rising gas, tumbling kids

Bloody Hell. It now costs me a hundred dollars to fill my gas tank. Granted, I drive an SUV (although a small one) when I probably should have bought a Civic. But I hate Civics, and anyway, I buy a lot of plants and crap that takes up space. But this is reedickuloous! I have had thoughts of riding my bike to run my errands. Thing is, where would I put the groceries? In one of those cute little baskets made to fit a chihuahua? That's a no go. And what about the boy? Am I to purchase a kid carrier and chauffeur him around like he's some sort of prince in a rickshaw? At least we wouldn't fight over his window being down. I simply can't take the thumping noise of an open back seat window.

So for now, I guess I'll just cue up my errands and take the gouge at the pump. Drat!

Thom is participating in a tumbling camp this week. I signed him up hoping that he would be returned to me in a near comatose fatigued condition but when I went to pick him up, he bounced up to me with the most absurd grin on his face and announced that he wanted to go to the pool. Drat!