My car died last weekend. Christopher jumped it on Sunday and it started working, but it was dead again on Monday. Naturally, we had a playdate and four time-sensitive errands scheduled that day. Instead, Christopher came home over lunch to jump it again and I went to buy a new battery. The GPS brought me to the wrong garage so I had to go to an Auto Zone on the other side of town. I think I could identify four items in the entire store- tires, air fresheners, tictacs, and a pocket knife. The very nice man asked if my Rogue is an S, SL or SV. I had no answer to that question. I told him all I know is that it’s a blue Nissan and I like it. I don’t know about cars. He followed that question up with “Is it a four-cylinder?” I got the feeling he wasn’t listening when I told him I DON’T KNOW ABOUT CARS. I’m part of the reason why there’s a stereotype about women not being knowledgeable about cars!


One of our stops after getting the new battery was to drop off our Operation Christmas Child boxes. I’ve been doing them for over 12 years and now AB gets just as excited about packing them. We’ve learned how to really maximize every square inch of the box.