Last weekend, before Paul left on his road trip, we spent the weekend together having grand adventures. And it was a weekend of pure awesome.

( weekend of pure awesome, commence! )

It was a lovely day, all in all, and an amazing weekend. Here's my favorite shot:

Sarah and I had plans today to go to Monterey, but they were thwarted by us realizing that it was much further away than we had previously thought. So we pulled out a map and put our finger on Half Moon Bay.

We burned a mix CD appropriate for the theme of the trip (Your Ex-Lover is Dead featuring prominently in the lineup... I mean, with lyrics "There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave / You were what I wanted / I gave what I gave / I'm not sorry I met you / I'm not sorry it's over / I'm not sorry there's nothing to save," how could we go wrong?) and took off. We crawled over the winding San Mateo Bridge and then up into the mountains, coming down into a valley where people were selling flowers and fruit and metal dinosaurs the size of a house. The air was fragrant and we bought strawberries and drove all the way to the shore.

It was divine. We sat on blankets and took off our shoes and smelled the water and ate rice cakes and apples and watched the windsurfers and talked and I took pictures and every few minutes one of us would say "We're at the beach. In November."

As the day progressed, the fog that was so far out over the ocean came closer and closer. By the time the sun had vanished, the fog was creeping up onto the shore. It was eerie and lovely.

Pictures, most of them below the cut. Enjoy. :)







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We stumbled back to the car, covered in sand and freezing, but incredibly content. On the way back up the mountain, we realized that we could see the sun setting over the fog.



At home, Oliver greeted us happily. We made a delicious dinner and watched Ever After.

Tomorrow, I have to take Sarah to the airport at 4:45 am. I also have a Perspective MFA Graduate Event at Mills College. Ahhh, I can't believe that I'm actually applying to grad schools. It's so surreal.

BEATRICE HAS CALIFORNIA LICENSE PLATES. I AM SO SO SO OFFICIAL CALIFORNIA-Y OFFICIAL IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY.

WOO-HOO!

A few days ago, I got a phone call from Matt, a friend of mine back in DC.

"So, I have something to tell you."

"...er, what?"

"I'm standing in the middle of the AU parking lot, in front of this SUV."

"... okay."

"It's green. Texas plates."

I had a flashback.

"The SUV that was carrying the carload of sorostitutes who made the illegal left turn and plowed into my car while you and Amanda were driving with me last fall that took months and month to get fixed and reimbursed because they claimed that they weren't doing anything illegal and refused to file a claim with their company?"

"Yup."

"You sure it's the same one?"

"Let's put it this way - I can see where they hit you, still. And it's the same plates and bumper sticker and everything."

"Ohmygod."

"And what's even better is that I can see at least five more accidents' worth of dings and dents and scrapes on this vehicle."

"... you realize this makes my week, right?"

I could hear his grin, even over the phone. "I figured it would."

We chatted for a bit about California, but then I had to go to work.

But yeah. Just wanted to share. In a way, I feel that poor Beatrice has been vindicated.



In other fun news, on Friday night, I was working and Eva's roommate Mica and her girlfriend Gladie were hanging out in the apartment.

We were in the middle of Eva's shower when the lights flickered, dipped, and then completely went out.

The bathroom was pitch black. I made sure Eva was secure and then went out to the living room.

The power went back on, but only slightly (something that I now understand to be called a "brown out"). The television in the living room was blue with lines of light shooting across the screen.

"Guys?"

Mica and Gladie appeared, Mica using her cell phone as a flashlight. I went and got the flashlight from my backpack (I have a little flat one that I carry about with me). I went back into Eva's room to finish the shower.

Mica stuck her head in the door. "Uh, guys? There's some kind of alarm going off downstairs. Do you think it's a fire alarm? Should we evacuate?"

Adrenaline flooded my system as I listened for the alarm. If the elevator was down, that means that we'd have to walk down five flights, and I'd had to either put Eva in a manual chair, or carry her down the stairs.

I ran into the bathroom and got her dried off and in her pajamas. Mica came back in.

"I don't think it's a fire alarm, I think it's just from the generator kicking back on," she said.

We plunged back into darkness.

"Uh..."

Mica and Gladie lit candles. Eva snuggled into bed, we set up a table and chairs in a half moon around her, and by candlelight, I read from Different Loving, which is a book on S&M that I'm currently reading.

