Found out today that Susan, one of my co-workers, is expecting. She’s the last person I would have pegged for that sort of thing, and we’re all still sort of in a state of shock. She seems happy, and her husband, Greg, who spilled the beans (talking about ‘the baby’ on the two-way radio this morning so that half the showroom could hear) is definitely thrilled. But I’m still agape.
Also I just learned that Holland, like much of Europe, has mainly pay toilets in all the public restrooms. Not a happy prospect for a pregnant woman who’s supposed to be drinking a lot of water.
We leave in two days. It hardly seems real. Right now we’re in our desperately-eating-up-all-the-leftovers-in-the-house stage. And – I thought I timed it just right, but it looks like we’re going to run out of milk tonight. Which means that I have to buy another whole gallon of milk, and then we’re going to have to drink it like crazy so it won’t go bad while we’re gone.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Friday, March 11, 2005
Highway robbery
So a few weeks ago it dawned on me that I’m six weeks out from an international trip and my passport is still in my maiden name. Now you would think that after a year and a half of marriage I would have thought about this at least once. And if I’d even thought about it, I could have bought the plane tickets in my maiden name, and all would have been well (the ticket simply has to match the name on the passport). But no. I did not think of it in time. So I called the Department of State to find out what my options were, and there is apparently no fee for an amended passport, and it only takes 6-8 weeks. Big whew! I even told the representative my dates of travel, since it would be cutting it close, and she assured me that the 6-8 week figure is an estimate, and that if I wrote down my dates of travel I should receive the passport back by then. So far so good.
Last week I still hadn’t heard anything, so, getting a little nervous, I called the Department of State to check on the status. ‘Oh,’ the customer service representative said brightly, ‘that’s scheduled to be mailed back to you on the 18th of March.’
‘I am leaving on the 19th of March,’ I explained. ‘I need it sooner than that. I even called several weeks ago to verify that it wouldn’t take the whole eight weeks to get the passport back. They said to write down the dates of travel on my request and it shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Well, our website clearly states that you need to allow up to eight weeks for your passport to be returned to you. So it’s been scheduled for processing and return on the 18th of March. I would be happy to take your credit card over the phone if you want to apply for the expedited service.’
Several things instantly occurred to me:
- I called several weeks ago to verify that I was in plenty of time NOT to have to pay for expedited service.
- March 18th is actually not precisely the right number of business days to allow. Did my writing my date of travel on my request give you the weapon you needed to decide when to schedule my passport return?
- I can understand being busy and all that, but what is so hard about putting a stamp in the back of a passport to amend it? How much of a backlog can you have to make it take that long AND how disorganised can you be to allow that margin of time, if you’re so well organised that you can track it in the system and if I pay you the fee right now, you can immediately locate it, process it, and return it to me, no questions asked?
- Where in the private sector would your respect for your clients be so low that you as good as tell them, ‘Someone in charge set an absolute outer limit on our slovenliness and low standards of customer service, and by gum, we’re going to take every excuse to use that to our advantage!’ ???
- This is highway robbery.
But instead of saying any of it I gave them my credit card number over the phone and politely requested the expedited service. What else could I do? They held all the cards. They had the monopoly. Within three days I received my passport back, duly stamped and updated. Isn’t our federal government a marvel of efficiency and service?
Last week I still hadn’t heard anything, so, getting a little nervous, I called the Department of State to check on the status. ‘Oh,’ the customer service representative said brightly, ‘that’s scheduled to be mailed back to you on the 18th of March.’
‘I am leaving on the 19th of March,’ I explained. ‘I need it sooner than that. I even called several weeks ago to verify that it wouldn’t take the whole eight weeks to get the passport back. They said to write down the dates of travel on my request and it shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Well, our website clearly states that you need to allow up to eight weeks for your passport to be returned to you. So it’s been scheduled for processing and return on the 18th of March. I would be happy to take your credit card over the phone if you want to apply for the expedited service.’
Several things instantly occurred to me:
- I called several weeks ago to verify that I was in plenty of time NOT to have to pay for expedited service.
- March 18th is actually not precisely the right number of business days to allow. Did my writing my date of travel on my request give you the weapon you needed to decide when to schedule my passport return?
