Yesterday we came across the name Peter Beagle, in reference to some literature anthology or other. Michael asked me, ‘What does the name Peter S. Beagle mean to you?’ Instantly I quoted, ‘“Long before ‘Frodo Lives!’…”’ and Michael chimed in, ‘“…began appearing on subway walls…”’ Peter Beagle wrote the introduction to the Ballantine edition of The Lord of the Rings, which it turns out we both have read (many times) cover to cover. ‘Amazing,’ I told Michael. ‘Who would have guessed that in addition to everything else, each of us would have found someone so absolutely compatible in every way, right down to the passion for Tolkien?’ I mean, if you start quoting an obscure line from an introduction to a specific printing of a specific book, what are the odds that someone else will recognise it to the extent of being able to finish the quote with you??
Warnings of wintry weather swirled around us as we hurried home Friday night. It was time to return the rental car, and my ‘new’ car wasn’t ready for pick-up yet, so Michael met me at the rental place and we drove home together. On the way I happened to spot a Ledo’s Pizza, as of the days of yore. Many the happy mealtime I spent at the Ledo’s in Leesburg. We pulled over and went in. It had just opened, and the food was as delicious as I remembered. What a happy blast from the past!
Ice covered the roads the next morning. All our plans for a busy Saturday were thus rendered moot, but it turned out to be a lovely weekend after all. We had a cosy time taking down Christmas decorations, cleaning the house, and baking. We did brave the roads and dash out to Target long enough to set up our baby registry. (Now that’s an adventure!) Then we curled up for a long winter afternoon. Toward evening the lights went out, and we spent three hours by the flickering glow of candlelight. I had ambitiously decided to make cinnamon rolls, and had the bread already kneaded by the time the lights went out, so I rolled out the dough and made up the rolls by candlelight. Church was canceled in the morning, so we baked the cinnamon rolls and had a leisurely morning. Ron and Catherine came over for dinner and two episodes of Bertie and Jeeves, and then we tried sight-singing some Psalms. We must try this again around a piano.
I told Michael, ‘There is no one in the world with whom I’d rather be snowed in than you!’
Monday, January 31, 2005
Friday, January 28, 2005
Michael and Math
Ah, the two extremes of my life…my dearest love and my private detestation. What do they have in common? (Besides the fact that Michael is very good at math.) Off the top of my head, I can think of funny anecdotes for both.
In the realm of mathematics…we finally settled with the insurance company on the auto claim (the personal injuries claim, the health claim, and the pain-and-suffering claim are all still to come). On Monday they called us and made us their initial offer. The loss adjuster gave me a series of figures to explain her reasoning, and I wrote it all down carefully, because it was very complex and logical. First she started with the initial cash value of the car, as determined by Blue Book averages and all that. Let’s say she called it $1,000. From this figure she deducted a loss for pre-existing damage (referencing minor scratches and imaginary dents), calling that, say, $100. ‘But I’m only going to take off half of that for you,’ she hurried to say. (This felt like sleight of hand to me.) Then she added in the $10 tag fee and the $100 taxes we’d need, to give us a grand total of, say, $1,060. (Non sequiter: do we see a pattern emerging here? For the sake of simplicity, my math story problems always tend to rely on factors of ten.) For some reason, the day she called I was not in my assertive mood, and felt like an absolute pushover as I murmured that that seemed rather low…I’d discuss it with my husband and get back with her – and then spent the rest of the morning berating my lack of backbone and rehashing what I ought to have said. So I had Michael call her back and deal with it from there, and of course he challenged her on the ‘pre-existing damage’ write-off, insisting that the scratches were minor and that we had never noticed any dents. Poof, just like that she agreed to take off that deduction. When we finally settled with them, the final notes looked something like this:
$950 agreed value of car
+ $110 tags and taxes
+ $50 misc. adjustments
= $1,110
Ha, ha, ha! Do you see the subtle psychology at work here? The implication is that they’re giving us a better deal, by working in the reverse loss as a credit. Note that the beginning figure is NOT the initial agreed-upon value of car, but THEIR final valuation of car, counting the (imaginary) loss, which they then generously turn around and give to us. Whatever. It made me laugh.
Now, on the Michael front…for some reason we’ve been getting a superfluity of junk calls lately. If they happen during dinner I usually let Michael take them, and then clatter my spoon as loudly as I can against my bowl to create the cacophonous impression that we are RIGHT in the middle of dinner. But if I don’t succeed in scaring them off at first, then it can be terribly amusing to listen to Michael’s response. Some of my favourites: ‘Wait a minute. You can’t even pronounce my last name. How can this be a special offer just for me if you don’t even know my name?’ ‘Oh, boy! It sounds too good to be true! Does it cost? What?? Oh, sorry. If it were free I might be interested.’ ‘You called me at 9:00 on a Saturday morning to tell me that??’
Yesterday morning I was borrowing his automatic shaver to work the tricky parts around my knees. ‘There you go again, running down my batteries,’ he remarked. ‘Batteries are expensive, you know. Yup. They don’t just grow on trees. We may have to cut down our ice cream budget just to make up for the extra money we spend on batteries now.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ I said sleepily. ‘I’ll buy you more batteries today.’ Only later did I realise that it was an electric shaver, which plugs in and recharges and doesn’t need new batteries.
In the realm of mathematics…we finally settled with the insurance company on the auto claim (the personal injuries claim, the health claim, and the pain-and-suffering claim are all still to come). On Monday they called us and made us their initial offer. The loss adjuster gave me a series of figures to explain her reasoning, and I wrote it all down carefully, because it was very complex and logical. First she started with the initial cash value of the car, as determined by Blue Book averages and all that. Let’s say she called it $1,000. From this figure she deducted a loss for pre-existing damage (referencing minor scratches and imaginary dents), calling that, say, $100. ‘But I’m only going to take off half of that for you,’ she hurried to say. (This felt like sleight of hand to me.) Then she added in the $10 tag fee and the $100 taxes we’d need, to give us a grand total of, say, $1,060. (Non sequiter: do we see a pattern emerging here? For the sake of simplicity, my math story problems always tend to rely on factors of ten.) For some reason, the day she called I was not in my assertive mood, and felt like an absolute pushover as I murmured that that seemed rather low…I’d discuss it with my husband and get back with her – and then spent the rest of the morning berating my lack of backbone and rehashing what I ought to have said. So I had Michael call her back and deal with it from there, and of course he challenged her on the ‘pre-existing damage’ write-off, insisting that the scratches were minor and that we had never noticed any dents. Poof, just like that she agreed to take off that deduction. When we finally settled with them, the final notes looked something like this:
$950 agreed value of car
+ $110 tags and taxes
+ $50 misc. adjustments
= $1,110
Ha, ha, ha! Do you see the subtle psychology at work here? The implication is that they’re giving us a better deal, by working in the reverse loss as a credit. Note that the beginning figure is NOT the initial agreed-upon value of car, but THEIR final valuation of car, counting the (imaginary) loss, which they then generously turn around and give to us. Whatever. It made me laugh.
Now, on the Michael front…for some reason we’ve been getting a superfluity of junk calls lately. If they happen during dinner I usually let Michael take them, and then clatter my spoon as loudly as I can against my bowl to create the cacophonous impression that we are RIGHT in the middle of dinner. But if I don’t succeed in scaring them off at first, then it can be terribly amusing to listen to Michael’s response. Some of my favourites: ‘Wait a minute. You can’t even pronounce my last name. How can this be a special offer just for me if you don’t even know my name?’ ‘Oh, boy! It sounds too good to be true! Does it cost? What?? Oh, sorry. If it were free I might be interested.’ ‘You called me at 9:00 on a Saturday morning to tell me that??’
Yesterday morning I was borrowing his automatic shaver to work the tricky parts around my knees. ‘There you go again, running down my batteries,’ he remarked. ‘Batteries are expensive, you know. Yup. They don’t just grow on trees. We may have to cut down our ice cream budget just to make up for the extra money we spend on batteries now.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ I said sleepily. ‘I’ll buy you more batteries today.’ Only later did I realise that it was an electric shaver, which plugs in and recharges and doesn’t need new batteries.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
We’re baaaaaack!!
Home at last, and it’s great to be settled once again, nice as the interlude in Florida was. We had a fabulous week. It was great to see everyone again, and we came back with great pictures and memories, suntans, and an addiction to Battlestar Galactica, which happened to be having a season premiere on the one rainy day of the week. It’s a terrible sci-fi series, badly scripted and acted, with impressive special effects and just enough of a plot to keep you guessing. We’re just dying to find out which of the supposed crew members is actually a cylon.