"Today's reading selection is from... Different Loving," I intoned, to a fit of laughter. We read about infantilism (adult babies) and spanking and even had a small discussion. The candlelight flickered and we speculated about the blackout and told jokes and when Casey called me, they made faces and made me laugh.

As my shift came to a close, Kat and Tali, the two other roommates, arrived from their vacation to Jamaica. We all hung out and laughed and reminisced, since it's been weeks since I've seen them and I miss them and despite the fact that I've only been working for Eva for two months, it's been seven hours a day, five days a week, and I feel like I've known Eva and her roommates for ages.

It was fun.

All right, time to get my day started.

It was a fantastic weekend. Casey came over Friday night, and Saturday was spent adventuring in Urban Ore (and picking up a pasta pot and a lid for my frying pan for, like, $4) and checking out San Pablo Avenue, including Good Vibrations and this really neat store that had used pianos for $99.

We went to Berkley and had dinner, and then drove back up to the North Bay. Have I mentioned that the North Bay is incredibly beautiful? Casey took me to the Marin Headlands at midnight and we walked on the beach and it was lovely and adorable and and we saw the Milky Way.

Sunday, I met up with rebellibrarian and her husband bigmeaniejerk (who, incidentally, recently lent me practically half of the graphic novels on my list) for dinner. We were going to go to their favorite Cambodian restaurant in Oakland, but it was closed, so we drove to Almeda and had delicious seafood in a restaurant on the Marina. There were peanut shells on the floor.

On the way home from the restaurant, we drove past a yard sale that was about ready to close up. Sitting on the sidewalk was a lovely black couch.

We stopped and I got out and looked at it. It was $30. $30! ZOMG! The problem is that their car was far too small for it. We decided to go and get Beatrice, and hopefully the couch would fit inside and we could tie the trunk down with twine and whatnot.

So we left bigmeaniejerk sitting on the couch with a pretty throw that they threw in for free and a book that he just bought.



And went and got Beatrice. And twine. And pantyhose.

When we came back, we discovered that the couch was too wide for Beatrice. Uh oh. But I was absolutely, positively convinced that we could make it work. "I'm the daughter of an engineer!" I announced, to no one in particular. "I will get this couch home."

We ended up using the twine and pantyhose, as well as rope and wire, to tie the couch to Beatrice's roof. I had to crawl in the driver's seat through the window, and drive with my hazards on at 15 MPH, but we got back and got the couch in the apartment with relatively little difficulty.

It's perfect. And amazingly comfortable.



Did I mention how much I love California, and how lucky I am to know such fantastic people here?

*edit* Here's the living room as it looks now:

1. I am, at this very moment, writing a cover letter for a job that I would really, really love to have. *crosses fingers*

2. I don't think I'm going to do Albany. It's too expensive. I think I'm going to go skydiving for my birthday instead.

3. I got so lost today. I tried to go about five miles - from Oakland to Emeryville - to pick Rebekah up, and I ended up ALMOST DRIVING OVER THE BAY BRIDGE. As it was, I broke about fifteen laws to get off Route 80 before I ended up in the city, drove aimlessly through downtown Oakland as I attempted to figure out where I was, ended up near Lake Merritt, had to stop at a bank to ask for directions, and, an hour after she called me, I finally picked her up. In an effort to keep calm during this little adventure, I kept shoving gum into my mouth from that little car gum container (you know, the kind that sits in your cup holder) that I bought last week. I ended up polishing off something like eight or nine of those delicious bubblegum/mint concoctions. Somehow, I think that is not the point of having that container, so that you can consume pieces of gum at an alarming rate.

My jaw hurts.

Before I go into the awesomeness of the day, I would like to share with you a picture that pretty much sums up how I feel about life right now.



I woke up early this morning and hopped online. With the spotty motel wireless, it took a bit of wrangling to get that last entry up, but I did it! For all of you! Well, and for me. But also for all of you!

*loves all of you*

Anyway, by the time we got all showered and wolfed down complimentary bagels and coffee, it was around nine. We hopped into Beatrice and made our way out onto the open Wyoming road.

The landscape was, by and large, the same landscape we saw yesterday. Gorgeous, huge skies, wide, open spaces. I, however, was not distracted by this natural beauty. My eyes? Were fixed on the horizon.

"I see the mountains! I see the mountains!" I shrieked, bouncing in my seat. Beatrice swerved slightly.

"I think that might be a hill," Errol said.

It did, indeed, prove to be a hill. A short time later:

"There they are! I can see the snow!"

"I think those are clouds."

They were. So we drove along, Joni Mitchell crooning at me as I frantically searched for the Rockies.

