Random musings

I finally realized that I was never going to get exactly what I wanted in a car. I wanted 4wd, a big cargo area, seating for 5, a place to put my kayak, and decent gas mileage for under $25k. That seemed relatively simple to me. Unfortunately, the cargo areas on a lot of the crossovers are just too small for my needs. I found a few I liked--the Honda CR-V and the Subaru Forrester were near the top of my list. I hated the Rav-4 and the Highlander, incidentally. I really would've bought the CR-V in a heartbeat, actually. But Terrific T. hated it, plus I hated the dealers. He said it was too effeminate and he didn't want to even be seen in it as a passenger, which I found hilarious. I was on the fence about a Subaru. . .they seem so low to the ground to me. Had the Subaru salesman worked harder for me, I might have been persuaded, but he didn't even call me back with the incentives he had told me were coming out (although, he did manage to tell me before I left that they are selling out of the new Forresters as soon as they hit the lot, which is perhaps why he didn't care about talking to me). So, it was ultimately a Nissan that won out, again. The salesman was terrific about following up with us, and went out of his way to get us what we needed while we were at the showroom (take the car out for an extended drive; no, I don't need to come; here's a cup of coffee for you; I'll get you any color you want; we'll work on the options for you). It's a boring choice, for sure, since I just had a Nissan. But, they dropped the price by an obscene amount--such an obscene amount, in fact, that I figured out that it actually made up for the money I'd save over two years driving one of the other cars that I was looking at which had better gas mileage. They got me almost all of the options I wanted (it's model year-end, so I didn't quite get everything). I never thought I'd get them to go that low on the price, but they did, and that's what I decided to base my decision on, ultimately. They were offering no deals on Hondas or Subarus, unless I got an Outback, which I didn't want. So, it all worked out. I guess. I still think I'm kind of pathetic for getting the same car I just had.

I'm completely ambivalent about TTC this month. The Big Project is sucking up all the oxygen from my life, and I'm just not sure I can handle being pregnant right now (and part of me just thinks it's crazy that I even think I might get pregnant this month--why would I be so optimistic, after the experiences of the last dozen months?). On the other hand, I don't really want to wait three months until it's over, because that puts me three more months down the road, and I have another birthday coming on Monday, putting me very squarely into the AMA category. I guess we'll see what the month brings. If I O at anything resembling a reasonable date, I'm going to have to go for it. I just don't know how many decent cycles I have left in me, and I'm definitely heading in the wrong direction in that regard. I don't want to look back and say "I should've gone for it, and I missed my opportunity." I don't think I could live with the idea that I put my job first, and completely missed my opportunity to have kids because of it. Still, I have a ton of public stuff to do over the next few months, and I'm paranoid I'll get morning sickness and throw up in front of a crowd. That would be awkward.

I have been thinking a lot again about whether this is even the right decision. I can equally see myself with kids and without. I think I'm looking at the decision through the specter of the Big Project, though--it's certainly easier to undertake something like this when all I have to remember to do is feed myself and pick up my dry cleaning. I know once I come out the other side, I will be in a totally different place on this. Still, it scares me to think I am second-guessing myself on such a monumental decision. But knowing myself, I will probably always do this. I've never made a decision where I haven't said "what if." I am inherely analytical about everything. Everything has a cost-benefit analysis, and the costs and benefits of everything are a moving target in my psychotic little head.

Speaking of weighing things, I'm still really low on the literal scales. The stress of working on the Big Project is making it hard for me to put any weight on. I'm trying to eat good breakfasts and dinners. Lunch is kind of a whirlwind, and I mostly eat portable snacks, and that's really the only option, with everything going on. I might have to add some sort of shake to my daily repertoire. If anyone has any good, tasty, healthy ideas, I'd love them.

My garden is completely overgrown. It's rained here for weeks on end, and the weeds have won. I can't even find the pepper plants. I know where I left them, but they have been overtaken by strange green weeds three times their size. Why do weeds grow faster than beneficials?

Terrific T. and I went to breakfast at our favorite joint this morning. It's the kind of place where there's always a line for the dozen tables, free coffee while you wait on the sidewalk, a sign on the wall explicitly prohibiting cell phones, and lively tatted-up waitstaff. The bright red walls sport revolving and often excellent art exhibits, the food is good, and we go most weekends. It draws a 30-something, kidless crowd, probably due to the fact almost all of the tables in its tiny dining room seat only two. This morning, two society mavens made quite the show of pulling their canary yellow sportscar into a parking spot directly in front. For some reason, the driver felt it necessary to rev the engine and pull the car back and forth in the generously-spaced parking spot at least a half dozen times. When they stepped out of the car, I noted that both women were well over 60, both dressed to the nines in clothes that would have been perfectly at home on women 30 years younger. The driver of the car, perfectly coiffed in a well-blown bob at 8am on a Sunday morning, sported painted on designer jeans, waaaay too much silicon in her very enhanced lips, a face lift (or three) that stretched her features well beyond the normal proportions, and black eyeliner that would've made Joan Jett proud. Oh, and she came complete with some sort of white teacup-sized rat dog that she proudly told the waiter weighed "only three pounds." Living, breathing caricatures of the rich and vapid.