The camp had an archery range this year, a wonderful addition. Nearly every day found us out there dropping arrows. Michael perfected his bulls-eyes. I was happy when I hit the target. Michael actually won the midnight archery tournament toward the end of the week, although he insisted it was a very flaky scoring system. (Okay, so it could have been better organised, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was the best archer of all who participated! Basically they let you score your best three shots out of five, and pretty much let you have as many rounds as you wanted, so you could theoretically keep trying to improve your score indefinitely. Michael took one practise round and then two rounds of shots – same opportunity as everyone else – and won!)
Back to Real Life. We picked up our new rental upon our return. Now, I had joked that after the sleek Volvo we had the week before, anything would seem crummy by comparison, but this car actually is really crummy in its own right. Michael, sitting on the driver side, can touch the passenger door without even leaning over. It reeks of cigarette smoke. It gets terrible gas mileage. (We picked it up full, and within three days, it was empty. I growled that for it to have any kind of decent mileage, it had better have about a four-gallon tank, but no such luck.) And the sound system is pathetic. As Michael said, you know it’s a cheap sound system when you can adjust the volume just by moving your leg (it has a speaker on each door, which you can cover and thus muffle the sound). Hmm, that all sounds terribly whiny. Really, it’s more funny than stressful at this point, and we hope that its stay with us will be of short duration.
So we came back on Saturday, and went on to a surprise birthday party for Michael at Benjamin and Amanda’s place. I had really wanted to plan something fun for him, but it was tricky being out of town the entire week preceding, so I kept dropping ideas to divert his attention. ‘Wouldn’t you like to go out to dinner with Benjamin and Amanda to celebrate your birthday? Hmm, maybe we should just stop at their place and drive to the restaurant together.’ There were lots of friends to wish him well, and we had a great evening full of food, fun, and games.
Baby kicks quite a bit now. Sometimes I think I can identify a head or a foot, but that’s probably just imaginative projection. I am now officially feeling unwieldy and cumbersome.
It’s freezing out, quite literally as well as hyperbolically. Glad to be working indoors. Glad to be living in America, as opposed to Siberia, for instance.
The camp had an archery range this year, a wonderful addition. Nearly every day found us out there dropping arrows. Michael perfected his bulls-eyes. I was happy when I hit the target. Michael actually won the midnight archery tournament toward the end of the week, although he insisted it was a very flaky scoring system. (Okay, so it could have been better organised, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was the best archer of all who participated! Basically they let you score your best three shots out of five, and pretty much let you have as many rounds as you wanted, so you could theoretically keep trying to improve your score indefinitely. Michael took one practise round and then two rounds of shots – same opportunity as everyone else – and won!)
Back to Real Life. We picked up our new rental upon our return. Now, I had joked that after the sleek Volvo we had the week before, anything would seem crummy by comparison, but this car actually is really crummy in its own right. Michael, sitting on the driver side, can touch the passenger door without even leaning over. It reeks of cigarette smoke. It gets terrible gas mileage. (We picked it up full, and within three days, it was empty. I growled that for it to have any kind of decent mileage, it had better have about a four-gallon tank, but no such luck.) And the sound system is pathetic. As Michael said, you know it’s a cheap sound system when you can adjust the volume just by moving your leg (it has a speaker on each door, which you can cover and thus muffle the sound). Hmm, that all sounds terribly whiny. Really, it’s more funny than stressful at this point, and we hope that its stay with us will be of short duration.
So we came back on Saturday, and went on to a surprise birthday party for Michael at Benjamin and Amanda’s place. I had really wanted to plan something fun for him, but it was tricky being out of town the entire week preceding, so I kept dropping ideas to divert his attention. ‘Wouldn’t you like to go out to dinner with Benjamin and Amanda to celebrate your birthday? Hmm, maybe we should just stop at their place and drive to the restaurant together.’ There were lots of friends to wish him well, and we had a great evening full of food, fun, and games.
Baby kicks quite a bit now. Sometimes I think I can identify a head or a foot, but that’s probably just imaginative projection. I am now officially feeling unwieldy and cumbersome.
It’s freezing out, quite literally as well as hyperbolically. Glad to be working indoors. Glad to be living in America, as opposed to Siberia, for instance.
Monday, January 24, 2005
Happy Birthday Michael!!!
Merely the briefest of en passant posts to proclaim the happy tidings that Michael's birthday is today! Happy for the world the day he was born. Happy for me the day I married him. Happy for me every day since then, too.
Friday, January 14, 2005
'First check,' said Pippin grimly.
All is not such sweetness and light with the insurance companies as I had thought at first. We found out this week that my car has been ruled a total loss. Black Rider will ride no more. And now, instead of providing us a rental car for up to thirty days while completely repairing the car and restoring it to us in pre-accident condition, the insurance company gives us an ultimatum of three days from the time we settle our claim with them to return the rental car, and offers us a mere pittance for the value of the car. Going out of town for an unavoidable week in the middle of all this does not help with the timeframe. So it had better really help on the stress front.
Gloomy thoughts. Here are some cheerful thoughts to counteract the despondency.
We opened our personal Christmas presents on New Year's Day. We had agreed, since we spent the big bucks on the TV for each other, to exchange only inexpensive but thoughtful presents for the rest of our Christmas gift. These were a great success. I gave Michael a picture of me for him to take to his office (he's been wanting one for over a year), which I got for free from a coupon, and which I framed with a $2 frame from Goodwill. Michael gave me a CD he burned of some of my favourite tracks from my favourite CDs, so now I have a Best Of collection that has exactly the tracks I want. See, half the fun of exchanging these presents was in gloating over how cheap they turned out to be. Efficiency and thrift are virtues as admired in our house as in the Gilbreth house (Michael read a few chapters from Cheaper By the Dozen aloud to his family while we were there over Christmas. What a great book!)
Baby is very active. Must be healthy. Some people are still surprised to learn that I am pregnant. This is very gratifying. It's not that I'm not glad to be pregnant, but it's terribly reassuring to discover that it's not so obvious as all that. This won't last much longer, I'm sure. But it's nice while it lasts.
I'm up 5+ games of rummy to Michael in the unofficial tournament we've had since getting back from Ohio. We haven't played any more Euchre since I kept losing that. Rummy is such a nice game.
We had such a time of it trying to calculate the total points possible in any given game of rummy. This discussion was started over breakfast one morning this week after a game in which all but two (non-face) cards had been played. One of us had scored 170 and the other 180, so we deduced that there must be 360 total points out there. But we couldn't get the math to add up. Tens through aces scoring 10 points each offered a total of 200 for all the face cards, all suits, and then the nines and below should add up to 180 (9 cards x 4 suits x 5 points per card). We were twenty points off. We laughed long and hard when we realised our error.
It's been such fun reading Christmas letters from friends. I love hearing from people and it's so nice to read my friends' letters just as if they were real grown-ups. Having a Christmas card list is such a grown-up thing. I really, really, really do mean to be good and do it next year. Quotha.
Off to finish packing. Let's see if going off and ignoring the pile of stuff to be done has improved the situation any. Sometimes just ignoring problems makes them go away. Maybe if I go back and look at the bags now I will have clearer insight into what I should pack and everything will be a breeze.
Aloha for now! Have a great week, y'all!
Gloomy thoughts. Here are some cheerful thoughts to counteract the despondency.
We opened our personal Christmas presents on New Year's Day. We had agreed, since we spent the big bucks on the TV for each other, to exchange only inexpensive but thoughtful presents for the rest of our Christmas gift. These were a great success. I gave Michael a picture of me for him to take to his office (he's been wanting one for over a year), which I got for free from a coupon, and which I framed with a $2 frame from Goodwill. Michael gave me a CD he burned of some of my favourite tracks from my favourite CDs, so now I have a Best Of collection that has exactly the tracks I want. See, half the fun of exchanging these presents was in gloating over how cheap they turned out to be. Efficiency and thrift are virtues as admired in our house as in the Gilbreth house (Michael read a few chapters from Cheaper By the Dozen aloud to his family while we were there over Christmas. What a great book!)
Baby is very active. Must be healthy. Some people are still surprised to learn that I am pregnant. This is very gratifying. It's not that I'm not glad to be pregnant, but it's terribly reassuring to discover that it's not so obvious as all that. This won't last much longer, I'm sure. But it's nice while it lasts.
I'm up 5+ games of rummy to Michael in the unofficial tournament we've had since getting back from Ohio. We haven't played any more Euchre since I kept losing that. Rummy is such a nice game.
