Ah, the dreaded minivan. The auto industry's equivalent to sweatpants. Roomy, comfy, non-threatening and generally unflattering to the owner. My parenting mantra was "I will never own a minivan"...and then suddenly I found myself preggers with baby #3 and had to face facts- the only vehicle on the road able to accommodate three car seats was the very beast I had mentally battled for so long. Ugh. This was not going to be good for my image, I worried. The mere thought of owning a van was tantamount to pulling up next to a studly guy at the lights and seeing that he drives a red Mazda Miata- strangely repulsive. somebody shoot me... But what choice did I have? So I went van shopping. Entering the dealership, my stomach turned as I shuffled into the purveyors of these "sweatpants on wheels". Did I mention that I do not even own sweatpants? This was all so tremendously unsavory to me on a core level. But those who owned vans swore by them. So it was eit
Well...I try- try to get everything just perfectly so. From family to home, garden, cooking and beyond. Only problem is, well...nothing ever quite turns out the way I had hoped. I live by "almost": It almost fits, is almost edible, almost painted properly, almost deloused, almost safe... Will I ever get it right? Who knows. But along the way, it'll be anything but boring!