That Mercedes Lackey book was, as I expected, pretty vanilla with the occasional caramel swirl. Which was exactly what I wanted, of course. After fifteen years, you get to know an author.

So we’re looking at selling our SUV. Granted, it’s now worth more than we owe on it, and we talked about this last year and decided to stick with it as an investment – in another two years when it’s all paid off, we’ll have a seventeen thousand dollar asset, as well as a relatively new, solid vehicle that could see us through another decade. Recently, though, we’ve been looking at rising gas prices, and the now very bare savings accounts, and thinking that a secondhand station wagon could replace it just fine, thank you. So we’re teetering on the edge of a pretty big decision, and doing research on the going rates of a private sale versus trading in and such things. We both adore Saturns – my mother drives one – and so we’re looking in that direction.

This is unfortunate. The SUV is a happy thing. My husband loves it. It’s reliable, especially in Montreal winters (no, no, the usual Montreal winters, not the wussy thing we just came though!), on long drives (like Pennsylvania, Halifax and Toronto), it carries big stuff like piles of lumber and beds and couches. People, too. Now, I know a station wagon would carry mostly the same stuff, is perfectly capable of long-distance drives, will cost less in gas and insurance, and (big bonus here) I’ll be more comfortable driving it. It will also be easier to get future little car seats in and out of. It’s just… it sort of feels like we’re letting someone or something down. As enthusiastic as my husband is about making this wise and beneficial decision, I can’t help but wonder if he feels like he’s losing out somehow. If he’s forfeiting one of his toys, so to speak. He’s a big guy; he likes big vehicles. They fit him better. (He fits in them better too.)

This was his idea, though, and his painfully new-found desire to save as much as possible in case he’s ever out of work again appears to be off-setting any sense of loss he might be feeling. I’m very aware of the sacrifice he’s making, even if he’s not.

By the way: If you saw The Gondoliers, and you remember that pretty lead soprano and killer dancer who played Gianetta, send good thoughts in her direction – she’s performing a semi-final vocal recital at McGill. Go Christina – knock ’em dead!