We had such a time of it trying to calculate the total points possible in any given game of rummy. This discussion was started over breakfast one morning this week after a game in which all but two (non-face) cards had been played. One of us had scored 170 and the other 180, so we deduced that there must be 360 total points out there. But we couldn't get the math to add up. Tens through aces scoring 10 points each offered a total of 200 for all the face cards, all suits, and then the nines and below should add up to 180 (9 cards x 4 suits x 5 points per card). We were twenty points off. We laughed long and hard when we realised our error.
It's been such fun reading Christmas letters from friends. I love hearing from people and it's so nice to read my friends' letters just as if they were real grown-ups. Having a Christmas card list is such a grown-up thing. I really, really, really do mean to be good and do it next year. Quotha.
Off to finish packing. Let's see if going off and ignoring the pile of stuff to be done has improved the situation any. Sometimes just ignoring problems makes them go away. Maybe if I go back and look at the bags now I will have clearer insight into what I should pack and everything will be a breeze.
Aloha for now! Have a great week, y'all!
Monday, January 10, 2005
Speak not with a stiff neck
Getting hit by a car is a more grueling ordeal than I've ever suspected.
I've heard of people who do this kind of thing on purpose (like swerving in front of a semi, and then slamming on the breaks to get rear-ended) to extract settlement money from insurance companies. They must be crazy.
The first thing we're grateful for is protection and health. Baby seems to be unaffected and it appears that I am not going to be messed up for life. I'm hurting more than I was the day of (still in shock) but less than I thought I would be the day after. Nothing is broken or even misaligned and it seems to be a straightforward case of hyper-tensed muscles that are just going to take a few weeks to relax. Toward that end, I had a massage therapy appointment on Saturday and it was so helpful. I ended up feeling sorer than ever the next day, almost bruised from the kneading, but the stiffness seemed better. We'll see if I can get another one or two this week. I really don't want to turn up at our family reunion next week unable to tilt or turn my head without pain. ('I feel kind of like an owl,' I told Michael, 'except the opposite.')
The second thing we're grateful for is provision. It looks like one way or another, between them, the insurance companies are going to cover everything and we won't end up being out anything out of pocket. That is a real blessing, since had we been at fault we would have had a steep deductible.
The third thing we're grateful for is the convenience. The day after the wreck, I dropped my car off at the insurance-recommended repair shop (no running around and wasting our whole Saturday getting multiple quotes and estimates to submit to our insurance) and picked up the rental car which was on-site and ready for me. It was all so smooth and painless.
The thing that astounds me the most is how the insurance industry operates. I have the equivalent of a whole essay jumbled up in my head, which I want to write but don't have the time to organise into coherent thought, on the topic of insurance fraud and ethics, just based on my conversations with the claims processors with both insurance companies. I'm sure this is old stuff to my lawyer friends out there, but no wonder insurance costs are so high!!!
So between running around to the doctor, auto place, and getting ready for a week out of town, the blog has been and is going to be sketchy. Don't worry. All is well.
Speaking of thoughts that must be uttered but that require more space and time than currently available (like Rosie Cotton's question that required a week's thought for an answer, or none), having just bought our tickets to Holland this past week at long last, do I ever have a piece of my mind to air about our skymiles credit card!!
I've heard of people who do this kind of thing on purpose (like swerving in front of a semi, and then slamming on the breaks to get rear-ended) to extract settlement money from insurance companies. They must be crazy.
The first thing we're grateful for is protection and health. Baby seems to be unaffected and it appears that I am not going to be messed up for life. I'm hurting more than I was the day of (still in shock) but less than I thought I would be the day after. Nothing is broken or even misaligned and it seems to be a straightforward case of hyper-tensed muscles that are just going to take a few weeks to relax. Toward that end, I had a massage therapy appointment on Saturday and it was so helpful. I ended up feeling sorer than ever the next day, almost bruised from the kneading, but the stiffness seemed better. We'll see if I can get another one or two this week. I really don't want to turn up at our family reunion next week unable to tilt or turn my head without pain. ('I feel kind of like an owl,' I told Michael, 'except the opposite.')
The second thing we're grateful for is provision. It looks like one way or another, between them, the insurance companies are going to cover everything and we won't end up being out anything out of pocket. That is a real blessing, since had we been at fault we would have had a steep deductible.
The third thing we're grateful for is the convenience. The day after the wreck, I dropped my car off at the insurance-recommended repair shop (no running around and wasting our whole Saturday getting multiple quotes and estimates to submit to our insurance) and picked up the rental car which was on-site and ready for me. It was all so smooth and painless.
The thing that astounds me the most is how the insurance industry operates. I have the equivalent of a whole essay jumbled up in my head, which I want to write but don't have the time to organise into coherent thought, on the topic of insurance fraud and ethics, just based on my conversations with the claims processors with both insurance companies. I'm sure this is old stuff to my lawyer friends out there, but no wonder insurance costs are so high!!!
So between running around to the doctor, auto place, and getting ready for a week out of town, the blog has been and is going to be sketchy. Don't worry. All is well.
Speaking of thoughts that must be uttered but that require more space and time than currently available (like Rosie Cotton's question that required a week's thought for an answer, or none), having just bought our tickets to Holland this past week at long last, do I ever have a piece of my mind to air about our skymiles credit card!!
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Providence
Sometimes it’s the big miracles that catch my attention, but as often as not it’s the little things that make me catch my breath and recognize God’s hand of protection in my life.
For instance, a few months ago, I was driving home from work stressing over something that obviously wasn’t important because I don’t remember it anymore. Probably something ended up costing more than I wanted it to, and I was mentally whining over all this money I didn’t want to be spending, and how stressful my life was. In the midst of my thoughts I felt a slight bump, and realized that I’d let my foot off the brake and drifted gently into the car in front of me. We pulled over, got out, examined our cars, and found not even a scratch. So we didn’t even exchange ID, just ascertained that the other was fine, and drove our separate ways. All the way home I was struck with gratitude at God’s protection of me. He could have taken it all away from me if He had wanted to, but He didn’t. I could so easily have been involved in a major accident that cost us lots of money and endless hassle, and quite honestly, drifting off into thoughts while driving (or looking into the mirror instead of at the road) is perhaps not as uncommon for me as it should be, so the truly amazing thing is that nothing bad had happened to me yet, not the other way around. It was a very welcome reminder that my life is in God’s hands at every moment of every day; it was an experience to put tangibility to the verse, ‘It is of the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed.’
Yesterday on my way to work I was reminded again of the frailty of our earthly security and how our fortunes can change in the twinkling of an eye. I was driving to work and had stopped behind a line of traffic while we waited for what Grace Matte once referred to as a yellow incarceration vehicle (school bus). I heard a wild squealing of brakes and almost immediately felt a jarring impact as a car slammed into me from behind. It was the most serious accident I have ever been involved in, and I was shaking as I pulled over to a safe place. I was about to get out and exchange info with the other driver, and had visions of getting stabbed and left for dead in a hit-and-run….better call someone first to alert them to the situation, I reasoned, so I’d have a card up my sleeve if the other driver proved eager to cover his tracks. (I’m full of instincts about bluffs and cards up your sleeve, and know you never, EVER say ‘no’ if you’re revealing a secret to someone, no matter how much you trust them, and they say, ‘Interesting. And you haven’t told anyone else this yet, correct?’ because that’s the obvious cue that they’re the double-crossing traitor and are going to silence you, so instead you bluff them and say, ‘Actually, I have written out an entire synopsis of my theory, along with proof, and it’s sitting in a safe-deposit box and the key is with a person I trust along with instructions to open and read the contents in the event of my mysterious death or disappearance…’ Yes, all this was going through my head as I pulled over and decided I really should call someone, just in case I ended up dead or missing.) So I called Michael and gave what, in retrospect, probably was not the most comforting or helpful news bulletin. ‘I’ve just been in an accident, but I think I’m okay…don’t worry, I’ll call you when I get a chance.’
It was pretty scary, actually. The back of my car was all smashed in, and we were both rattled as we tried to remember what you do in this situation. I thought we should write down each other’s license plates. But wasn’t there supposed to be an exchange of insurance information, too? (By the way, everyone should read an article about what to do in this type of situation. I thought I had at some point or another, but I didn’t know for sure exactly what to do. Were we supposed to call the police? But no one was hurt, as far as we could tell.) Michael called back then and said that we were supposed to call the police, simply so they could file an accident report. A police officer arrived on the scene shortly thereafter, wrote everything up, gave me his card with the accident report, and told me I could go if my car was drivable.