- I can understand being busy and all that, but what is so hard about putting a stamp in the back of a passport to amend it? How much of a backlog can you have to make it take that long AND how disorganised can you be to allow that margin of time, if you’re so well organised that you can track it in the system and if I pay you the fee right now, you can immediately locate it, process it, and return it to me, no questions asked?
- Where in the private sector would your respect for your clients be so low that you as good as tell them, ‘Someone in charge set an absolute outer limit on our slovenliness and low standards of customer service, and by gum, we’re going to take every excuse to use that to our advantage!’ ???
- This is highway robbery.
But instead of saying any of it I gave them my credit card number over the phone and politely requested the expedited service. What else could I do? They held all the cards. They had the monopoly. Within three days I received my passport back, duly stamped and updated. Isn’t our federal government a marvel of efficiency and service?
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Serendipity
Yesterday was a Very Long Day which ended on the happiest note possible. I walked through the door late at night, having gone straight from work to help serve Wednesday night dinner at our church, feeling very tired and extremely pregnant, groaning to Michael how we needed to go to bed early and all that. Five minutes later I leapt up from the computer, having just read Amy's wonderful post (http://kevin-amy.blogspot.com/) about free ice cream from Baskin Robbins on Yahoo's birthday. 'Michael! Do we have a Yahoo account? Well, let's get one!' Never mind that it was late and we were full from our Wednesday night dinner. Michael is extremely rational and practical, but he is also the dearest man in the world and very kind about humouring me, so we printed off our coupons, grabbed our coats, and dashed out to the nearest Baskin Robbins to collect our free scoops of ice cream.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
It's snowing!
I stepped out of my Dr.'s office this morning to discover small white flakes flurrying around me. Of course it's not sticking, but it's cold and wintry-looking, the skies are grey, and it's very exciting for the first day of March!
Speaking of doctor visits, Baby is developing into quite the acrobat here. No more mere flutters or even kicks. Last week I was sitting at my desk holding a piece of paper in one hand and comparing it against the master copy on the screen, when I noticed that the paper kept moving. Were my hands trembling? No. I was resting my forearm on my abdomen, and my entire hand was actually shaking with every kick. Baby's gotten into this new 'rebound' thing, when I'll feel a strong kick on one side, and then almost instantaneously a strong thump on the other side. Baby is literally bouncing off the walls.
Last night we watched The Dish, a very good movie based on a true story involving the landing on the moon. It's set in Australia, so it's fun to watch just for the accents. The characters are likeable (except for one annoying brat), and there is absolutely nothing objectionable except some bad language. Very wholesome, amusing, and interesting. I called Michael this morning on my way in and said, 'Carrier pigeons!' and we both burst out laughing.
I think we have something happening every single evening before we leave for Holland. Two and a half weeks and counting!
Speaking of doctor visits, Baby is developing into quite the acrobat here. No more mere flutters or even kicks. Last week I was sitting at my desk holding a piece of paper in one hand and comparing it against the master copy on the screen, when I noticed that the paper kept moving. Were my hands trembling? No. I was resting my forearm on my abdomen, and my entire hand was actually shaking with every kick. Baby's gotten into this new 'rebound' thing, when I'll feel a strong kick on one side, and then almost instantaneously a strong thump on the other side. Baby is literally bouncing off the walls.
Last night we watched The Dish, a very good movie based on a true story involving the landing on the moon. It's set in Australia, so it's fun to watch just for the accents. The characters are likeable (except for one annoying brat), and there is absolutely nothing objectionable except some bad language. Very wholesome, amusing, and interesting. I called Michael this morning on my way in and said, 'Carrier pigeons!' and we both burst out laughing.
I think we have something happening every single evening before we leave for Holland. Two and a half weeks and counting!
Monday, February 28, 2005
Overheard last week
Michael (coming home): Hi!
Me: Welcome home!
(Attempt to hug)
Michael: You know, it feels like someone has come between us…I just don’t feel as close to you as I once did…
Me: Welcome home!
(Attempt to hug)
Michael: You know, it feels like someone has come between us…I just don’t feel as close to you as I once did…
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Hailstones and coals of fire
Life has gotten so busy that I am keeping a calendar for the first time in my life. No longer can I depend on keeping it all in my head, and so I write things down, and good thing, too. It leaves a distinct paper trail of exactly how busy we are.
