Oh. My. Word.

Ok. Here we go. I am about to tell you about the biggest purchase of my young life. (Excepting, of course, the thirty thousand dollar's worth of education I have. Sigh.)

BUT FIRST.

I must mention my dear and wonderful JOOMY'S biggest purchase, which is considerably larger than mine. Joomy has a home! Where we can meet, and blog, and bemoan our single status while sipping daintily on Strawberry Zinfandel! I can't wait to see it!

My big purchase has nothing to do with where I am about to live, but rather what I am about to drive.

A 2002 Jeep TJ has been procurred.

It is beautiful. Burgundy on tan, interior to die for. Five speed manual transmission, four wheel drive, tires as big as I am, three rooftops, and a sound system that would make James Hetfield weep.

When my horse is no longer rideable, I can just drive my trusty Jeep around the ring instead. It is much funner to spin up mud with wheels than with hooves, anyways.

The range of emotions I've experienced this week are amazing. I drove home tonight thinking that it was the second last drive I would ever make home from work in the Little Chevy. And I love that car. It has never done me wrong, never failed me, never refused to take me from point A to point B. I would recommend that everyone on Earth get one for their first car.

I have high hopes for the Jeep. I'm interested to see how my first winter in a rear wheel drive goes, and thrilled to think of spinning up mud at my neighbor's house this weekend. I don't think my guitar will fit in the back seat, nor will more than two passengers. And my passengers can never be old, dainty, fearful, or unbendy, because let me tell you that getting in and out of the back seat of that thing is very, very sucky.

CowTown, prepare to see black marks all over your fine streets; around the same time you hear the blare of Hank Williams, Merle Haggard, or Willie Nelson; or perhaps see a crazed young woman running through the gears of the prettiest little Jeep TJ to ever roam the Earth.

She's all mine!! AAAAUUUUGGGHHHH!

Let The Changes Go On...

My vehicular situation continues to weigh on my mind. I have gone and looked at a vehicle that I love and adore, that I long to own. I have a desperate need to mark the streets of CowTown with black marks after every corner as I race through the gears and pop the clutch when my heart desires.

I have been driving altogether too fast with the music much too loud these days. I think it's because I'm in such a happy, happy mood. I've revived my collection of old school honky tonk music, much to the chagrin of the passengers in my car. I, personally, think that I sing quite a lovely rendition of "The Happiest Girl in the Whole USA", but some may think otherwise.

I really, really want to own this 02 Jeep TJ I have found. I haven't yet gone for a test drive or to make an offer on this lovely, obnoxious yellow vehicle, but I have spoken with the man who currently owns her and I have to say that I want it. I want it so badly that when I turn a corner on the gravel roads of CowTown, my left foot inadvertently tries to depress the clutch. In the automatic Little Chevy this often turns into braking at the same time as applying the gas, which is a terrible situation to be in, let me tell you.

The financial aspects of buying such a vehicle terrify me: the insurance will be more, the gas will be more, the cost of the vehicle itself will be more. Does my desire to drive a hip and cool Jeep outweigh all of this? I guess I won't know until my offer has been accepted or declined.

School has been going well thus far. When I first started my undergrad, I just wanted to get through it. Now that I am working towards an Honour's degree, I know that I need to make straight A's because the ultimate goal is a Master's program. So far I've been having fun putting pressure on myself to fully understand the readings and to make the most of my study time. I really wonder how long this enthusiasm will last.

Perhaps the most exciting aspect of all of this educational business is actually the fact that we here at The Ranch in CowTown will soon be acquiring high speed internet.

Oh, yes, that's right. HIGH SPEED, baby. (Please trust me when I say that once I have high speed, a potentially interesting blog full of pictures and wonder will arise from this site. My dial up internet has impeded my blogging life like nothing else, and this is soon to change!)

The me of when I started these educational aspirations and the me of now are quite fascincating people to compare. Before I was all like, HEY! There's BEER over there! And now I'm all like, Sheesh, I need to study and get eight hours of sleep each day. I was reading through some old journals today. I had one for planning my day (I had to laugh when I read 9:30: wake up. 10:30: actually wake up) and another for planning my life. I also kept another up of what was actually going on in my life, a random assortment of trials and tribulations I faced each day. (Howling cats and brown water, anyone?)

I've asked my mother for my 25th birthday present as of today. I'd like my first university diploma framed and hung on the wall above my newly acquired workstation. When I graduated university two years ago, I was so angry at the institution, my life, and what I had planned on getting out of my education versus what I actually got. I had wanted so badly to get this education, and once I had it, I was furious at myself for devoting so much time and money to something that I didn't understand the value of. Back then, I didn't think that my money and effort had been worth it. And honestly? I really think I was justified at the time.