The really amazing thing is how God has protected us in spite of the serious circumstances. Everyone at work was very sympathetic, supportive, and full of good advice. My boss told me to check in with my doctor even if I felt all right, so I was able to get an appointment with my OB. They were concerned about trauma and possibly premature delivery, so I spent the rest of the afternoon resting in a back room hooked up to a fetal monitor and listening to the soothing sound of Baby’s heartbeat. (Have you ever put a stethoscope over your ears and tapped the sensor pad with your finger to hear the thump? Baby kept kicking the monitor and interrupting the heartbeat with static – sounded very similar.) The insurance company has been great, and is providing a rental car while mine is in the shop – I drop it off tonight at their recommended repair shop, and pick up the rental car that they will have on-site for me. It is all so painless, so easy, so stress-free.
Despite my best intention of not suffering from whiplash, because that seems like such a cliché, and I was positive that if I felt any soreness yesterday it would only come about from the power of suggestion, I really am hurting. More so today than yesterday, my neck and shoulders are really sore and stiff. However, I’m grateful that it wasn’t worse; I’m grateful that Baby is so apparently all right; I’m grateful that everything is being so well taken care of by insurance. Yet another reminder that God governs in the affairs of man.
For instance, a few months ago, I was driving home from work stressing over something that obviously wasn’t important because I don’t remember it anymore. Probably something ended up costing more than I wanted it to, and I was mentally whining over all this money I didn’t want to be spending, and how stressful my life was. In the midst of my thoughts I felt a slight bump, and realized that I’d let my foot off the brake and drifted gently into the car in front of me. We pulled over, got out, examined our cars, and found not even a scratch. So we didn’t even exchange ID, just ascertained that the other was fine, and drove our separate ways. All the way home I was struck with gratitude at God’s protection of me. He could have taken it all away from me if He had wanted to, but He didn’t. I could so easily have been involved in a major accident that cost us lots of money and endless hassle, and quite honestly, drifting off into thoughts while driving (or looking into the mirror instead of at the road) is perhaps not as uncommon for me as it should be, so the truly amazing thing is that nothing bad had happened to me yet, not the other way around. It was a very welcome reminder that my life is in God’s hands at every moment of every day; it was an experience to put tangibility to the verse, ‘It is of the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed.’
Yesterday on my way to work I was reminded again of the frailty of our earthly security and how our fortunes can change in the twinkling of an eye. I was driving to work and had stopped behind a line of traffic while we waited for what Grace Matte once referred to as a yellow incarceration vehicle (school bus). I heard a wild squealing of brakes and almost immediately felt a jarring impact as a car slammed into me from behind. It was the most serious accident I have ever been involved in, and I was shaking as I pulled over to a safe place. I was about to get out and exchange info with the other driver, and had visions of getting stabbed and left for dead in a hit-and-run….better call someone first to alert them to the situation, I reasoned, so I’d have a card up my sleeve if the other driver proved eager to cover his tracks. (I’m full of instincts about bluffs and cards up your sleeve, and know you never, EVER say ‘no’ if you’re revealing a secret to someone, no matter how much you trust them, and they say, ‘Interesting. And you haven’t told anyone else this yet, correct?’ because that’s the obvious cue that they’re the double-crossing traitor and are going to silence you, so instead you bluff them and say, ‘Actually, I have written out an entire synopsis of my theory, along with proof, and it’s sitting in a safe-deposit box and the key is with a person I trust along with instructions to open and read the contents in the event of my mysterious death or disappearance…’ Yes, all this was going through my head as I pulled over and decided I really should call someone, just in case I ended up dead or missing.) So I called Michael and gave what, in retrospect, probably was not the most comforting or helpful news bulletin. ‘I’ve just been in an accident, but I think I’m okay…don’t worry, I’ll call you when I get a chance.’
It was pretty scary, actually. The back of my car was all smashed in, and we were both rattled as we tried to remember what you do in this situation. I thought we should write down each other’s license plates. But wasn’t there supposed to be an exchange of insurance information, too? (By the way, everyone should read an article about what to do in this type of situation. I thought I had at some point or another, but I didn’t know for sure exactly what to do. Were we supposed to call the police? But no one was hurt, as far as we could tell.) Michael called back then and said that we were supposed to call the police, simply so they could file an accident report. A police officer arrived on the scene shortly thereafter, wrote everything up, gave me his card with the accident report, and told me I could go if my car was drivable.
The really amazing thing is how God has protected us in spite of the serious circumstances. Everyone at work was very sympathetic, supportive, and full of good advice. My boss told me to check in with my doctor even if I felt all right, so I was able to get an appointment with my OB. They were concerned about trauma and possibly premature delivery, so I spent the rest of the afternoon resting in a back room hooked up to a fetal monitor and listening to the soothing sound of Baby’s heartbeat. (Have you ever put a stethoscope over your ears and tapped the sensor pad with your finger to hear the thump? Baby kept kicking the monitor and interrupting the heartbeat with static – sounded very similar.) The insurance company has been great, and is providing a rental car while mine is in the shop – I drop it off tonight at their recommended repair shop, and pick up the rental car that they will have on-site for me. It is all so painless, so easy, so stress-free.
Despite my best intention of not suffering from whiplash, because that seems like such a cliché, and I was positive that if I felt any soreness yesterday it would only come about from the power of suggestion, I really am hurting. More so today than yesterday, my neck and shoulders are really sore and stiff. However, I’m grateful that it wasn’t worse; I’m grateful that Baby is so apparently all right; I’m grateful that everything is being so well taken care of by insurance. Yet another reminder that God governs in the affairs of man.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Sunny days
After the cold and snow of Ohio, this past week back in Atlanta has seemed incredibly breezy and balmy. Of course, with temps in the 60s and the sun shining every day, that perception isn’t far wrong.
Another exciting feature about Christmas this year was that the day after, Michael got to feel Baby’s kicks for the first time. We were sitting on the couch at his parents’ house watching The Court Jester, and Baby started in with a workout routine that I felt certain simply must be perceptible externally. Sure enough, he caught the action, and pronounced it absolutely staggering. Sometimes, when I think it’s big enough to be noticeable and get all excited, Baby takes the cue and falls silent. But Michael catches it enough to notice, and sometimes even provides helpful dialogue – ‘Help! Help! Let me out! I’m trapped!’
2005 has been a wonderful year so far. We rang in the New Year with fun and merriment, had two long weekends in a row, slept in substantially through the course of it all, enjoyed every single Christmas present, and the house is clean and the larder stocked. We’ve played two-handed rummy practically every night while eating our surfeit of Christmas chocolates, and we are getting in the habit of going for a walk around our neighborhood every night. Most nights are clear, and we mean to brush up on our constellations so we can admire them eruditely together. This past week it’s been so mild that we don’t even need jackets, even after dark. Two weeks from now we’ll be in Florida for a reunion with my family, and two months from now – if all goes well – we’ll be preparing to leave for two weeks in Holland with my grandmother. Life is good.
Another exciting feature about Christmas this year was that the day after, Michael got to feel Baby’s kicks for the first time. We were sitting on the couch at his parents’ house watching The Court Jester, and Baby started in with a workout routine that I felt certain simply must be perceptible externally. Sure enough, he caught the action, and pronounced it absolutely staggering. Sometimes, when I think it’s big enough to be noticeable and get all excited, Baby takes the cue and falls silent. But Michael catches it enough to notice, and sometimes even provides helpful dialogue – ‘Help! Help! Let me out! I’m trapped!’
2005 has been a wonderful year so far. We rang in the New Year with fun and merriment, had two long weekends in a row, slept in substantially through the course of it all, enjoyed every single Christmas present, and the house is clean and the larder stocked. We’ve played two-handed rummy practically every night while eating our surfeit of Christmas chocolates, and we are getting in the habit of going for a walk around our neighborhood every night. Most nights are clear, and we mean to brush up on our constellations so we can admire them eruditely together. This past week it’s been so mild that we don’t even need jackets, even after dark. Two weeks from now we’ll be in Florida for a reunion with my family, and two months from now – if all goes well – we’ll be preparing to leave for two weeks in Holland with my grandmother. Life is good.
Monday, January 03, 2005
Happy New Year!
Here we are in the brave new world of 2005! Last year was a fabulous year, and it went by so quickly that I fully expect this one to do the same. But the plan is to savour it while it lasts.
We had a wonderful Christmas in Ohio with Michael’s family. Lots of snow. Very cold. We ate lots of good food, watched scads of movies, introduced Michael’s family to The Court Jester, and learned to play euchre and another version of rummy. Came back mid-week, on a much-delayed flight (but I asked for and got a meal voucher, so we got a free milkshake out of the delay), and had only two days of work before it was another long weekend. (The trouble with all these three- and four-day weekends is that they absolutely ruin us for Real Life. I actually feel ripped off that I have to work every blessed day this week.)
