Further evidence that she's on the mend came when she went with me to get my car serviced: she was her usual inquisitive, outgoing self. She even seemed to be angling for a job as she went behind the service counter at one point (OJT?) and was handing out sales brochures for cars to other customers at another! Not sure where she learned to be so charming and outgoing, but I was so happy to see her playful and smiling instead of crabby.
The only fly in my ointment was that she seems to have a taste for the... um... finer things in life. The service desk was right adjacent to the Jaguar showroom (no, I do NOT drive a Jag!), and she was fascinated by the cars. Oh, well, I just need to look on the bright side: I can get her the F-type convertible she likes, and it will just about be paid off by the time she's ready to learn to drive!
|A future Danica Patrick?|
|"Ah! A car that's ALMOST as cool as I am."|
(I don't know what it was about this display: she kept standing against it. A broad hint to me?)
|"Pay no attention to that nasty ol' sticker price. You WANT to buy it for me, don't you? Seriously: how can you resist me?"|
Upon reflection, it's perhaps no surprise that she's fascinated with cars (she even led me around the lot) as her foster father was a cabbie: as you might say, she was weaned on the sweet smell of burnt gasoline and hot asphalt; the melodious sound of car horns was her lullabye; her cradle was a car seat, rocked by running over potholes.
Just... can't she pick something a LITTLE less expensive???