I guess him getting his grandma's old Ford Escort isn't looking as exciting anymore.

So we have a conundrum you see. Hubby would kill to have some sort of super-duper, sporty, fire engine red "man" car for himself...and pass down his own car (which is quite lovely and completely unembarrassing) to our son. "I" would like a Jeep Wrangler...a sporty, lifted, cool, "get out of my way I'm on a mission to shop" car. My son, well...he would like anything with a loud engine that costs over $20,000 it seems.

But I think I win.

Because if Momma isn't happy...ain't no one happy.

Hubby is being a dear, but I see the longing in him as he passes the convertibles, a glint in his eye as he hears the roar of a Viper, sense a spike in testosterone as his hand lingers on the hood of a Porsche. My son, well...he has decided that he would rather drive Dad's car then be caught dead in his Nanie's senior-mobile.

But now...the used car lots...eh. The car salesmen look desperate. They practically trip over themselves to get to you before you can get out of your own car. They loom, circle, poised with shiny keys, waving you over to their "best deal" while grinning almost manically, smelling of too much aftershave, hair balm, and Armor All. I've had enough before I've walked 3 paces.

So..you go the personal sales route. But who knows what you end up with...or worse, where you have to find it. I do not want to travel 30 miles to Bubba Bill's Farm and walk across a field of petrified dog poo, only to be taken back to some old green shed with an unhinged door to find his "pride and glory" is a souped up school bus. I'm not buying it.

The entire process is a migraine in the making. However, I do have another promising vehicle on the horizon. And I do know that it passes the test...how? Because my son just offered to give up the next 3 Christmases and 5 birthdays if I'd consider buying it for him instead. Not only that, but my husband clasped his hands together in glee, grinning like a fool after he drove it.

Now...if I could just get it for $1.49.

My husband loves sushi. I hate it.

It's that simple. Oh, it's pretty enough...lil rings of colorful neatly arranged pinwheels...sometimes with flower-like splatters of orange sauce, yellow fireworks, or creamy squiggles. Occasionally, there might be a long snake-like roll of little shrimp wrapped in seaweed or caked with snowy rice.

Although the presentation is quite appealing I still cannot bear the idea of raw fish. A few nights ago (while being held captive at the neighborhood sushi bar)..my hubby pointed out to me that some of it is in fact cooked (I brightened a bit) He said, "It tastes like chicken." (I like me some chicken) He says, "It's eel." (I turn green)

I didn't understand Dragon Rolls, Monkey Rolls, Volcanoes...I mean..WHAT is in this stuff? Upon further menu inspection I wasn't impressed. Hubby says, "Try this little cucumber wrap." Sure it looks innocent enough, but for all I knew that crunchy cucumber was disguising deep fried whale turds. So no thank you.

I ate some sort of hibachi steak and rice...I was still hungry when we left. While hubby was patting his belly, mine was growling. While he was ready to head home, I was ready to head to Food Lion for frozen pizza.

When I got home I heard the rants and raves of a host of my friends trying to convert me to the ways of sushi heaven. I'm still not buying it. Even the salads frightened me. (The ginger dressing was a surprisingly odd taste) (The spicy mayo made my left eye twitch)

Maybe I just didnt know what to order, was rushed (I did have to pee), was confused by steaming plates of greenery flying past my head (I have no idea what THAT stuff was)..so I decided to Google sushi. Thus I found "The Glossary of Sushi" The web page was ridiculous (as in SO much info) It was quite colorful though...and the pictures lured me to read on...but I tell you, words like ama-ebi, aoyagi, and beni shoga had me downright confused. At least a name with something like "California rolls" or "Philadelphia rolls" in it, I can relate to. (Well, until I find out it involves crab sticks and seaweed along with raw salmon and cream cheese)

I'm just not hip, not cool, not sophisticated enough I suppose.

Just take me out for some KFC

At least I understand the menu.

I am convinced that my oldest daughter has a second stomach. (quite possibly a third) Now this dear child can eat like a horse, an elephant, and even more astonishing...she can eat more than her older brother. You probably think that her figure resembles that of the award winning great pumpkin at the county fair or that she quite possibly has the belly of a champion sumo wrestler, but you would be incorrect.

This girl has the looks and figure of a model. She is the type of girl that belongs on the cover of Teen magazine, the type that can wear a sack and make everyone want one, the type that makes everyone look twice........at what's on her plate.

For a child that refused to eat anything but small strands of spaghetti for 3 years, you would never know it now. Forget the old standby McDonalds Kids Meal, she is on to Big Macs (Plural). Pizza Hut's Personal Pan Pizza? Nope. I may as well order enough for 2...with breadsticks and dessert. Heaven forbid that anyone mentions Greek Food. Her eyes light up like it's Christmas as she knocks everyone over on her way out the door to the car. And just try and whisper the word..buffet. It can send her into a giggling frenzy of delight.

She must have mondo metabolism...like I once had. My parents used to call me "the stick." On my work breaks at age 17 I could devour an entire foot long lemon danish in 10 minutes flat. I could eat Snickers bars every night, stuff myself silly with cheeses, ice cream, and fancy breads. And now? I'm just jealous. I can't even look at a Snickers bar without popping a button. So while I'm sipping Diet Coke and nibbling a head of lettuce like a rabbit...my sweet daughter is licking her plate (much better than our dog does) after her second or third helping of fettucini, applesauce, and sour cream and onion doused cucumbers. While I'm clearing the table...she is adding a plate of cheesecake. When I'm daring to have an after dinner coffee...she's luring her brother out for ice cream.

One day I tell you...she will lose her secret stomach...or it will suddenly swing forward like a hidden innertube. But for today..well, shes having a sleepover...(Imagine TWO really hungry, giggly girls).. and this means an emergency trip to Food Lion. I wonder if I should just go to Costco and buy in bulk?

Well, I'm off to have lunch first...water and a Mentos...sigh