him to take apart the xmas tree and put the box back in the garage, but I shooed him away after that. I'm not used to having people around when I do the Big Cleaning. This involves mopping hardwood floors with a specific mixture of biodegradeable and organic products, plus lots of sweeping, dusting, and scrubbing. I prefer to do this myself. Mostly because I'm a martyr and want everyone to know that I didn't waste my day off sitting on my tush watching Oprah.

After I cleaned, I ate some tuna and cucumbers, then watched “Down with Love,” a Ewan McGregor/Rene Zellweger movie. It as “cute.” It had a cute soundtrack, cute dialogue, cute costumes. The ending made absolutely no sense except to suddenly establish her as his equal in manipulation, I guess. But I would have liked it better if it had stuck to the typical '60s movie format. Except I wouldn't want her to be totally hosed by the guy. “Pillow Talk” kind of pissed me off in the sense that it was so ridiculous; no woman in her right mind should want to be with a guy that's that big a slut. Being Next in a tremedously long line of hoo-ha does not appeal to many women I know.

Anyway. I guess it's time to amuse myself by Googling people I haven't seen in years.

Dilemma, dilemma, dilemma

You know your life has taken a turn downhill when the most exciting thing that could happen would be to get a box in the mail.

And what’s worse than that?

Hoping that the box you will be getting will contain the garage door opener from your stolen car.

The insurance company was supposed to recover the now-found, once-stolen Sonata within 24-48 hours of our notifying them of the vehicle being found. If anything was left in the car, they’d ship it to us.
So I’m pretty excited about a possible package in the mail containing something like my old school parking pass, the twelve dollars I had in the ashtray, but most importantly, our other garage door opener.

I spent the past two days in training for my new scholarship that is also sort of a student teaching activity. Basically, they throw a bunch of us in separate rooms throughout the week with 10-25 (usually) freshman psychology students and hope we can help them work out whatever the professor has muddied. Okay, it’s not that bad – chances are it’s not the instructor’s fault.

It’s more of a tool for successful students of the course to assist the future students in doing as well as they can. Next semester it will offer course credit. The big problem is that the scholarship isn’t a whole lot of money and the courses I have to attend conflict a whole lot with my other job. Now I find myself in the same connundrum I was in before quitting Starbucks: do I take the better paying job that has a future, or do I stick with the low-paying one because it can help me in the long run but not right now?

Charlie spoke with his managers at the club to see if they would hire me to stamp, take cash at the door, check coats, etc. I guess they said they felt it would be a conflict of interest. With him being the head of security, and were he to be called to the front because of a kerfuffle, would he do The Right Thing, or would he just try to protect me? I said I can take care of myself, but they don’t really care.

So my Huge Dilemma right now is: resigning from the position I really like without feeling like a complete shithead and still managing to find something that pays well immediately following that where I can still get in enough hours to make it worth my while without flunking any of my classes because I don’t have time to study.

Was that a run-on sentence or what?

New car, old car, stolen car, impounded car, traded-in car . . .

Well, we finally did it. We finally got our car – technically – paid off, got a new one, traded in the Camry for it, and got down payment money from the insurance.
Friday, the day we drove the new one home, we had a letter from some impound wrecker place saying we have two weeks from that date to pick up the Sonata. That was as of Christmas Eve since the letter was sent to the wrong address. It's now about 4 miles from where I'm sitting right now at work on campus, and was found about 7 miles from where I live. All this time I imagined my poor car stripped for parts and sitting in Texas or Florida or something. And all this time it's been 7.4 miles from my house. Ugh. The woman at the towing place said it had a flat, but didn't say anything else about it. Are the windows broken? Is the inside all ripped up? Is it sad or lonely?
Charlie wanted to try and get down there before they close today at 5:30 but I'm not sure that would be possible. We still have to make it to the bank to cover rent and I'm out of here at 4pm but there's no way he could make it in time. Besides, the insurance company said they'll ship anything to us that was found in the vehicle.
Oh. My poor, poor car. All battered and bruised and treated like crap by some punk kids. I wish I could get my hands on them. Then again, if wishes were horses . . . I don't know what that means. I'm scare of horses anyway.
The funniest part about it, besides getting the letter the day we drove home the new vehicle, is that our payment is about $70 less per month on the new one than on the Sonata. It gets the same gas mileage and had better emissions. But I feel like such a soccer mom. This is why Charlie gets to drive it most of the time. I told him we could do two out of the following three things at one time, but never all three at the same time: buy a house, have a kid, drive a SUV. Besides, I think I'm over the kid thing already anyway.
Note to would-be thieves: Please don't steal this vehicle. It's all we have.
Here's a photo: