Lessons in Deprivation

My mom's comment on my last post reminded me about my"deprived" childhood:)  After finishing high school, I was off to the big city of Provo to attend BYU.  I was so excited!  I had always wanted to go to BYU and I was excited to be leaving the small town where I grew up.  I loved it there, but I was ready for a change.  

My parents both went to BYU.  They both had fond memories of the university.  I even lived in the exact same dorm building as my mom.  I am sure they thought my experience would be like theirs.  In trying to mimmick their experience they thought I did not need a car.  Now this is probably true.  You do not need a car.  Everything you need, you can find by foot or a bus.  However, I had a car in high school.  That same car was going to sit at my house.  No one needed it.  It just sat there.  It seemed so silly to me to have my car sitting there, when I could have been using it in Provo.  I really wanted my car.  And I wanted my car for good reason.  I wanted to go to Food 4 Less where groceries were half as much as the on campus store.  And I wanted to be able to come home once in awhile.  Just so you know, my car was really nothing to get excited about.  It was an old Dodge Colt.  And it was also a stick shift.  And it also broke down less than a year later.  

A few months later when the family was up for a football game, they brought my car.  I was so excited!  And I also couldn't believe they hadn't done it sooner.    I am still not sure if this lesson in deprivation really taught me anything.  But at least my parents were trying.  

And now for some updates-Ethan was climbing up on the fence and "found" his bike.  He was very excited.  He proudly moved his bike to the middle of the backyard and it has been there ever since.  At least he was excited.  I went back to weight watchers and I had gained .4 lbs.  I was down 9.2 lbs, but not any more.  I need some motivation for this week.  My husband was out of town all last week and I am so glad that he is home!  Alfredo came and worked on the garage door last week.  When he stopped by, I couldn't remember his name.  He is the nicest guy and I knew it was an Italian, food related name.  As he was leaving, I called him Linguini.  I am such an idiot.  But I gave myself a really good laugh!  And I said it as he was driving away in the car, I really hope he didn't hear me.