But now two years have passed. I'm working in my field doing a job that I (mostly) love and my initial diploma is actually a worthwhile stepping stone to what I really want to accomplish.

So hang it up. Let the world see that I worked towards something, and then I got it. And let the world see that I will continue to work towards things because despite what this world has to throw in my way? At the very least I can continue on in a forward motion. If I've learned nothing else from horses, I have to say that going forward does wonders for the soul.

Just Call Me Madame Positivity...

1) I'm meeting up with an old friend this Thursday, a friend who has access to HIGH SPEED INTERNET, and as a result I've been promised lots and lots of very fast, very happening music downloads.

2) I brought Zydo in from the cold the other night, and he cuddled up to me and licked my hand and nuzzled into my chest the way he always does. Because of my work schedule, I've been neglecting him something wicked, and it was just too thrilling that he still seems to remember who I am. Either that, or he liked the fact that my barn coat smells like Reed Canary grass, which happens to be his favorite. Regardless, I got cuddled by my horse, and I'm happy with that alone.

3) The Little Chevy died on me the other day, ceased living right in front of the shop I was driving her to. I didn't really understand what was going on when the battery light came on, the radio became wavery, and the windshield wipers were groaning with the effort of standing up and sitting down every time I asked them to. I mean, I groan and whine every time I have to get up off my big fat butt, so why wouldn't they? It turns out my alternator died, but before it died COMPLETELY, it made it to the mechanic's place. As per usual, the mechanic I deal with seemed perplexed that I was a woman allowed out of her house without her veil, but fortunately, my father met me there with my mom's car. So I only had to talk to him for a moment before I dove into the safety of the Vue and spun the tires on my way out. Because this is TOTALLY 2008, and I can TOTALLY handle a stick shift like its my job.

4) Dixie and I have a newfound love for one another, and I'm not entirely sure why, but every time I return to the house she howls and jumps on me, whining in such a beagle-y fashion that it makes my heart melt. Perhaps she realizes that last fall, I threw the tantrum to end all tantrums and demanded that THIRTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS be spent to save her life. Tonight I came home from work and she jumped and squealed and licked my face with such vigor that for just a moment, I thought perhaps the layer of skin that has all the acne on it would simply melt away. No such luck, but regardless, I have to say that the six hundred dollars I paid toward her surgery are the best dollars I've spent in my life.

5) I've managed to make it to month eight in my field of work, when some people I know thought I wouldn't last two weeks. And really, its not like I'm COUNTING the months, but having made it that far past the two week mark makes me feel very happy indeed. I haven't lost my mind because of the work I do, I haven't fled a shift in tears (at least until the shift was over), I haven't called in sick when I really just wanted to sit at home and drink beer, AND I've been congratulated on the way I can write up reports. That's right. I CAN WRITE UP REPORTS, DAMMIT. If I never have another positive quality about me than that, I can die a happy woman, because I am ever so happy to be congratulated on my grammar. My dress? I could care less about. My grammar, however, is what makes me feel like a person worthy of drawing breath form the air, and when I get congratulated on that?

I TOTALLY FEEL LIKE LIVING.

Let's Go... Time's A-Wastin'...

Oh, June Carter Cash, how I love thee.

This week is another hellacious one that involves three days of double shifts and two days of school. Of course, I can't really count that one day because I skipped it like the slacker that I am. There's just something about getting into my car and spending fifteen dollars in gas with five in parking that makes my mind scream SLEEP MORE, DAMMIT.

My financial situation of late has been atrocious, such that I've stooped to the level of so many twenty-something university graduates living with their parents, and I asked my mother for money to fill up my car the other day. And then, miracle of miracles, I ACTUALLY used that money to FILL UP MY CAR.

What happened to the good ol' days, when I could fake some need or another in order to run out and pick up a 2-4?

Of course, those were also the days when I made no effort to control my drinking; when there was no pretense that I should be a human being capable of living in a sober state for longer than twenty four hours. Now that I'm pretending to be a grownup with a car and a job and such, there isn't nearly as much time for beer drinking and revelry.

MY GOD, how I miss beer drinking and revelry.

Believe it or not, I kind of miss university. Lord knows how I passed any classes... Especially that last semester, living in filth, surrounded by cats in Mal's appartment.

Of course, I don't miss tripping over the homeless folks in my foyer, or that creepy building superintendent who tried to see me naked. I also don't miss the Depths of Hell, where the walls were so thin you could hear your neighbors sneeze and the water so rusty it turned your hair orange.

