Six and a half hours a day in a classroom (technically it’s eight, but this is taking into account breaks, lunch, and general administrative duties) is not conducive to reliable, daily posts in a blog, so for that I apologize.

I’m quite enjoying the insurance course, actually. The material’s pretty interesting. There are over thirty of us, ranging in age from 23 (yeah, so far as I can tell, some other guy with one of those cow ring things in his nose and I are the young’uns of the group) to probably sixty something, from all over the world (I’ve counted a Russian, a Frenchman, and a German so far). Many of the guys are ex-military, some serving as far back as ‘Nam (my smoking buddy) to Iraq (a seven-foot-tall behemoth). Anyway. Diverse group. The teacher, Mr. W, is a riot and very good at what he does, which makes sense because he was in the insurance business for over thirty years before taking over this class in the mid-’90s.

It’s wonderful to get out at four, before rush hour clogs the roads and causes it to take an hour to go two miles near my house, and I figured this would give me ample opportunity to head on down to Cartaret to - finally! - see my car and grab any personal effects that are left, of which I’ve been told there are quite a few. But no. The place shuts at four-thirty, and it’s at least four exits down the Turnpike, so there is no way I’d ever make it. I’ll have to wait until this class ends next week, I guess.

I finally got my estimate, though! USAA is going to give me $3299, over seven hundred dollars more than I read in an online version of the Blue Book. Wicked. I don’t know when I’ll manage to go out looking for a new car, but it should be soon. I can’t hold Meg’s car hostage forever.

Speaking of Meg, we drove down to Virginia late Friday night for the weekend. Her family reunion, dad’s side, was to be held on Sunday in Maryland, so I figured this was a good excuse for me to pop round and visit my aunt and uncle while they’re in town (she lives in California and has an open-ended ticket, so she could realistically be around forever, but he lives in Vietnam and is heading off in about two weeks, and understandably I don’t get to see him very often). I also had the opportunity to chat with my mom about my future - yes, again - and it went really well. She’s being extremely supportive and enthusiastic.

I figured, per tradition, we’d meet up with Erica at TGI Friday’s on Saturday night for a beer and a chat. The conversations leading up to the actual event left much to be desired, as Meg and I got into a bit of a fight. Basically, she was upset with me because I was planning to have a beer at Friday’s and then head home; yes, in my car. Personally, I think they set the drinking and driving limit as they do so as to allow someone the freedom of having a quiet drink with a friend, and therefore have little problem with it, but Meg is very passionate about such a thing. Anyway, Erica offered to drive, bless her, so I got my beer and everyone was happy.

And then we went out to DC to see Dom. I don’t really understand how that happened, but we got to Corey’s apartment in Foggy Bottom at about one in the morning and hung out for awhile, drinking extraordinarily sweet concoctions brewed by a very inebriated Dom and listening to an eclectic mix of dance, rap, and showtunes.

The next day it took us quite a while to get down to Meg’s family reunion (extenuating circumstances included a 3-year-old, a mom playing hostess, a reckless driving ticket involving a state trooper who obviously hasn’t been laid in a few years, and a fat redneck woman - not the cool “I keep my Christmas lights on the front porch all year long” kind - who decided that her week’s amusement was to keep us from passing her on Route 5), but ultimately I decided that her family is lovely, though I’m still extremely sore from playing baseball and soccer with her 3.2 million first, second, and third cousins, most of whom were approximately 3 foot 9 inches tall and far superior to me in athleticism.

This heat is destroying me. One and a half weeks until London, baby! I’m just going to forget the fact that I have two tests next week. Mmmmm … gone. Excellent.

PS, I’m very happy that Italy won the World Cup (woot!), but I wouldn’t have been too upset had France been the victor. But Zidane - really? A red card in your last game ever? Clever publicity stunt. No one was expecting that.