Around Cheyenne, not too far from the Colorado border, we drifted over the swell of a hill and... there they were. Snow capped and majestic and blue with distance.

"Oh. My god." I felt that pressure behind my nose like when I'm about to cry, and I had to take a deep breath to keep from doing so. "My god."

We went through Cheyenne and over the Colorado border.

"TOWANDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

We stopped for gas; I made my voice post, we checked the oil (good until Las Vegas, I'd say), and we got back on the road, silent, doing nothing but stare at the mountains.

We turned off the main road and headed toward Estes Park. We went through a town called Loveland where there was a lovely lake (looking at a map, I think it was Boyd Lake, but I'm not sure) with a little park and a great view of the mountains. We stopped to stretch our legs and absorb the majesty for a bit.







As we got ready to get back into Beatrice and continue on our way, Errol pointed out some statues to me. Read the last bit carefully.







It says: Invictus. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul. William Ernest Henley

Errol smiled at me. "It seems appropriate," he said.

Hands shaking slightly, I got back into the car and we kept driving... into the mountains.



We drove slowly, soaking in the sights as we climbed higher and higher into the mountains, passing through small towns with cabins for tourists. After a while, we arrived in Estes Park.

It was gorgeous. The town was clean and bright and you could see the snow capped mountain peaks in the distance. We had a delicious and surprisingly inexpensive lunch at a pizza restaurant and then made our way to Rocky Mountain National Park.

Sadly, we're here about a month out of season, so certain passes were closed (I am, however, absolutely positively determined to come back here during the season at some point). We did, however, get some amazing pictures. It was breathtakingly lovely.





















Also, while I was hanging out taking photos on this rocky outcropping, I made friends with a very personable furry woodland creature who got very, very close before scampering away.



After we were all Rocky Mountain-ed out, we headed toward the hostel. By accident (though I'd been wanting to see it, we hadn't planned on it) we stopped at the Stanley Hotel, which probably has all kinds of rich historical things attached to it, but which I love because it's where Stephen King was inspired to write The Shining.



After we left the Stanley, we found the hostel. The manager and her son were busy setting up mattresses and things. The son, Joel, was a shy sixteen year old who helped me out getting internet up. Then he, Errol, and I helped drag some boxsprings and mattresses onto bedframes.

Later, Errol and I took a walk around Estes Park. I bought a big ol' cowboy hat at a leather shop. The owner nodded his head approvingly when I tried it on. I looked in the mirror. It looked pretty darn cool.

"Now, here's the question," he said. "Are you the type of lady who pushes her hat up off her face, or the kind who pulls it down low?"

I tugged the hat down low on my face.

"This way," I explained. "I can see them, but they can't see me."

We walked around. I bought a "Rocky Mountain National Park" bumper sticker for Beatrice, and a little Buddha for my dashboard in a Nepalese shop (interesting fact: there are something like 4,000 people from Nepal living in Estes Park during the normal season. Apparently it's a huge destination for the Nepalese). The girls at the shop told us that we'd apparently missed snow in Estes Park - get this - by a day. Whew. We're just going to have to be careful tomorrow - don't want to get trapped in any freak blizzards.

Anway, the hostel is lovely and nice, and I really want to come back here some time in the summer. They have a map on the wall of where people are from, and I stuck a pin in PA and DC.

So, in conclusion: Rocky Mountains = *indistinct gaping noises combined with a waving of hands*

Love you all! Tomorrow we travel to Durango.

We left Murdo a little after eight central time and headed west on 90. Twenty minutes outside of town, the time zone changed to mountain. We zipped along 90 with Ani DiFranco singing. The sky behind us was clear, and the sky in front of us was heavy with a thick layer of clouds. We watched the clouds apprehensively, but in another twenty minutes they dissipated, and the sky was a perfect, flawless shade of blue.

We passed by the first bison I have ever seen in my entire life outside of a zoo. Live bison, just chilling with other bison. It was freaking sweet.

We drove for about an hour; the signs for Wall Drug and The Badlands increased with alarming frequency, and by the time we saw the first evidence of The Badlands - the landscape breaking up into these small white hills - I was practically bouncing out of my seat.



We stopped at a gas station just outside of the entrance to the park to fill up. I got out to go to the bathroom, and this shaggy dog came running up to me. He butted his head against my hand and sat down on top of my feet, looking up at me with this huge doggy smile and two colored eyes. I pet him. Errol came over. "Does he have any tags?" he asked.