Last weekend my dad and three brothers drove down to help install a central vacuum system in our house. What ease and convenience! Daddy has always installed one wherever we lived, so I’ve grown up with one. Being without and dealing with clunky upright models for the past two years has been quite the rude awakening. Some people, when I tell them about it, have never even heard of such a concept, and others tell me horror stories of people who tried vacuuming out the still-smouldering ashes from their fireplace and burned the house down. I think the worst I ever did was to stick the nozzle in the toilet (when I was very young) and watch the water get sucked away.
Last night we had a terrific hailstorm. It was loud and almost frightening, and I was greatly relieved not to lose electricity at all. Michael made a bowl of truly excellent guacamole, which we devoured entirely, and we watched Fried Green Tomatoes. I was disappointed that I was too tired to think it through thoroughly, because it begged further reflection. It reminded me strongly of Gone with the Wind, with the parallel story line of an unlikely friendship between two women of very different personalities, one extremely strong and rebellious and the other meek and good-spirited. There was the same sense of desolation and poverty, of sadness for an era gone by and a frustration at the sense of social injustice. Then there’s the question of why two wrong don’t make a right, and whether it’s right to threaten a man who’s beating his wife. Was it right for her to leave him? Why was there no legal protection for her? Why was the jury so prejudiced against her, insisting that no good Christian woman would leave her husband? Why was the law so corrupt as to prevent innocent bystanders from prosecuting ruthless vandals who attacked their private property? If I had lived in that era, what could I have done to fight against the wrongs of the system?
Last weekend my dad and three brothers drove down to help install a central vacuum system in our house. What ease and convenience! Daddy has always installed one wherever we lived, so I’ve grown up with one. Being without and dealing with clunky upright models for the past two years has been quite the rude awakening. Some people, when I tell them about it, have never even heard of such a concept, and others tell me horror stories of people who tried vacuuming out the still-smouldering ashes from their fireplace and burned the house down. I think the worst I ever did was to stick the nozzle in the toilet (when I was very young) and watch the water get sucked away.
Last night we had a terrific hailstorm. It was loud and almost frightening, and I was greatly relieved not to lose electricity at all. Michael made a bowl of truly excellent guacamole, which we devoured entirely, and we watched Fried Green Tomatoes. I was disappointed that I was too tired to think it through thoroughly, because it begged further reflection. It reminded me strongly of Gone with the Wind, with the parallel story line of an unlikely friendship between two women of very different personalities, one extremely strong and rebellious and the other meek and good-spirited. There was the same sense of desolation and poverty, of sadness for an era gone by and a frustration at the sense of social injustice. Then there’s the question of why two wrong don’t make a right, and whether it’s right to threaten a man who’s beating his wife. Was it right for her to leave him? Why was there no legal protection for her? Why was the jury so prejudiced against her, insisting that no good Christian woman would leave her husband? Why was the law so corrupt as to prevent innocent bystanders from prosecuting ruthless vandals who attacked their private property? If I had lived in that era, what could I have done to fight against the wrongs of the system?
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Happy Birthday Oregon!
Which, of course, is the real significant thing about February 14th.
Three years ago yesterday we were in the throes of the 2002 Winter Olympics. I went to a girls’ party, where we watched a cute musical, ate lots of food, painted our nails, and each parted with a yellow rose (for friendship). The next morning there was a flurry of She Said Yes emails and gem studies, and Amy recounted how at dinner SHE was reminiscing about last year, when SHE went out with the girls, watched chick flicks, and painted her nails, whereas here she was, one year later, getting engaged.
Two years ago yesterday I was in Oregon for a wedding and spent the whole evening online exchanging emails with Michael, who observed, ‘Midnight on a Friday night all alone in my apartment reading Emma and writing emails and not feeling a bit depressed about Valentine’s Day? Must be in love.’ There were a dozen roses waiting for me when I got back to Virginia, which was quite the comeuppance for someone who had expressed her sentiments on fresh flowers rather explicitly in years past:
Don’t send me no flowers;
The effect will fall flat.
Flowers will die in a couple of hours.
What lame allegory is that?
One year ago yesterday we went out to dinner with several of our couple friends and had a lovely evening.