We had a wonderful Christmas in Ohio with Michael’s family. Lots of snow. Very cold. We ate lots of good food, watched scads of movies, introduced Michael’s family to The Court Jester, and learned to play euchre and another version of rummy. Came back mid-week, on a much-delayed flight (but I asked for and got a meal voucher, so we got a free milkshake out of the delay), and had only two days of work before it was another long weekend. (The trouble with all these three- and four-day weekends is that they absolutely ruin us for Real Life. I actually feel ripped off that I have to work every blessed day this week.)
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Deep thoughts on shallow topics
On Saturday we went to the theatre (yes, the full-price theatre, because we were too impatient to wait for it to come out in the cheap theatre) to catch the matinee of Ocean’s Twelve. Okay, so maybe the plot was less believable than the first time around, but the movie was still incredibly well-made. I kept my eyes open, expecting a surprise at every turn, and still didn’t know what was really going on. Very funny, too. But what strikes me as odd about modern movies is that no matter how general an audience the feature presentation is intended for, they always manage to sneak in at least one scary preview. As soon as the scary people started showing up, I closed my eyes. Michael leaned over and whispered, ‘I don’t care what it’s about – I don’t want to talk about it later!’ Ha! He is referring to my habit of analyzing things that don’t make sense until I have them figured out. (For instance, recently I woke up early on a Saturday morning, struck by a brilliant thought. ‘Michael! I know how you could avoid getting attacked by hordes of mating anacondas in the middle of the jungle if your numbers were dwindling and you couldn’t count on your buddies to shoot them before they latch on to you and start squeezing!’ The problem, you see, is not the venom – they bite you only to get a good grip, so they can wrap themselves around you and start crushing. Usually they are too quick for you to get your arms free, so your arms are pinned to your side and you can’t fight them off or shoot them before they crush you. The solution, obviously, is to strap sharp metal discs to your arms, such that anything that wraps itself around you and starts tightening slices itself to death in the process.)
Later, however, a thought re: latest scary preview occurred to me. ‘You know what the problem was with that movie? The basic premise was that heaven wouldn’t accept him, and hell wants him. That construct doesn’t provide any dramatic tension. For any story to be effective, there has to be conflict and tension. Now, it would be different if BOTH heaven and hell wanted him, or if NEITHER would accept him. But as it stands, there is no dilemma, and hence no story or plot.’ ‘Good,’ Michael said. ‘So we’re not going to talk about it any more, are we?’
Later, however, a thought re: latest scary preview occurred to me. ‘You know what the problem was with that movie? The basic premise was that heaven wouldn’t accept him, and hell wants him. That construct doesn’t provide any dramatic tension. For any story to be effective, there has to be conflict and tension. Now, it would be different if BOTH heaven and hell wanted him, or if NEITHER would accept him. But as it stands, there is no dilemma, and hence no story or plot.’ ‘Good,’ Michael said. ‘So we’re not going to talk about it any more, are we?’
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
A light shineth in the darkness…and the darkness comprehended it not
Hurray for sunlight and laughter on the shortest and darkest day of the year!
Here are some interesting facts about today:
Today is the winter solstice. After today, the days will get longer, although the change in daylight from day to day will be gradual, picking up speed as we approach the equinox. The winter and summer solstices come from a word meaning ‘To stand still,’ because the sun seems to stand still on the plane of the elliptic. Hence the gradual change in daylight.
Although the days get longer, the cold intensifies through January and February. You can remember this little aphorism:
When the days begin to lengthen,
The cold begins to strengthen.
It is dead week at the office. Fortunately vendors and reps are still bringing us edibles on a daily basis. One need hardly bring in a lunch anymore.
Here are some interesting facts about today:
Today is the winter solstice. After today, the days will get longer, although the change in daylight from day to day will be gradual, picking up speed as we approach the equinox. The winter and summer solstices come from a word meaning ‘To stand still,’ because the sun seems to stand still on the plane of the elliptic. Hence the gradual change in daylight.
Although the days get longer, the cold intensifies through January and February. You can remember this little aphorism:
When the days begin to lengthen,
The cold begins to strengthen.
It is dead week at the office. Fortunately vendors and reps are still bringing us edibles on a daily basis. One need hardly bring in a lunch anymore.
Monday, December 20, 2004
A party is a party…but a Christmas party! –
Catherine, having been thwarted in her plans to wear a long blonde wig to our Valentine’s Day party, is planning with all enthusiasm a costume party for New Year’s Eve. In theory I love the idea of a masquerade, although I can’t think of a suitable disguise. It would be really clever if Michael and I could find a theme and dress up to match – like the husband and wife from American Gothic, only that’s way too much trouble. I think I’ll dress up as a pregnant woman with a small pillow stuffed under her shirt.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Catch a falling star
Last night we went for a walk to catch a glimpse of the famed meteor shower. This was rumoured to be the best of the year, better even than the one in August. Although the peak was supposed to be between midnight and dawn, during which there were supposed to be in excess of two shooting stars a minute, we hoped to see a good show before bedtime.
It was bitterly cold. We bundled up, and we were still shivering. But the wonder was well worth the effort. It was a dark and moonless night, and the winter sky shone brightly. (I loved learning, in astronomy class long ago, why it is that there are so many bright stars in the winter sky: because in the winter we are facing outwards, toward the dark emptiness of space, but since our solar system is located on the edge of one of the spiral arms of the galaxy, we are close to the stars in the spiral arm. In the summer, we are facing into the centre of the galaxy, but first we gaze across a vast emptiness of darkness before the Milky Way. So in the summer, you have a splendid sprawl of hazy brilliance but not so many stars of high magnitude, whereas in the winter you have a spectacular line-up of bright stars.) We walked for three minutes before the wind became bitterly cold and we turned back. Before going in we stood for a little while gazing up at the sky. And there was a glorious shooting star which we both saw quite distinctly! It all seemed very magical. 'What are we supposed to do, make a wish or something?' Michael asked. 'I don't know, something special,' I said. So we kissed, and then ran indoors to warmth, blessed warmth.
Speaking of which, plans are underway (we're 2.5 weeks out now, that's a head start compared to last year) for some kind of New Year's Eve party for our circle of newly-married friends, a.k.a. People Who Have Someone To Kiss At Midnight.
It was bitterly cold. We bundled up, and we were still shivering. But the wonder was well worth the effort. It was a dark and moonless night, and the winter sky shone brightly. (I loved learning, in astronomy class long ago, why it is that there are so many bright stars in the winter sky: because in the winter we are facing outwards, toward the dark emptiness of space, but since our solar system is located on the edge of one of the spiral arms of the galaxy, we are close to the stars in the spiral arm. In the summer, we are facing into the centre of the galaxy, but first we gaze across a vast emptiness of darkness before the Milky Way. So in the summer, you have a splendid sprawl of hazy brilliance but not so many stars of high magnitude, whereas in the winter you have a spectacular line-up of bright stars.) We walked for three minutes before the wind became bitterly cold and we turned back. Before going in we stood for a little while gazing up at the sky. And there was a glorious shooting star which we both saw quite distinctly! It all seemed very magical. 'What are we supposed to do, make a wish or something?' Michael asked. 'I don't know, something special,' I said. So we kissed, and then ran indoors to warmth, blessed warmth.
Speaking of which, plans are underway (we're 2.5 weeks out now, that's a head start compared to last year) for some kind of New Year's Eve party for our circle of newly-married friends, a.k.a. People Who Have Someone To Kiss At Midnight.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Overheard in front of the mirror
Michael: That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing. And a lovely lady inside.
Me: Ha, ha! Maybe two!
Michael: Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. We could have a really ugly kid.
Me: How can you say such a thing? Of course our child will be beautiful!
Michael: You never know what kind of recessive genes we have floating around inside of us, love.
Me: Ha, ha! Maybe two!
Michael: Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. We could have a really ugly kid.
Me: How can you say such a thing? Of course our child will be beautiful!
Michael: You never know what kind of recessive genes we have floating around inside of us, love.
Christmas parties, past and present
For the second year in a row I missed the HSLDA Christmas party. I heard it was really great. I hope y'all enjoyed it.
Through no fault of my own Michael has never been. I invited him two years ago, but he turned me down (like a bedspread, as Bertie would say). Something about having to attend a friend's wedding that weekend.
Friday night found us well consoled for missing out on the biggest party of the year, though. We went out to dinner with Benjamin & Amanda and Ron & Catherine to celebrate Benjamin's birthday. The subject of the HSLDA Christmas party came up, and Catherine and I revisited her intern skit of '99, HSLDA Pages of History. 'Remember Mike Smith's page about Scott Woodruff and Doggie Auschwitz?' Ron and Michael looked on while we dissolved into laughter trying to explain how you could always tell when a Mike Smith page was about to come over the airwaves.