I checked. He had a worn leather collar, but nothing else.

"No," I said. My imagination went a little haywire. I imagined adopting this dog and taking him on the road with us! I could name him Dakota!

I went into the bathroom of the gas station. The dog followed me to the door, then stopped as I went inside. When I came back out, he was sitting at the far pump. I whistled lightly and he came bounding over. I pet him again.

"Don't you have a home?" I asked as his pink tongue lolled contentedly out of his mouth. I realized - practically - that there was no way I could take this dog with us. I pulled out my camera to take a picture.

A heavyset, grizzled man came walking out of the gas station and saw us.

"You want a picture? Here." He whistled and patted a large crate in the back of his pickup truck. The dog jumped up and leaped into the bed of the truck, jumping up on the crate and curling up like it was his bed.

"There ya go," the man said, and disappeared into the store. I took a picture.

"Thanks," I said, giving him one more pat before getting into the car. I never did find out his name.



We drove on to the Badlands. As we got closer to the park, we could see the... well, whatever they were. Mounds, hills, mountains - the steep white walls and organic, wind-and-water shaped formations - they were lovely.

(Note: I'm not posting every single Badland picture here. For more than what's here, check out The Next Great Adventure album.)



















As we drove, two prairie dogs skittered across the road. I braked very, very hard, and when I got out, I realized that on either side of this particular stretch of pavement there were hundreds of prairie dog holes. They noticed my presence and began to chitter loudly. I took a few pictures and got back inside.



We also saw a snake!



The Badlands were just... incredible. Every time we turned a corner, Errol and I would just say "Oh... my god. Oh... my... god." As I stood on the overlooks, staring out over the hundreds of miles of inhospitable land, I tried to imagine not being just a tourist, looking at it from a paved road, but someone trying to cross this land for the first time. It was a terrifying thought.

We finished up the Badlands Loop. The exit took us to Wall, SD, home of the infamous Wall Drug. It was around lunchtime, so we figured "Why not?"

Wall Drug is an interesting experience. According to the historical information that I picked up, a man purchased the drug store in the 30s. When they didn't get any business (I know what you're thinking: a drug store in the middle of nowhere in South Dakota in the 30s wasn't getting any business?!), the wife of the proprietor had an idea - offer free ice water to motorists.

The result is a place that resembles a South Dakota style South of the Border experience. The billboards start from hundreds of miles away, the amount of stuff that they sell is staggering, and the cheesy, camp of it all is not to be missed. We had a fun time at Wall Drug.

(Also, if any of you understand the book reference that I am acting out by kissing the bison, you win a million points.)











After we left Wall Drug (with the complimentary "Have you dug Wall Drug?" bumper sticker on Beatrice's rear), we continued to drive on 90. As we got closer to Mount Rushmore, we could see the Black Hills looming in the distance. (We also kept passing patches of not-quite melted snow, which was bizarre, considering it was 70-something degrees outside.)

We started the crawl into the Black Hills. Beatrice was a trooper - only once did I feel her straining slightly with the climb. We went up higher and higher into the Black Hills, and they were lovely.



The billboards for all of these random attractions kept increasing as well (including one "mystery attraction," which we didn't stop at, despite the fact that I was incredibly tempted). We skipped over the Borglum museum (I can only take so much historical information in one day) and drove straight up to Mount Rushmore. But not before passing this sign:



Mount Rushmore was cool. It was, however, somewhat smaller than I'd imagined. I guess I'd always imagined that the heads would be HUGE, and they didn't seem that big. Still, it was neat. And very... American.

(Also, I think we can agree that Gutzon Borglum is the most unfortunate name ever, yes?)













We left Mount Rushmore and began the climb back down from the Black Hills. We passed through a town called Hot Springs that reminded me of Jim Thorpe, PA.



We also saw a whole herd of bison on the side of the road.





After an hour, we caught our first glimpse of Wyoming.



The cheesy billboards behind us, everything sort of opened up, and we were on a long, flat road going into a wide open space. We passed the Welcome to Wyoming sign, which was small and unobtrusive and hardly noticeable. It was, after all, dwarfed by the sky.

There was no cell phone reception for hundreds of miles. I felt cut off, but it wasn't bad or scary, just strange.

The open space of Wyoming is dizzying. It's just a huge sky and a road, and you occasionally pass hills or trees and fences but it's always just... open space.











We drove and drove. I nodded off to sleep for a bit. We pulled into Torrington around five-thirty, checked into our hotel, and then went out for dinner.