Yesterday two dozen NON-red roses were delivered to me at work. It brightened my day and cheered my olfactory senses. We cooked an elegant dinner and drank sparkling cider.
Life just gets better and better, I decided.
Three years ago yesterday we were in the throes of the 2002 Winter Olympics. I went to a girls’ party, where we watched a cute musical, ate lots of food, painted our nails, and each parted with a yellow rose (for friendship). The next morning there was a flurry of She Said Yes emails and gem studies, and Amy recounted how at dinner SHE was reminiscing about last year, when SHE went out with the girls, watched chick flicks, and painted her nails, whereas here she was, one year later, getting engaged.
Two years ago yesterday I was in Oregon for a wedding and spent the whole evening online exchanging emails with Michael, who observed, ‘Midnight on a Friday night all alone in my apartment reading Emma and writing emails and not feeling a bit depressed about Valentine’s Day? Must be in love.’ There were a dozen roses waiting for me when I got back to Virginia, which was quite the comeuppance for someone who had expressed her sentiments on fresh flowers rather explicitly in years past:
Don’t send me no flowers;
The effect will fall flat.
Flowers will die in a couple of hours.
What lame allegory is that?
One year ago yesterday we went out to dinner with several of our couple friends and had a lovely evening.
Yesterday two dozen NON-red roses were delivered to me at work. It brightened my day and cheered my olfactory senses. We cooked an elegant dinner and drank sparkling cider.
Life just gets better and better, I decided.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
A question of great doctrinal import
(…as pronounced by Jane to Mr. Collins in the A&E version of P&P.)
I’ve just begun meeting with a small group of girls on a weekly basis. It’s a mentoring/discipleship program sponsored by our church, and we’re doing a Bible study called Undercover Princess, written by one of the youth interns at the church. I’m very excited to be doing something like this; it’s my first such involvement since AWANA, and I really missed the challenge and the discipline.
Last night was our second meeting, and I think our group is really going to click. There are four girls, all fourteen, and we had such an interesting conversation. The lesson was on getting to know you: WHY is it so important to build a relationship with God? Because we only trust that which we know. And then the lesson took us on a whirlwind tour of the Old Testament sacrifice system, in order to set the stage for WHY the sacrifice of Christ on the cross was such a necessity and what a burden it was that He freed us from.
When the girls came, I told them we were going to start off with a game, and forthwith played a few rounds of Tri-Bond to set the stage. Then, without further explanation, I directed their attention to three items I’d set out on the table: a tube of concealer, a tin of tic-tacs, and a picture of an Old Testament sacrifice. I was so delighted at the end of the evening when one of the girls suddenly got it!
Anyway, at one point the topic of Christ’s location after His death came up, and we wondered where He was during that three-day interval. Somehow all of us had had the impression that He spent those days in Hell, which was what made it all so awful: the separation from God the Father, the reason why He so wished to have the cup pass from Him, etc. We pulled out our Bibles to find a verse to support this theory, and couldn’t exactly nail it down, but all of us had the distinct impression of being taught that Christ spent the time between His death and resurrection in Hell. Then followed the logical question: how could He promise the thief on the cross that that very day he would be with Him in Paradise? If He wasn’t going to be there for three more days Himself? Hmmm. Very puzzling.
I’ve just begun meeting with a small group of girls on a weekly basis. It’s a mentoring/discipleship program sponsored by our church, and we’re doing a Bible study called Undercover Princess, written by one of the youth interns at the church. I’m very excited to be doing something like this; it’s my first such involvement since AWANA, and I really missed the challenge and the discipline.
Last night was our second meeting, and I think our group is really going to click. There are four girls, all fourteen, and we had such an interesting conversation. The lesson was on getting to know you: WHY is it so important to build a relationship with God? Because we only trust that which we know. And then the lesson took us on a whirlwind tour of the Old Testament sacrifice system, in order to set the stage for WHY the sacrifice of Christ on the cross was such a necessity and what a burden it was that He freed us from.
When the girls came, I told them we were going to start off with a game, and forthwith played a few rounds of Tri-Bond to set the stage. Then, without further explanation, I directed their attention to three items I’d set out on the table: a tube of concealer, a tin of tic-tacs, and a picture of an Old Testament sacrifice. I was so delighted at the end of the evening when one of the girls suddenly got it!
