"Do you think I could get those spinny rims for the Pacifica, too?"-my mother

This past week I've felt a lot like an Expressionist artist. Stressed, dealing with illness, and er, living with the gruesome images of war frozen in my memory...

Alright, so I'm not feeling that much like an expressionist paper. And yes, for those that are wondering, my AP Euro paper is about post-WWI German art.

This weekend, whilst my mother and Kylie were in Michigan, our 1993 Dodge Minivan broke down. So, naturally, they drove a 2006 Lincoln Navigator home. For those not familiar with that way my family works, I will explain. This week, my grandfather tired of his Lincoln Aviator and pickup truck. He decided to replace them with a Navigator and a Cadillac Escalade Pickup. These are both comepletely ridiculous vehicles for my grandparents, as there are only two of them and they use their vehicles for hauling construction supplies and landscaping materials between their various properties. Now, my grandmother's Cadillac car doesn't fit in their garage, so they've decided to keep it at their lake house (less that five miles from their house) rather than get rid of it. So basically, they bought a bunch of frivolous and inefficient vehicles that they don't really need and don;t suit their purposes very well. But I digress. My mother and Kylie arrived in Michigan, after which our ancient van promptly broke down. This caused our family, who actually has a need for three cars, to run into problems, the most pressing being the means of return to Illinois. Since we would need a new car anyway, and my grandparents didn't really need the Cadillac, my mother suggested we buy it off of them. This greatly upset my grandmother, who couldn't possibly part with her car that she replaces with a newer one every two years anyway. After much consideration, my grandfather decided to have us take the Navigator, because he "needed" his Escalade pickup this week. So now, sitting in our driveway, is a massive, shining, fancy-pants, thing. The worst part of all, though, is that my mother loves it. Ugh. If she buys one to replace the van, I am so running away from home. Like, totally.

So that's my story for today. It's of frivolity and suburbia at its best, is it not?