I went to lunch with a friend yesterday and she asked the dreaded question: “Can you drive?’ I don’t mind driving, but it’s just that the interior of my car is on the way to Funkytown. Luckily I had anticipated that I might need to actually transport another adult in my Pathfinder and I had put all the junk–the garbage bag of stuff destined for Goodwill, the tennis shoes and socks for those days I want to walk at lunch (whenever we have decent weather around here…Tennessee is still considered the South, right?), Caitlin’s artwork from school, some magazines and coupons from my mom, a lone baby sock, empty “fruit” snacks packages (are those things really “fruit”…probably not)–in the back. That’s the car version of my home organization trick of shoving everything in a closet. I used to be all about the wheels back in the day. The interior of my car shone with Armor All, the floorboards were clutterfree, the windows were smudgeless and sparkling and not dotted with handprints from the kids and noseprints from the dogs. Now that I’m the kid and dog chaffeur, the car is just not on the level of coolness that it once was, although I have to admit I have no desire to drive a minivan (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Now I don’t have one of those Baby On Board signs or a “My Kid is an Honor Student at Blah Blah Blah” bumper stickers but I’ve got the double carseat action and the rockin’ kiddie music CD collection. One of my personal resolutions this year, though, is to keep my wheels in better shape so at the very least my friends won’t be embarassed to be seen in my car.