And now! I need to take a shower and go have breakfast and get ready to get on the road again. Today we're seeing Rocky Mountain National Park, which is going to be SO AWESOME. I'm really excited.

Love you all!

I didn't cry.

It was raining, and I was sleepy, and I kissed my grandparents goodbye and got into Beatrice. I pulled my traveling hat snugly around my ears and stared at the rain through the windshield. The inside car was quiet, and all I could hear was the muffled sound of the rain. I curled my hands around the steering wheel.

In the house, my grandfather had made me waffles and coffee. As I hugged him goodbye, he smiled brightly. "It's going to be okay, Carmen. I promise."

I believe him. I really do.

I rolled down the driveway and into the street. I waved goodbye to my grandfather as I drove past the house.

In Silver Spring, I hugged a sleepy KC in the doorway of her apartment. I then went and picked up Errol. I hugged Amanda goodbye. I told her that I loved her. We got Errol's backpack into Beatrice and the trunk closed. Success.

We got on the road.

We took off across Maryland, starting from her wide eastern side and moving to her narrow western handle. I thought that I'd never been this way before, but I have; I recognized the road, the small, lush mountains. This was the way that we used when we used to go to West Virginia. We passed through the place where the West Virginia bound group would stop for lunch - a section where the highway passed through the mountain. The mountain had been blasted away and the layers of rock were visible where the earth had pushed up and folded upon itself; split open, it was raw and beautiful.

Errol and I talked. We told stories about friends and lovers and family, and commented on the beauty of the places we were passing. We decided on a road trip battle cry - "Towanda!"

It rained and rained. Mist clung to the mottled green mountains. The windshield wipers pulsed. Other drivers sped past us.

We passed through Frostburg, where my father went to college.

"TOWANDA!" we screamed, pumping our fists in the air as West Virginia welcomed us.

Errol murmured a prayer in Arabic. "What was that?" I asked.

"Traveling dua," he said, and then translated it for me.

We stopped at a gas station high in the mountains. We filled up, shivering in the drizzly morning air. I went inside and went to the bathroom, making a note (by which I mean "taking pictures") of the shelves of kitschy statues and clocks and trinkets. I bought a soda. At the counter, a woman with frizzy blond hair said "It's miserable out there."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's been raining all morning."

"You been driving for a bit?"

"Since six this morning, yeah."

"Where you going?"

I felt a tiny glow inside as I said "California."

"Ooh! Visiting?"

"Moving."

She tilted her head to look past me and saw Beatrice filled to the brim with boxes.

"Wow." She handed me her change. "Good luck with that. I hope the weather improves."

"Thanks."

"Travel safely."

"Thank you."

Somewhere high in the mountains of West Virginia, it began to snow. Not much, or heavily, but fat, white flakes swirled down with the rain. Our ears popped. We talked about religion.

We passed into Pennsylvania. "TOWANDA!"

We passed animals. Dead animals. Roadkill, sprawled out along the side of the road. I counted eight dead deer with their backs broken and bodies folded; rabbits and groundhogs blasted apart by the force of semi tires.

Errol took a nap, and I listed to my road trip mix. We stopped for gas again and switched places. He drove and I made sandwiches in the front seat. The car was warm. I got a phone call from Rebekah.

"I'm standing by the Pacific Ocean! And I thought of you!"

I'm coming, I promised her.

We passed into West Virginia again briefly ("TOWANDA!") before moving into Ohio.

My mom called to ask how the trip was going. "Did anyone lose their pool privileges yet?" she joked, referring to the Wisconsin road trips we went on as a family when I was a child and how my frustrated father would start stripping privileges left and right as we poked each other, screamed, fought, and threw tantrums. Despite the threats, however, when we landed at the hotel on the first night, we always went into the pool anyway. "We had to get you tired for the next day, so you'd sleep in the car," Mom later explained.

"No one's lost their pool privileges," I said, smiling.

Errol drove and I took pictures*. I watched the drivers in the cars that we passed. People argued and talked and sucked away on their Big Gulps.

Indiana.

"TOWANDA!"

Around 5:30, having been on the road for approximately 11 hours, we made our way to Natalie and Michael's house in Bloomington. We had to wait for Natalie to get home, so we chatted with Michael and played with Charlie Rose the dog. After she got home, we went out for beer and burgers and a tour of the Indiana University campus (which is GORGEOUS! And also is where Kinsey did all his research!).