Anyway, at one point the topic of Christ’s location after His death came up, and we wondered where He was during that three-day interval. Somehow all of us had had the impression that He spent those days in Hell, which was what made it all so awful: the separation from God the Father, the reason why He so wished to have the cup pass from Him, etc. We pulled out our Bibles to find a verse to support this theory, and couldn’t exactly nail it down, but all of us had the distinct impression of being taught that Christ spent the time between His death and resurrection in Hell. Then followed the logical question: how could He promise the thief on the cross that that very day he would be with Him in Paradise? If He wasn’t going to be there for three more days Himself? Hmmm. Very puzzling.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Black Magic
At long last we have our 'new' car. We picked it up last week, after nearly a week of Michael dropping me off at work each morning and me hitching a ride home each night because the rental car had to be returned the previous Friday. (Long rabbit trail potential here: did you ever stop to consider how much better off we are than our parents? In so many ways, we are standing on their shoulders. I was all of fifteen years old, I think, before we got a second vehicle in my family, and here Michael and I take our independent forms of transport SO for granted! And cell phones, and computers, not to mention size of starter houses...anyway, a good thought for a spare five minutes.)
The good news is that it is black, sleek, about the same size as Black Rider, gets good gas mileage, and has a CD player. The bad news is that I had to spend an extra $20 at the tag office to buy a WHOLE NEW TAG, even though I had the old license plate and completely unexpired registration in my hand ready to transfer over, because the car dealer had typed up the title with both our names on it, Michael's coming first, whereas on the old registration, my name had come first, since it was my car first and we added Michael's name to it after we got married. So, in other words, I had to pay for a whole new license plate and registration, instead of a mere title transfer, because of a minor bureaucratic hang-up. Whatever. After I'd fought traffic on my lunch hour and waited over fifteen minutes in line, trying to look as pathetically pregnant as possible in the feeble hope that some good soul would volunteer to give me his place in line ('You look pregnant, Ma'am. Here, take my place and step right up to the counter.' Yeah, right!), and discovered what my options were, I decided to fork over the extra $20 instead of trying to track down the dealer, get him to print out a whole new title, sign all the forms and paperwork all over again, and come back another day. It will only take me another fifteen years or so of picking up pennies in parking lots to make it up.
Anyway the new license plate was your standard-issue plate, because pretty plates and vanity plates cost far more than they do in Virginia, and at first I was mildly puzzled by the unassuming AGC. Suddenly on Saturday it hit me. We were out shopping, and had driven separately to drop off Michael's truck for tire rotation, and as I walked up to my car it dawned on me: Agincourt! This was so marvelous that I just about called Michael on my cell phone to tell him about it, but I decided against it since, after all, it was a proper name. Then Michael himself came up with the brilliant, elegant, devastatingly simple tour de force: Magic. Aha! Of course! How could it have escaped us? What better word can you make with the letters AGC?
It does put us in a bit of a dilemma, though. The obvious conclusion, judging from the colour and all, is Black Magic. I'm not really sure I want to name my car that, though. How else does one propose to top Black Rider, though? I've already decided emphatically against Black Rider II or anything of that sort.
I sit in solemn silence simmering stew on the stove while my husband works late. And it's only Monday already!
The good news is that it is black, sleek, about the same size as Black Rider, gets good gas mileage, and has a CD player. The bad news is that I had to spend an extra $20 at the tag office to buy a WHOLE NEW TAG, even though I had the old license plate and completely unexpired registration in my hand ready to transfer over, because the car dealer had typed up the title with both our names on it, Michael's coming first, whereas on the old registration, my name had come first, since it was my car first and we added Michael's name to it after we got married. So, in other words, I had to pay for a whole new license plate and registration, instead of a mere title transfer, because of a minor bureaucratic hang-up. Whatever. After I'd fought traffic on my lunch hour and waited over fifteen minutes in line, trying to look as pathetically pregnant as possible in the feeble hope that some good soul would volunteer to give me his place in line ('You look pregnant, Ma'am. Here, take my place and step right up to the counter.' Yeah, right!), and discovered what my options were, I decided to fork over the extra $20 instead of trying to track down the dealer, get him to print out a whole new title, sign all the forms and paperwork all over again, and come back another day. It will only take me another fifteen years or so of picking up pennies in parking lots to make it up.
