Happy Columbus Day!

Happy Columbus Day from the beautiful city of Columbus, Ohio.

We're back in Columbus after a lovely weekend visiting my family in northwest Ohio, mostly to celebrate the finale of my dad's 40+ years at the same place of work. Now that his last day on the job was earlier this month, I hope he and my mom will spend more time in Columbus, too.

Congrats, Dad!

My Very Own Car

I've always gotten the hand-me-down car. I'm not complaining. I never wanted to spend the time researching new or used cars, and I didn't really care what I drove anyway. Four wheels and an air conditioner? Thank you, I'll be on my way.

So the three times we've purchased new-to-us used vehicles, Paul's done the legwork. It became my primary set of wheels only with the arrival of the next car.

That balance was thrown out of whack in New York. We replaced our old Saturn with a much newer Jetta only last year. But once we moved back to Ohio, we needed a second car. This time, it was up to me.

I wasn't excited about the research, but I knew what I wanted: a Prius. I was reminded by friends and family that this was not necessarily a great choice for a young family. I listened, but I also investigated. A Prius is no minivan, but it can fit three car seats in the back. Which is hopefully more than we'll ever need.

Assured that our family will fit, I was free to daydream about the gas mileage: 51/48. Then I did the real research, about the different models, features and generations.

Finally last Saturday, almost exactly six years after we sold off our second vehicle, we became a two-car family again. Never has a car felt more like mine than this blue 2011 Prius.

The car seat is already installed and fits better there than in the Jetta. And I have yet to buy a tank of gas.

A Fire Station Tour!

When I was a kid, the worst week of the entire school year was fire prevention week. Each year, after all of the stop, drop and roll talk, I was absolutely convinced that my house was going to go up in flames. I was terrified. I remember being amazed when my mom told me that no house she had ever lived in had caught fire.

Hopefully Edith won't inherit my fear. We took the first step earlier this week by attending a tour of the local fire station organized by the moms' group I recently joined.

Monday morning a couple of dozen moms and their children (from about 3 weeks old to 3 or 4 years old) met at the station for a private "tour." Really, we were all in the garage while one firefighter put on all of the gear while another did the talking. But I think the kids were just interested in the truck and spraying the water.

The tour got cut short when the firefighters had to respond to an actual call. We were all shooed out of the garage and watched as the truck, lights flashing, pulled onto the street. Talk about going out with a bang.