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More likely, I will owe Bianca's first semester college tuition. Sure, I could be like my parents (and their parents before them) and say "sink or swim, kid!" with a parting gift of a set of chipped dishes. But if I'm willing to forgo socks without holes to keep her in organics now, I may as well face the fact I'll be selling my kidneys to keep her in school then. I'd like to keep my kidneys. When I was four months pregnant with our little wonder, I went car shopping. I demanded the biggest, safest, mommest car I could get my hands on. It's worth mentioning (and admitting) I required a little pizazz. After all, I used to wear $10 shoes and slept on a mattress on the floor. I waitressed my way through college and drove an 18-year-old Dodge through the Taco Bell drive-through and there were occasions I did not have the 69 cents, plus tax, for dinner. I'll be damned if I was going to keep it a secret that I was fancy now. Thank you, Facebook. I decided on the Mercedes-Benz R350 and named it Scott. Good ole Scott had sticker price of $61,485. I leased it on "employee special" and have blinged inappropriately around my green, progressive neighborhood ever since. Scott was egged on his first Halloween and once had a potted plant chucked at him in the street. He is not popular. And he doesn't even fit in the garage. In an effort to make a more peaceful life, I will start over this fall. Smaller automobile. More savings. Better future. And I will no longer be the jerk driving a ridiculous car. (Sorry, Scott.) Hopefully driving a less ostentatious car will put me out of danger of flying potted plants and have the added benefit of enabling me to pay that '26 tuition bill. Or take Bianca on a safari to celebrate her scholarship.
