Amy Grant

Who doesn't love the Christmas season?  Everyone seems happier, there are parties and presents, and music -- the lovely, lovely Christmas carols -- fills the air with love and joy.  I smile and start humming just thinking about them. And, it turns out, I thought about them a lot more than usual this year.  

Last fall my sister gave me an armload of Christmas CD's.  She's totally into technology and, apparently, CD's are relics from a bygone era and I'm just hopelessly behind -- I have an entire closet shelf of cassettes and a chest-of-drawers full of VHS tapes too, so maybe she's justified in thinking that.  

I decided to listen to the CD's in my car and popped the first one in.  It was "A Christmas Album" by Amy Grant.  Perfect title, if you ask me.  I don't drive very often and when I do it's usually not far so it took me a while to hear all the songs.  About half the carols were contemporary which meant I couldn't sing along, but Amy's gorgeous voice is easy to listen to so I didn't mind too much.  

I just realized that this album is from 1983.  We had CD's back then?

In the blink of an eye, it was March and the Christmas CD was still playing. None of the songs seemed "new" to me any more and so to entertain myself, I would try to harmonize.  It was probably best that I was alone in the car. 

The great thing about Christmas music is that it's uplifting.  There aren't any negative lyrics and the tunes are happy and catchy.  Around May, it did occur to me that I was still listening to Christmas carols, but by then I knew every single word to every single song and I liked them all.  Plus it was the only CD in the car -- or at least that was my story when anybody asked.  

And then it was July. Christmas in July is a legitimate thing, right?  By August though, I started turning the music off whenever anybody was going to ride with me.  I didn't want them to think I was weird. 

When September came, I officially decided to listen to only this particular Amy Grant CD for the entire year.  It was about then that track nine started stuttering and skipping.  Instead of ejecting the disc and cleaning it, I just fast forward whenever it gets to that part of the album.  Problem solved! 

My favorite carol is entitled, "Love has Come."  The music is beautiful and the lyrics are haunting.  I often listen to it several times in a row … Or, sometimes, for the entire car ride, no matter how long it may be...  The song always puts me in a good mood.  

While the car was running this morning, I rolled down my window to talk to a neighbor.  "Oh, no!" she said.  "Not Christmas music already!"

Now you and I both know that it's not already, it's still, but after I heard that I realized I'm almost home free.  November starts at the end of this week and then every store in America will be playing Christmas carols non-stop.  

As soon as that happens, I won't be weird, I'll just be quirky.

www.StillSwimmingUpstream.com

Cruise Control

I took friends to the airport and drove Jerry's space car with all the bells and whistles because it has easier access for luggage.  I got lost once (no surprises there), turned around and since I was then coming from the opposite direction, I failed to recognize the turn-off, so I drove right past it.  (That could've happened to anyone.)  In fairness to me, my guests were extremely entertaining so I was distracted.  Eventually they arrived at the terminal with plenty of time to wander around.  I think we were all relieved!

I decided to take the scenic route home, the same choice I always make.  I'm well acquainted with all the turns and there is little traffic.  Win, win. The ride in Jerry's car is so smooth it feels like you aren't moving at all so the only potential dark cloud was that I might end up accidentally speeding.  In our family circle I'm well known for driving prudently (think little old lady) and a ticket would lead to endless merriment and years of teasing at my expense.  I could do without that.  

Jerry's car has cruise control, so it seemed prudent to use it.  That way, I could sail right by any speed traps without concern.  The controls are on the front of the steering wheel and I fumbled around and pressed various buttons but nothing happened.  Since I was already driving, I really couldn't fiddle with them too much so I let the whole idea go and drove on.

A couple of minutes later, I glanced at the speedometer and was horrified to see that I was going over 70!  Of course I slowed right down to 45.  It's not in my nature to speed but it seemed like I was barely moving.  "That's how great the ride in Jerry's car is," I thought.  

It happened again.  This time, I was only going sixty though.  Still, 60 in a 45 would be a major ticket.  I have other ways I'd prefer to spend our money so  I slowed back down.  A short time later, I chanced to look in my rear view mirror and, much to my astonishment, there was a line of cars behind me. One brave soul passed me - even though he had to cross double yellow lines to do it.  The lady in the passenger seat seem to glare at me as they went by.  

This is one of my pet peeves, that people seem angry at those of us who obey the speed limit laws.  I was mulling over this phenomena when I realized, yet again, that I was going 55 in a 45 zone.  "It's a speed limit!  That means don't exceed it!" I chastised myself.  It's really so unlike me to go too fast. Normally I just stay a couple of miles under what the law allows and even then I feel guilty if I see a policeman driving behind me.

