David recently observed that while the average Australian walks 900 miles a year, and drinks 22 gallons of beer a year, that must mean the average Australian gets about 41 miles per gallon.
Now, I don't know 'bout you all, but my rig doesn't get anywhere near that kind of mileage. Not even close. And since there seems to be no end to the raping and pillaging oil companies are willing to do for obscene profits, (are you impressed with my calm neutrality on this subject?) I'm game for something different.
I could drive a Toyota Prius. With "comfortable" seating for five, DH and I fit (sort of) in front, and the three girls could mash together in the back. But where does that leave S1 and S2? DH says my idea for lawn chairs (with seat belts, of course) strapped to the roof top would be too dangerous. I know the boys would be game, and I think DH is overreacting. But, I'm guessing the roof top seating would disturb the car's aerodynamics and depreciate my gas mileage.
So Plan B is to drive an Australian. It is winter Down Under right now, so it might be pretty easy to coerce one of them into coming to Utah. And there must be at least one Aussie that would prefer a sledding party Christmas to a beach party Christmas.
Okay, that may be going too far. But who says I couldn't give the Australian the Christmas week off to visit Queensland, or wherever they may call home? I mean the "holiday" week off. Or is it Hanukkah? Kwanzaa? Boxing Day? Whatever.
While being without my Australian for the winter break might be a downer (ha! get it - Down Under - downer), there is an upside to driving one. Mainly, all the beer I'd be storing in the garage. They run on that, remember?
I'm not a beer drinker, but I figure cases and six packs of the lager sitting around, will really give my neighbors something to talk about.
And the possibilities don't end there. If I run out of Bath and Body Works Nutrient Rich Foaming Bath in Lavender, I could grab a bottle of Tooheys from the garage, dump it in my tub, and voila! Pure bath time bliss. Speaking from experience, if you have never bathed with beer, your skin is the one that is suffering.
Ya know, I may be trading in the old berry-stained-carpet Yukon after all.
Now, I don't know 'bout you all, but my rig doesn't get anywhere near that kind of mileage. Not even close. And since there seems to be no end to the raping and pillaging oil companies are willing to do for obscene profits, (are you impressed with my calm neutrality on this subject?) I'm game for something different.
I could drive a Toyota Prius. With "comfortable" seating for five, DH and I fit (sort of) in front, and the three girls could mash together in the back. But where does that leave S1 and S2? DH says my idea for lawn chairs (with seat belts, of course) strapped to the roof top would be too dangerous. I know the boys would be game, and I think DH is overreacting. But, I'm guessing the roof top seating would disturb the car's aerodynamics and depreciate my gas mileage.
So Plan B is to drive an Australian. It is winter Down Under right now, so it might be pretty easy to coerce one of them into coming to Utah. And there must be at least one Aussie that would prefer a sledding party Christmas to a beach party Christmas.
Okay, that may be going too far. But who says I couldn't give the Australian the Christmas week off to visit Queensland, or wherever they may call home? I mean the "holiday" week off. Or is it Hanukkah? Kwanzaa? Boxing Day? Whatever.
While being without my Australian for the winter break might be a downer (ha! get it - Down Under - downer), there is an upside to driving one. Mainly, all the beer I'd be storing in the garage. They run on that, remember?
I'm not a beer drinker, but I figure cases and six packs of the lager sitting around, will really give my neighbors something to talk about.
And the possibilities don't end there. If I run out of Bath and Body Works Nutrient Rich Foaming Bath in Lavender, I could grab a bottle of Tooheys from the garage, dump it in my tub, and voila! Pure bath time bliss. Speaking from experience, if you have never bathed with beer, your skin is the one that is suffering.
Ya know, I may be trading in the old berry-stained-carpet Yukon after all.
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