Back at the house, we met up with Sarah Brown! Who is lovely and awesome! We hung out and chatted and I gave her huge hugs to give back to the people in DC.

This post seems a little loopy, but that's cause I'm so darn tired. This was the longest day of the trip, and we passed through five states, and I need to get to bed.

I love you all. Good night, good night.


*pictures forthcoming, just not tonight

I'm putting together a community for The Next Great Adventure, and I want a referential post about Beatrice! So here I am posting two pictures of Beatrice, looking all lovely in the mottled sunlight. I also want to say that her voice sounds like Poe, she's the most sturdy, awesome car ever, and also, baby got back. As you can see from the pictures.

( pictures! )

Do you ever imagine your car has a voice?

I do.

That's because I'm crazy. Or, as Amanda would politely put it, "a little eccentric." But I do have strong relationships with certain inanimate objects (my car "Beatrice," my computer "Penelope," and certain other Battery Operated Objects That May or May Not Vibrate), and Beatrice and I have an special, close bond.

So, the voice.

I left work around 12:15 AM, freaking exhausted and ready to go home and crash. I walked the half mile to where Beatrice was parked next to an embassy. And I tried to unlock her using my little battery operated unlocking thingy.*

Beatrice flashed dimly, let out a feeble yelp, and then went dark.

Alarmed, I manually unlocked the door, got inside, and tried to start her up.

One more sad, faded cry, and then nothing. I turned the key. Nothing.

"Beatrice?!" I shook the steering wheel. It was sort of the vehicular equivalent of someone down on their knees, clutching the body of their friend who has fainted dead away, crying out their name. "Beatrice? BEATRICE?"

Silence.

I got out and walked to the end of the bridge, where there was a gas station. It was closed, and locked. And why not? It was TWELVE THIRTY IN THE MOTHER-LOVIN' MORNING.

Speaking of mother, I actually called mine. I woke her up.

"Your... car... wha?"

"Won't start. Won't start. Beatrice WON'T START."

"You have... AAA. Call them."

AAA! I do have AAA! I dug in my wallet and found my AAA card.

Which is how I found myself sitting in my very dead (no, no, fainted, FAINTED) car, in a cul de sac outside of some random embassy, waiting for someone to come wave smelling salts under Beatrice's proverbial nose. I called Rebekah because I love her, and also because she's on the West Coast and it wasn't a ridiculous, ridiculous hour there. We chatted about my hopefully soon move to San Francisco (*squeal*).

A man finally came. His name was Michael. He was my hero, and I told him as much, over and over. I popped the hood of my car and he brought this cute little jump start kit with cables over. He places the clamps on the battery. A finger of electricity snapped between them.

Beatrice sprang to life. Her alarm started going off. I turned it off, got in, and started her.

She rumbled cheerfully. I tested the little battery thingy. She chirruped happily. Success!

I hugged Michael. He looked startled. I imagine he doesn't get hugged by customers very often.

And now I am home. Home home home.

Bed bed bed.




* what the hell is the actual name for this device? And while we're at it, you know those little greenish hot peppers that you get in Papa John's pizza and at Italian restaurants and stuff? What are they called? I thought they were jalepenos, but they're not. There's another name for them. Where can I buy them in large, ridiculous quantities? I'm so addicted. I had, like, eight of them at dinner.

I need to take Beatrice to get fixed, but I can't not have a car for three days with all of the things that I have to do. So today I called my insurance company to see about getting a rental car.

My plan doesn't cover rental cars. But, the woman on the phone said, if the accident isn't my fault and the other company assumes liability, they can pay for a rental car.

Did they assume liability? I asked her.

She said she'll call them and she'll call me right back.

Twenty minutes later, I get a phone call back from my company.

Apparently, the girl who hit me NEVER FILED A CLAIM WITH HER INSURANCE COMPANY. Why, I suppose, is anyone's guess. Didn't want her premiums to go up? Gets into a lot of accidents? Didn't want to tell her parents? It isn't as though her car isn't damaged - the whole side was dented in from where her behemoth Tahoe ran into my poor Beatrice. But regardless of her reason why, she never did. Now, my company has to get into contact with the family directly and then go through the insurance company. So if she didn't want her parents to know before... well, I guess they'll know now.

I am SO ANNOYED by all of this. I just want my baby to get fixed and not have to pay through the ass for someone else's stupidity.

So, remember when I said that my parents were acting funny and I thought that they had something up their sleeves?

( Well, apparently, they have really big sleeves )