Recent history of HSLDA Christmas parties and respective highlights:
1999: The Y2K bug skit. Intern Pages. The first of Tech's unforgettable GroupWise Guys skits (Answer: three walls and a door. Question: What's all that John Moore needs to have a complete office?). Receptionist Jam, where Sherri Wilson donned sunglasses while we jammed to headphones.
2000: In Re: Bear Family, with Darren as a judge, Amy as a redhead, and Dana as a ditzy blonde. Tech's NitWit Mover's spoof of our traumatic move. Sara's first HSLDA Christmas party, and her 'surprise' announcement.
2001: The Twelve Working Days of Christmas ('Yes, that's H as in Harry Potter, S as in Shrek, L as in Legally Blonde, D as in...hello? Hello?'). The conference skit (Kerin Bloom as a gum-chewing Chicken a la King sales rep - 'Elvis Brand chicken'; Jonathan Bechtle as the Airline Nazi - 'No strangulating objects, including shoelaces - this is a velcro-only flight').
2002: New Employee Orientation ('You don't want to work down that hallway. Here's a can of Romance Guard - $10.99 on E-bay.') Tech Dept. runs HSLDA for a day (John Moore pours MiracleGro on Bill Bloom's head; John Bullock pays members to join HSLDA).
And that's where my first-hand experience drops off. I did hear, however, that this year's party was the biggest yet, that the skits were funny and my own brother did a cameo in one of them, and that Jim Mason won the Co-Laborer of the Year award. I sincerely hope, since all the skits were taped this year, to get a copy someday.
Sunday night found us at our Sunday school's Christmas party. We met at the church, had more than enough food (as always happens at potlucks), and enjoyed a rousing white elephant gift exchange. It was so satisfying, because we brought two gifts that seemed pretty blah to us - but which were a surprising hit and got stolen to the limit - and came away with a brand-new DVD. 'Tis the season!
Through no fault of my own Michael has never been. I invited him two years ago, but he turned me down (like a bedspread, as Bertie would say). Something about having to attend a friend's wedding that weekend.
Friday night found us well consoled for missing out on the biggest party of the year, though. We went out to dinner with Benjamin & Amanda and Ron & Catherine to celebrate Benjamin's birthday. The subject of the HSLDA Christmas party came up, and Catherine and I revisited her intern skit of '99, HSLDA Pages of History. 'Remember Mike Smith's page about Scott Woodruff and Doggie Auschwitz?' Ron and Michael looked on while we dissolved into laughter trying to explain how you could always tell when a Mike Smith page was about to come over the airwaves.
Recent history of HSLDA Christmas parties and respective highlights:
1999: The Y2K bug skit. Intern Pages. The first of Tech's unforgettable GroupWise Guys skits (Answer: three walls and a door. Question: What's all that John Moore needs to have a complete office?). Receptionist Jam, where Sherri Wilson donned sunglasses while we jammed to headphones.
2000: In Re: Bear Family, with Darren as a judge, Amy as a redhead, and Dana as a ditzy blonde. Tech's NitWit Mover's spoof of our traumatic move. Sara's first HSLDA Christmas party, and her 'surprise' announcement.
2001: The Twelve Working Days of Christmas ('Yes, that's H as in Harry Potter, S as in Shrek, L as in Legally Blonde, D as in...hello? Hello?'). The conference skit (Kerin Bloom as a gum-chewing Chicken a la King sales rep - 'Elvis Brand chicken'; Jonathan Bechtle as the Airline Nazi - 'No strangulating objects, including shoelaces - this is a velcro-only flight').
2002: New Employee Orientation ('You don't want to work down that hallway. Here's a can of Romance Guard - $10.99 on E-bay.') Tech Dept. runs HSLDA for a day (John Moore pours MiracleGro on Bill Bloom's head; John Bullock pays members to join HSLDA).
And that's where my first-hand experience drops off. I did hear, however, that this year's party was the biggest yet, that the skits were funny and my own brother did a cameo in one of them, and that Jim Mason won the Co-Laborer of the Year award. I sincerely hope, since all the skits were taped this year, to get a copy someday.
Sunday night found us at our Sunday school's Christmas party. We met at the church, had more than enough food (as always happens at potlucks), and enjoyed a rousing white elephant gift exchange. It was so satisfying, because we brought two gifts that seemed pretty blah to us - but which were a surprising hit and got stolen to the limit - and came away with a brand-new DVD. 'Tis the season!
Friday, December 10, 2004
On the ancient Greeks
As part of their schoolwork, my brothers are now presenting some form of public speaking every week: their choice of a speech, a recitation, a poetry reading (yeah, right), etc. 7-year-old Thomas wrote out his own speech:
GReeKS WeRe PeOPLe WHO WeReNt EXACtLY SUPeRStItIOUS BeCAUSe tHe AZteCS AND MAYANS SACRIFICeD HUMANS BUt GReeKS SACRIFICeD ANIMALS WItH tHeIR GODS tHEY WeRe A LIttLe BIt SUPeRStItIOUS BUt tHE MAYANS AND tHe ASteCS WeRe BAD tAKING OUT BEAtING HeARtS tHe ANIMALS tHAt tHe GReeKS SACRIFICeD WeRe SINLeSS BUt tHe GReeK StILL KILLeD tHeM.
In a recent email, Joseph told me, 'We are now studying the ancient Greeks, soon to be ancient Romans.' Apparently he thought the ancient Greeks actually turned into Romans, instead of being conquered by them.
GReeKS WeRe PeOPLe WHO WeReNt EXACtLY SUPeRStItIOUS BeCAUSe tHe AZteCS AND MAYANS SACRIFICeD HUMANS BUt GReeKS SACRIFICeD ANIMALS WItH tHeIR GODS tHEY WeRe A LIttLe BIt SUPeRStItIOUS BUt tHE MAYANS AND tHe ASteCS WeRe BAD tAKING OUT BEAtING HeARtS tHe ANIMALS tHAt tHe GReeKS SACRIFICeD WeRe SINLeSS BUt tHe GReeK StILL KILLeD tHeM.
In a recent email, Joseph told me, 'We are now studying the ancient Greeks, soon to be ancient Romans.' Apparently he thought the ancient Greeks actually turned into Romans, instead of being conquered by them.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Road rage and deadly force
We had an interesting conversation while shopping over the weekend. Traffic was busy, and at one point Michael switched lanes, where there was a perfectly good opening. He used his turn signal, and traffic was moving slowly enough that no one had to slam on brakes to make room for us. However, the driver behind us did not appreciate our invasion of what he apparently considered his privacy bubble, and expressed his disapproval most strongly and sustainedly. He honked loudly and repeatedly, flashed his lights at us, and gunned his engine while tail-gating us closely, for perhaps fifteen seconds. 'Temper, temper!' I said. 'Bite me,' Michael said.
Nothing further came of it, fortunately, but Michael remarked later, 'So if he had started ramming us, would that have occasioned me hopping out and shooting him?'
'Surely not!' was my first reaction. 'I don't think that would count as self-defense.'
Michael pointed out that the supersize truck was substantially bigger than our car, and could have totaled our car had it gotten violent. Such aggression would constitute deadly force. I wasn't sure that we would really have been at risk of death under such a circumstance. After all, we were seatbelted in, right?
'If he had really started coming after us, he could have rammed us, set the car spinning, and easily crumpled through the body of the car, killing us. Or he could have rammed the car off the overpass.'
'Well, but by the time you had jumped out of the car to shoot him, you would be free of the car and the imminent danger would have passed, right?'
'If we were outside of the car, we would be sitting ducks. It's much easier to run down and kill a pedestrian. So if we were getting out of the car, it would be to stop him.'
Next I thought that jumping out of the car, smashing the driver's window, and yelling, 'Stop or I'll shoot!' would be enough to halt his rampage. (I'm always of the opinion that the mere sight of a gun should stop an attacker dead in his tracks. Michael always reminds me that the only way you can be sure of stopping an attacker dead in his tracks with a gun is by shooting him. 'If you pull a gun, you have to be prepared to use it. Pulling a gun without intent to use it is worse than useless - it's an invitation to wrest the gun from you.') I also suggested the possibility of dialing 911 as soon as the attack started - 'Help! I'm being rammed by a vehicle - license plate ### - if I get out he'll run me down and if I stay he'll wreck my car, not to mention me - what should I do?' Michael observed that there wouldn't be time to get any police help from a 911 call, and that you don't call 911 to ask permission to shoot someone in self-defense.
Hmmm. Is puzzlement. If I were certain that we were at risk of being killed, then certainly shooting in self-defense would be justified. Next I thought that the problem arose from determining the intent of the aggressive driver. But even that doesn't cover it. He could be so angry that he was actually out to kill us, or he could just be expressing his anger such that killing us was an unintended side-effect. 'Deadly force' doesn't mean force applied with the intent to make you dead, but force with the capacity to make you dead.
