We got a new car about a month ago. She's dreamy. We named her after my late grandmother, Eleanor Agnes, who drove until the fierce age of 91 years young. We were blessed to be able to purchase our new whip, and I'm particularly, profoundly celebratory over being a 30 year-old woman who owns and drives a vehicle. I know, for example, that women in Saudi Arabia are prohibited from driving. I'm suspecting, therefore, that if one went to an Acura dealership (how she would get there, I'll leave you to speculate), she would likely not be granted a payment plan for the TSX Sport Wagon. Driving really is a privilege, and it's one that I enjoy, and even though I try not to enjoy it so much (at the great expense of the ozone and traffic on I-93S and my wallet), I especially enjoy the view this new ride provides in its rearview mirror :)

Said goodbye to my hairdresser and my PCP this week. There weren't any greeting cards saying, "Thanks for ten years of putting up with my paralytic agony over lady land exams." Nor were there cards for "Thanks for keeping me mullet-free since '04." But hopefully they got the sentiment.

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