For those heavy flow days in the savannah

too many maxi pads and not enough tampons

This is probably my most favorite GISHWHES arts and crafts project ever.

An elephant made out of feminine hygiene products… mostly purchased during a BOGO or a buy one, get one 50% off sale. The poor teenaged boy who had to ring me up the first time I loaded up on maxi pads… He didn’t know what to think, and I was laughing so fucking hard that I could barely breathe.

It. Was. Awesome.

It’s things like that - that push my boundaries and make me feel so crazy (but not in a bipolar way) - that really make GISHWHES a red dress moment, spread out over a week of crazy.

I’m still bummed that I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did last year, but I did have some good times during the week.

Making Jumbo was definitely this year’s highlight.



Let’s talk about stupid, nasty, grown up shit for a moment.

My little Forester, my baby, is starting to have some major issues. The check engine light has come on twice - the first time it was a “loose gas cap”. THAT was complete bullshit. The gas cap wasn’t loose. At all. Then, it came on a second time. This time, they said they had to do a ‘smoke test’.

There was some kind of leak, somewhere. I’m fuzzy on the details, but they told me that [this] happens when you top off your gas tank. I don’t top off my gas tank. I NEVER top off my gas tank, so I don’t know why there was a funky surplus of gas in the [thingymajoggybobber]. But apparently, having a funky surplus of gas in the [thingymajoggybobber] isn’t a good thing.

She recommended a $500 part, with the caveat that this might only be a band-aid. A five fucking hundred dollar fucking band-aid.

Now, the car has 110K+ miles, which is, in Subaru years, still a toddler, but it’s 110K miles. Any other car would be asking for last rites by this point.

It will be due for a new clutch sooner rather than later, according to my gut. I don’t even know what a clutch is going to cost, but the clutch in my first Subaru was almost $2K.

We’re getting to the point where any big repair is going to be a sizable portion of what I have left in payments.

I was hoping I’d have at least a year or two before I had to start thinking about replacing the Forester, but I’m starting to be afraid that it’s coming up quicker than I wanted it to.

Which leads me to a very serious dilemma.

Do I replace the Forester with another Forester or do I get the BMW that I promised myself I’d get once the Forester was done?

(I know… first world problems, spoiled little ‘rich’ girl, materialism, paying for the name/not the car, depreciation, place your anti-BMW sentiment here)

It’s not even a matter of money at this point. I was unemployed long enough to figure out how to cut the right corners and put almost $1K extra in our pockets every month, so whatever payment I’d have, I could make, comfortably. Plus, I have “extra” money since I’m getting paid more now than I was before.

For me, it comes down to $43K for a car vs. $32K for my first house.

You read that right. My very first house was $32K. That’s it. A TWO BEDROOM HOUSE. (In a shitty neighborhood in Toledo, OH, but still. A two bedroom house on .75 acres!)

My mortgage payments were less than my car payments at that time. Is that not insane?

The BMW I built tonight - with the same options I have on the Forester - came out to almost $43K.

I’ve have been laser focused on owning a BMW at some point in my life, and I’m not getting any younger. I know I’m not going to die young like my parents did (at least, I hope not), but if I’m honest, I don’t want to run out of time before I do own one. I keep thinking of my father and Kent State… of us and the lake house… of other dreams that have been pushed aside in favor of practicality.

I don’t want to be practical.

I have spent my ENTIRE life - for as long as I can remember - wanting a BMW. It started with an ad ripped out of Playboy (most likely… I didn’t grow up with those kind of boundaries. I probably saw the ad over my father’s shoulder or something. Dog knows I wasn’t really old enough to be READING Playboy, even though I could have. (I was reading at a high level even back at 5/6 years old. (Wow. That got complicated and long winded really quickly, didn’t it?))) of a 325i convertible. That ad stayed on my wall for years. It outlasted Kirk Cameron and NKOTB.

I had a longer relationship with that damn ad than I’ve had with the majority of people in my life.


I thought writing it out would hep me figure it out.

I know what I want to do. (Buy a BMW, duh.)

I know what I should do. (Buy a Subaru.)

I don’t know which decision I’m going to regret more…

Hopefully, this band-aid works and I can stop worrying about this.

Obviously, I’m not ready for a new car of ANY sort.

If I was, I wouldn’t be freaking out.


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