Well, I guess it's a good thing he didn't start ramming us.
Nothing further came of it, fortunately, but Michael remarked later, 'So if he had started ramming us, would that have occasioned me hopping out and shooting him?'
'Surely not!' was my first reaction. 'I don't think that would count as self-defense.'
Michael pointed out that the supersize truck was substantially bigger than our car, and could have totaled our car had it gotten violent. Such aggression would constitute deadly force. I wasn't sure that we would really have been at risk of death under such a circumstance. After all, we were seatbelted in, right?
'If he had really started coming after us, he could have rammed us, set the car spinning, and easily crumpled through the body of the car, killing us. Or he could have rammed the car off the overpass.'
'Well, but by the time you had jumped out of the car to shoot him, you would be free of the car and the imminent danger would have passed, right?'
'If we were outside of the car, we would be sitting ducks. It's much easier to run down and kill a pedestrian. So if we were getting out of the car, it would be to stop him.'
Next I thought that jumping out of the car, smashing the driver's window, and yelling, 'Stop or I'll shoot!' would be enough to halt his rampage. (I'm always of the opinion that the mere sight of a gun should stop an attacker dead in his tracks. Michael always reminds me that the only way you can be sure of stopping an attacker dead in his tracks with a gun is by shooting him. 'If you pull a gun, you have to be prepared to use it. Pulling a gun without intent to use it is worse than useless - it's an invitation to wrest the gun from you.') I also suggested the possibility of dialing 911 as soon as the attack started - 'Help! I'm being rammed by a vehicle - license plate ### - if I get out he'll run me down and if I stay he'll wreck my car, not to mention me - what should I do?' Michael observed that there wouldn't be time to get any police help from a 911 call, and that you don't call 911 to ask permission to shoot someone in self-defense.
Hmmm. Is puzzlement. If I were certain that we were at risk of being killed, then certainly shooting in self-defense would be justified. Next I thought that the problem arose from determining the intent of the aggressive driver. But even that doesn't cover it. He could be so angry that he was actually out to kill us, or he could just be expressing his anger such that killing us was an unintended side-effect. 'Deadly force' doesn't mean force applied with the intent to make you dead, but force with the capacity to make you dead.
Well, I guess it's a good thing he didn't start ramming us.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
A study in exasperation
Last weekend Michael and I finally purchased a 'new' TV. This is something we've been looking forward to for the last year, ever since we decided that a TV didn't make the first cut of priorities from all the wedding present gift cards and such. We wanted to get the right model, so we took our time and planned carefully and saved up and researched for the perfect TV that would meet our needs, be nice enough to want to keep for many years, and be modern enough to accommodate the changing technology demands of the next few years without being so close to the cutting that it would be horrifically expensive. Our current TV turns ten years old this year, and isn't compatible with modern DVDs - older videos that have been made into DVDs without getting digitally remastered, such as our A&E P&P or Bertie & Jeeves, work fine, but most new releases flicker badly, so we pretty much have to watch anything on DVD on the office computer. So this will definitely be a welcome Christmas present to each other.
There we were in the electronics department, and Michael found the perfect model - big enough, but not so big as to be pretentious; HDTV compatible, which is apparently going to be important a few years down the road; sleek and silver; and best of all, discounted at a great price. It was an open box model, meaning that it had been purchased and then returned, so it couldn't be re-sold as new, even though it was essentially brand-new. I do love bargains. We tried to take it home that day, but it didn't fit in my car, so Michael came back the next day with his truck. When we finally got it home and unwrapped it, Michael noticed several scratches and other minor cosmetic defects on the front and side panels that certainly weren't there when we saw it in the store. Obviously, this must have occurred when they tried unsuccessfully to load it up the first time - I must admit, I had my doubts when I saw them trundling the TV out there on a barren dolly, with no padding or wrapping at all. 'I wonder whether we could call them up and demand a further discount?' Michael pondered. Good idea - we even looked at the label, and it was clearly labeled Used but clearly NOT labeled Damaged. Certainly if it had looked defective in the store, we would have asked about getting a cosmetic discount. So yesterday when I got home from work, I gamely sat down in front of the computer and dialed the store.
By the end of the next hour, I had decided that, regardless of how willing I was to overlook or forgive any cosmetic imperfections in our new TV's sleek silver exterior, I was by jingo going to demand a discount just for the time spent in addressing the problem. The saga became reminiscent of The Place That Sends You Mad, from The Twelve Tasks of Asterix. The trouble was that I was deeply into the mire before I fully grasped the absurdity and ridiculousness of the situation, so it wasn't until about half an hour in that I started writing down times, phone calls, and names.
It started innocently enough. 'Hi. I need to talk to someone in the Electronics Department,' I said brightly enough, after spending about three minutes navigating the phone system and finally getting a live person, the operator. I was transferred and the call was lost. Repeat scenario (another three minutes). This time I made sure to ask that she call over there first and make sure someone was there to answer. Turns out the electronics department's phone was out of order (at this point, early on, I was still amused enough to chuckle privately at the irony of the electronic department's phone being out of order, who of all people should be able to fix or replace it) and all the associates over there were busy anyway. 'Well, then I need to speak to a manager.' I was told I was being transferred to customer service. Hold. Then, 'I'm sorry, but that line is busy. Please hold while I try again.' (A recording.) The attempt was not successful. 'We are unable to transfer your call. Please call again later.' Argh. Another three minutes. This time the question of the TV was shadowed by the question of the phone system. 'Hi, I called just a moment ago. I need to speak to someone in electronics, but don't transfer me there because their phone doesn't work. Please get me a manager and make sure someone picks up.' 'Of course, ma'am.' And we had the same scenario all over again. Three more minutes. This time I am more explicit. 'I need to speak with a manager, and I need for you not to transfer me, but to put me on hold. I have called several times, and each time I call the call is lost.' So I finally got to talk to someone, and was about a minute into explaining my tale - to which he was sympathetic, at least: 'Oh, dear. That's not good. Yes, let me look this up for you. Do you have your receipt? What was the transaction ID? Let me put you on hold a moment while I look this up'- and there I was, cut off by the same busy recording. The situation was clearly becoming unreal. I called again. At this point I began taking names, so that there would be a clear paper trail should history repeat itself. I started from square one again with some other manager or sales associate, who was likewise sympathetic but with whom my conversation was again cut short by the untimely interruption of the busy recording. At this point I became convinced that it was not just the electronics department with a defective phone. 'Hi. I have been trying to call for the last forty-five minutes-' 'I'm so sorry, ma'am!' (Very friendly, helpful people! All of them! They just have a wretched phone system!) 'That's okay, but I just need to get through to someone. Please page a manager, make sure someone live picks up, and do not try to transfer the call.' No good. I am halfway through explaining my situation when the phone cuts me off. By now I am more than a little pipped. We go through the whole voice mail saga again. Once again I talk to a live person, who asks cheerfully, 'How may I direct your call?' Okay, a normal conversation is obviously not going to happen on this turf. 'Hello. I need you to take my name and number, and have a manager call me back immediately on a cell phone. I have spent the last hour on the phone trying to reach someone, and your phone system has consistently cut me off. Please have a manager call me back immediately.' 'All right ma'am, hold just one moment.' 'No, don't put me on hol....' No use. Busy. I repeat this scenario a few times, until I can get someone to believe me when I say, 'Do not transfer me and do not put me on hold. I need you to take my name and number and have a manager call me back.' Then this paragon of a helpful person reveals to me that it is not a function of the hold, nor of the transfer, but of the fact that the phone line cuts off after three minutes when the call comes in through the switchboard. I am floored. My problem cannot be explained in less than three minutes. 'That is why I need you to take my name and number and have a manager return my call on a valid line.' She transfers me to someone who offers to page a manager for me, and I barely manage to leave my number before the phone cuts off. At this point I conclude to leave well enough alone and hope that someone with whom I left my number will make sure a manager calls me back.
I cannot recall ever experiencing a runaround as bad as this before. And I was glad to note that even though I was frustrated with the situation, I was never inclined to be mad with the people themselves. Michael came in toward the end of some of my conversations, and I even asked him, 'Did you think I sounded mad? Because I wasn't, really, and was trying to achieve the right tone of firmness without irritation.' I've been on the answering end of a phone enough to know that angry callers accomplish nothing by belligerence or impatience, besides making helpless underlings who had nothing to do with the original problem feel miserable.
Perseverance pays off. Later that evening I did indeed get a call back from a manager who apologised handsomely for the confusion and offered an additional 10% off the purchase. I think that was worth an hour of my life.