Anyway the new license plate was your standard-issue plate, because pretty plates and vanity plates cost far more than they do in Virginia, and at first I was mildly puzzled by the unassuming AGC. Suddenly on Saturday it hit me. We were out shopping, and had driven separately to drop off Michael's truck for tire rotation, and as I walked up to my car it dawned on me: Agincourt! This was so marvelous that I just about called Michael on my cell phone to tell him about it, but I decided against it since, after all, it was a proper name. Then Michael himself came up with the brilliant, elegant, devastatingly simple tour de force: Magic. Aha! Of course! How could it have escaped us? What better word can you make with the letters AGC?
It does put us in a bit of a dilemma, though. The obvious conclusion, judging from the colour and all, is Black Magic. I'm not really sure I want to name my car that, though. How else does one propose to top Black Rider, though? I've already decided emphatically against Black Rider II or anything of that sort.
I sit in solemn silence simmering stew on the stove while my husband works late. And it's only Monday already!
Introducing Baby
…who for the present remains invisible but clearly noticeable.
October 2004
This is the last time I wore my silk party dress in quite some time, the one I traditionally wear each year to a wedding and for my birthday. It was long after this picture was taken that I began to realise that I wouldn’t be wearing this dress for THIS birthday, at any rate.
October 2004
Our first in the ‘cute couple pregnancy’ series, which we decided to start taking once a week to document progress. We’ve missed, well, a few weeks here and there. Sara ably observes the halo above Michael’s head, aptly illustrating his cherubic nature in posting the pictures for me as well as his general all-round….thing-ness (as Bertie would say).
November 2004
At this point there was really nothing to see on the front front yet (ha, ha!), but there was a whole series of pictures I cut from the roster circa this month because I looked so second-trimester from the pose.
November 2004
The week after Thanksgiving.
January 2005
Second week in January. This wasn’t part of our scheduled Sunday series, but after a birthday party when everyone remarked how not-pregnant I looked, I had to get a picture of the I-will-never-look-this-good-five-months-pregnant-again me. Michael is very forbearing. Does he think I am vain because I beg him to whip out the camera every time someone tells me I look nice? Nooo, he whips out the camera and tells me I look nice.
January 2005
Third week in January. And after this point, Baby went on a big growth spurt. I am officially into maternity clothes now.
October 2004
This is the last time I wore my silk party dress in quite some time, the one I traditionally wear each year to a wedding and for my birthday. It was long after this picture was taken that I began to realise that I wouldn’t be wearing this dress for THIS birthday, at any rate.
October 2004
Our first in the ‘cute couple pregnancy’ series, which we decided to start taking once a week to document progress. We’ve missed, well, a few weeks here and there. Sara ably observes the halo above Michael’s head, aptly illustrating his cherubic nature in posting the pictures for me as well as his general all-round….thing-ness (as Bertie would say).
November 2004
At this point there was really nothing to see on the front front yet (ha, ha!), but there was a whole series of pictures I cut from the roster circa this month because I looked so second-trimester from the pose.
November 2004
The week after Thanksgiving.
January 2005
Second week in January. This wasn’t part of our scheduled Sunday series, but after a birthday party when everyone remarked how not-pregnant I looked, I had to get a picture of the I-will-never-look-this-good-five-months-pregnant-again me. Michael is very forbearing. Does he think I am vain because I beg him to whip out the camera every time someone tells me I look nice? Nooo, he whips out the camera and tells me I look nice.
January 2005
Third week in January. And after this point, Baby went on a big growth spurt. I am officially into maternity clothes now.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Overheard late one night
Michael: I love you. Good night.
Me: I love you too. Good night.
Michael: I love you more, ’cuz I’m bigger!
Me: I love you more, ’cuz there are two of me.
Michael: No, there aren’t.
Me (sleepily): Oh. Well, anyway, we both love you.
Me: I love you too. Good night.
Michael: I love you more, ’cuz I’m bigger!
Me: I love you more, ’cuz there are two of me.
Michael: No, there aren’t.
Me (sleepily): Oh. Well, anyway, we both love you.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Let it snow
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!’
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!’
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.)
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