Oh, wait. That was MY HAIR THAT TURNED ORANGE. No one else's hair turned orange from pursuing higher education.

Bastards.

At any rate, I'm so poor right now that the Little Chevy may just die of thirst in the parking lot and there is nothing that I can do. I'm sure that my bank account balance is going to drop to below zero at any moment, and that the next time someone asks if I want to go for coffee, I'll burst into tears because I've already ravaged my coffee savings. And that bowl of change in the kitchen.

And the console of my mother's car.

It is a sad, sad life that I live indeed. I haven't been making frivolous purchases or going to clubs and needing new attire or anything like that, either. I've just been trying to pay some damn bills here and there, and apparently, in the real world, PAYING THE BILLS CRAMPS YOUR STYLE.

Consider whatever style I ever had to be officially cramped.

A Busy, Busy Girl....

I've been loaded down with school and work lately, trying to delicately balance the two in my life so that I don't end up throwing myself off a bridge any time soon. Not that I want to throw myself off a bridge; on the contrary, things are going quite well. Its just that often, after coming home from a long day of working with teenagers, I need to sit on the couch and stare at mindless television for about seven or eight hours until the terror leaves my brain.

I jest.

My work isn't THAT bad. I quite enjoy it on most days. But, it is a challenge and I do find myself busy, or overloaded mentally so that I do need to take some extra time for myself now and then.

I'm still in College, although I question my desire to continue attending daily. This semester we are taking a children's literature course, a course on professionalism, a course on current adolescent issues, and another on youth and the law. Through everything I've done for my degree, though, those courses were all covered in one way or another, and the redundancy makes me want to stab myself in the eye with my pen in the middle of class.

I haven't ridden Zydo since the week of Christmas, and now he is acting mostly as a pet. He is too cute, the way the hair on his nose gets covered in frost, and he comes to the gate and puts his frozen nose in my hand and I melt the frost off and he licks my palm like a little puppy, only he happens to weigh fifteen hundred pounds. And the no riding has affected him that way, has caused a large lump of flab to appear on his rump and his blanket to be ill fitting.

The Little Chevy has been running like a top, not needing a single dollar's worth of work since the snow tires and the gas tank. I love my little car, and I feel bad for it, as it treats me so well; the other day, SuperNan was filling up my windshield washer fluid, and she noticed a large chunk of the Little Chevy hanging off the hood. And she ripped it off, tore away this piece of falling of paint, and the horror that stood in my heart during that moment will forever haunt my soul. Because it caused me to realize that even if the Little Chevy seems invincible, she is not. And now I have about ten hours worth of body work to do on her because I noticed that the hood is starting to rust. And OH, how I don't have what it takes to be seen driving around in a rust bucket. Sigh.

So Freaking Cheap I Might Just Cry...

My insurance agent sent me a package in the mail today. Usually when packages come in the mail for me, I cringe because I know that no good can come of them. Typically, packages are demanding money or asking me for my internal organs or even for stuff like my signature or all the fingernails on my right hand. I just can't deal with it.

When I saw that the hefty package was from my insurance company, I felt like I was being given a double-whammy. Insurance people are never people you want to hear from.

But, it was just a package going over my insurance stuff and telling me how much money they are going to take from me each month.

My insurance on the Little Chevy is going to cost NINETY-NINE dollars a month. Can you believe that? Ninety-nine dollars?

I feel like sending them a thank you note.

Poor Little Car...

I had to drive the Vue to work today because the Little Chevy is in the shop. As you know, it has been parked for nearly two years before I began driving it last month. So, I was expecting it to implode the minute I first turned the key in the ignition.

After a new battery was generously donated to my cause by a neighbor, she ran! She flew! She drove! Go, Little Chevy, Go!

The night before my first day, I decided to fill her up with gas, because she looked thirsty and I was feeling generous.

The day I got in her for my first shift, she was missing a quarter tank of gas.

Now, I'm no genius. But I somehow doubt that Coperni-Kitty decided to go for a spin in the middle of the night and pick herself up some Tim's.

I'm sure you're all aware of the environmentalist that I am, what with all the the round-upping and the beef-eating and the milk-drinking and the electircity using that goes on around here. Of course, my first concern was that FIFTEEN of my dollars have just POURED INTO THE GROUND WHERE I PARK.

And now I'm thinking, if I were to go out with a hose and somehow manage to syphon a few drops of this precious gasoline into some kind of vessel, would it be good to put back into the tank of my Little Chevy?