There we were in the electronics department, and Michael found the perfect model - big enough, but not so big as to be pretentious; HDTV compatible, which is apparently going to be important a few years down the road; sleek and silver; and best of all, discounted at a great price. It was an open box model, meaning that it had been purchased and then returned, so it couldn't be re-sold as new, even though it was essentially brand-new. I do love bargains. We tried to take it home that day, but it didn't fit in my car, so Michael came back the next day with his truck. When we finally got it home and unwrapped it, Michael noticed several scratches and other minor cosmetic defects on the front and side panels that certainly weren't there when we saw it in the store. Obviously, this must have occurred when they tried unsuccessfully to load it up the first time - I must admit, I had my doubts when I saw them trundling the TV out there on a barren dolly, with no padding or wrapping at all. 'I wonder whether we could call them up and demand a further discount?' Michael pondered. Good idea - we even looked at the label, and it was clearly labeled Used but clearly NOT labeled Damaged. Certainly if it had looked defective in the store, we would have asked about getting a cosmetic discount. So yesterday when I got home from work, I gamely sat down in front of the computer and dialed the store.
By the end of the next hour, I had decided that, regardless of how willing I was to overlook or forgive any cosmetic imperfections in our new TV's sleek silver exterior, I was by jingo going to demand a discount just for the time spent in addressing the problem. The saga became reminiscent of The Place That Sends You Mad, from The Twelve Tasks of Asterix. The trouble was that I was deeply into the mire before I fully grasped the absurdity and ridiculousness of the situation, so it wasn't until about half an hour in that I started writing down times, phone calls, and names.
It started innocently enough. 'Hi. I need to talk to someone in the Electronics Department,' I said brightly enough, after spending about three minutes navigating the phone system and finally getting a live person, the operator. I was transferred and the call was lost. Repeat scenario (another three minutes). This time I made sure to ask that she call over there first and make sure someone was there to answer. Turns out the electronics department's phone was out of order (at this point, early on, I was still amused enough to chuckle privately at the irony of the electronic department's phone being out of order, who of all people should be able to fix or replace it) and all the associates over there were busy anyway. 'Well, then I need to speak to a manager.' I was told I was being transferred to customer service. Hold. Then, 'I'm sorry, but that line is busy. Please hold while I try again.' (A recording.) The attempt was not successful. 'We are unable to transfer your call. Please call again later.' Argh. Another three minutes. This time the question of the TV was shadowed by the question of the phone system. 'Hi, I called just a moment ago. I need to speak to someone in electronics, but don't transfer me there because their phone doesn't work. Please get me a manager and make sure someone picks up.' 'Of course, ma'am.' And we had the same scenario all over again. Three more minutes. This time I am more explicit. 'I need to speak with a manager, and I need for you not to transfer me, but to put me on hold. I have called several times, and each time I call the call is lost.' So I finally got to talk to someone, and was about a minute into explaining my tale - to which he was sympathetic, at least: 'Oh, dear. That's not good. Yes, let me look this up for you. Do you have your receipt? What was the transaction ID? Let me put you on hold a moment while I look this up'- and there I was, cut off by the same busy recording. The situation was clearly becoming unreal. I called again. At this point I began taking names, so that there would be a clear paper trail should history repeat itself. I started from square one again with some other manager or sales associate, who was likewise sympathetic but with whom my conversation was again cut short by the untimely interruption of the busy recording. At this point I became convinced that it was not just the electronics department with a defective phone. 'Hi. I have been trying to call for the last forty-five minutes-' 'I'm so sorry, ma'am!' (Very friendly, helpful people! All of them! They just have a wretched phone system!) 'That's okay, but I just need to get through to someone. Please page a manager, make sure someone live picks up, and do not try to transfer the call.' No good. I am halfway through explaining my situation when the phone cuts me off. By now I am more than a little pipped. We go through the whole voice mail saga again. Once again I talk to a live person, who asks cheerfully, 'How may I direct your call?' Okay, a normal conversation is obviously not going to happen on this turf. 'Hello. I need you to take my name and number, and have a manager call me back immediately on a cell phone. I have spent the last hour on the phone trying to reach someone, and your phone system has consistently cut me off. Please have a manager call me back immediately.' 'All right ma'am, hold just one moment.' 'No, don't put me on hol....' No use. Busy. I repeat this scenario a few times, until I can get someone to believe me when I say, 'Do not transfer me and do not put me on hold. I need you to take my name and number and have a manager call me back.' Then this paragon of a helpful person reveals to me that it is not a function of the hold, nor of the transfer, but of the fact that the phone line cuts off after three minutes when the call comes in through the switchboard. I am floored. My problem cannot be explained in less than three minutes. 'That is why I need you to take my name and number and have a manager return my call on a valid line.' She transfers me to someone who offers to page a manager for me, and I barely manage to leave my number before the phone cuts off. At this point I conclude to leave well enough alone and hope that someone with whom I left my number will make sure a manager calls me back.
I cannot recall ever experiencing a runaround as bad as this before. And I was glad to note that even though I was frustrated with the situation, I was never inclined to be mad with the people themselves. Michael came in toward the end of some of my conversations, and I even asked him, 'Did you think I sounded mad? Because I wasn't, really, and was trying to achieve the right tone of firmness without irritation.' I've been on the answering end of a phone enough to know that angry callers accomplish nothing by belligerence or impatience, besides making helpless underlings who had nothing to do with the original problem feel miserable.
Perseverance pays off. Later that evening I did indeed get a call back from a manager who apologised handsomely for the confusion and offered an additional 10% off the purchase. I think that was worth an hour of my life.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Remember Pearl Harbor
Also remember Earl Hall's birthday, which falls on a most memorable date. Well do I remember decorating his office four years ago today with Lindsay, Kevin, Nathan, and Megan - no, no, we decorated his office with streamers and balloons and confetti. His first comment on coming in the next morning: 'What a mess.'
Also memorable is Daniel and Rachel's wedding, two years ago today. Were they the first PHC students to get married? Well, to each other, anyway. A winter wedding is such a gamble, but if it comes off - as it did splendidly - it can be so grand. Snow on the ground and sun in the sky and Christmas decorations up all over the dining hall...it was the perfect day for it.
Also memorable is Daniel and Rachel's wedding, two years ago today. Were they the first PHC students to get married? Well, to each other, anyway. A winter wedding is such a gamble, but if it comes off - as it did splendidly - it can be so grand. Snow on the ground and sun in the sky and Christmas decorations up all over the dining hall...it was the perfect day for it.
Correct me if I'm wrong...
...but judging from the previews, the new Tim Allen movie Christmas with the Kranks looks really, really stupid.
My cell phone battery has been running down something awful lately. It seems unable to sustain a charge for any length of time and is constantly running on low battery. Apparently this is because of something called battery memory retention, or something like that, which I knew about in the context of laptop computer batteries because I once sat through a whole meeting on it but which I never thought to apply to cell phone batteries. Basically if you plug in your cell phone before the battery is completely run down, your battery will remember how low it ran and set that level as its new 'dead battery' level. So gradually you lose battery charge. This does not make sense. I don't want my cell phone battery to remember things like this. How about if my car worked like this? I explained this to Michael. 'Say I'm half a tank down, and it's not going to be convenient for me to fuel up for awhile. So if the car worked like my cell phone, if I fill up the car now, I lose half my tank capacity! And every time I decide not to tempt Fate by running as close to empty as possible - poof! That much more tank capacity gone! What this battery memory thing does, in essence, is to punish thinking ahead! By that reasoning, the Foolish Virgins were on the right track after all, not buying extra oil until they had run out of the current batch!'
My cell phone battery has been running down something awful lately. It seems unable to sustain a charge for any length of time and is constantly running on low battery. Apparently this is because of something called battery memory retention, or something like that, which I knew about in the context of laptop computer batteries because I once sat through a whole meeting on it but which I never thought to apply to cell phone batteries. Basically if you plug in your cell phone before the battery is completely run down, your battery will remember how low it ran and set that level as its new 'dead battery' level. So gradually you lose battery charge. This does not make sense. I don't want my cell phone battery to remember things like this. How about if my car worked like this? I explained this to Michael. 'Say I'm half a tank down, and it's not going to be convenient for me to fuel up for awhile. So if the car worked like my cell phone, if I fill up the car now, I lose half my tank capacity! And every time I decide not to tempt Fate by running as close to empty as possible - poof! That much more tank capacity gone! What this battery memory thing does, in essence, is to punish thinking ahead! By that reasoning, the Foolish Virgins were on the right track after all, not buying extra oil until they had run out of the current batch!'
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