The speed limit was changing to 35.  To be safe I slowed down to 30.  It was amazing to me how my speed just kept creeping up.  This is just not a problem that I usually have.  I decided to keep closer tabs on it.  The line behind me kept growing and that was upsetting, too.  

The next speed check, I noticed it.  Right beside the digital numbers was a "km/h" display written in red. Underneath that it said (in letters so tiny that it would take an elementary school child to read), "Press to change to mph". When I pressed there, my speed magically changed from 34 km/h to 21 mph.

Wow.  When I had been driving 70 km/h, I was actually driving 44 mph - and when I slowed down to 30, I was going 19!   

No wonder people were glaring at me.

www.StillSwimmingUpstream.com

While Walking

Although being a "one car family" sounds good on paper, in reality it's no fun.  Jer's car is in the shop getting fixed from the Big Little Crash of 2012.  It was supposed to be finished on Wednesday so we thought if we gave it a couple of extra days, we'd be safe in picking it up this morning.  (Auto body repair men work on their own timetables and they are incomprehensible to laymen.)  Bright and early this morning we arrived.  It will be ready after noon,  they said.

Jer usually gets to work way, way before 'bright and early' and he was in a rush to get going.  I told him to drop me off past the major intersection and I'd walk home.  Truth be told, if I would have had the presence of mind to grab my cell phone on the way out the door, I might have called a friend to hitch a ride home but walking is my favorite form of exercise and it was a good day for it. I arrived at our driveway an hour and a half later.  Whew!

When I was little, our family had only one car.  When Mom wanted or needed to use it, she simply took Dad to work.  Most days the car sat in the parking lot of the company where Dad worked and we walked wherever we wanted to go.  If an emergency arose, some Mom in the neighborhood who had a car that day would drive us to the doctor's office or to the hospital, depending upon the amount of blood involved.  If Mom had the car and somebody else's kid ran the lawnmower over their foot (yes, really) Mom would return the favor.

We don't live in a village, town or city; we live in a residential community.  This means that we don't have any businesses nearby.   None. No grocery store, no post office, no library.  To get groceries, I'd have to walk almost five-and-a-half hours round trip and I wouldn't want to be carrying much.  Becoming a single-car family lost its charm roughly at the same time I realized this.

I met a lot of dogs on my walk today though.  One eleven-month-old beauty with red fur, aptly named Reba, really seemed to like me.  While she was enjoying my personal space, her owner told me that they were going to start a twelve-step program next week.

Not Reba but still a cute dog.

"Isn't that courageous," I thought, "to tell a perfect stranger about your alcohol abuse issues?"  (They do say that to admit you have a problem is the first step toward recovery.)  While I was forming a sensitive response to this admission, he clarified, "Reba will make an excellent nursing home dog."

How wonderful that the world contains people (and dogs) that are willing to share their love and their time with others.  While I'm not willing to abandon my vehicle quite yet, I enjoyed meeting Reba today and I am pretty sure the folks in the nursing home are going to feel the same way. 

A story of skill, not stupidity

Those of you who know my husband Jerry know he’s gifted in so many ways.  He rarely loses things, can fix anything and if he’s driven anywhere once, he can find it again without the aid of a map or GPS. 

Yesterday after we finished kayaking and he’d carried both kayaks to the car alone, hoisted them onto the roof and securely strapped them on, he hopped into the car with me and he turned the key in the ignition but nothing happened.  He tried repeatedly but the car did not start.  I asked if we needed a jump but he said no, the electrical system was working. 


It is at this point that I would have had a meltdown.  Not Jerry.  Nope!  He didn’t panic, start crying or even shout swearwords, he just looked at his owner’s manual, pressed a button on the floor in front of my feet and off we went.  By the time we’d arrived home, he’d mulled over why the car refused to start, realized he’d gotten his key wet, used his air compressor to dry it and, voila!  Problem solved. 


This story isn’t about yesterday though, it’s about today.  This morning we had to take our niece to the airport and be there before six.  Being night owls by nature, we got everything ready last night.  We even printed out her boarding passes and took her through a dry-run of security.  When we were finished, we knew she could deal with removing her computer from her stuffed suitcase, putting her baggie of liquids in the bin, taking off her shoes and so on and so on, amen.  We got into our car at twenty to six and were off.
 

Traffic was light and we arrived without issues.  Usually we drop our departing guests off at the front, kiss them goodbye and expect them to fend for themselves once they walk through the airport doors.  This time however, because our niece is the tender age of thirteen, Jer decided to park in the parking garage so we could walk her in and see her safely through security.

As we approached the garage entrance, we saw the customary sign that says “Clearance 7 feet 4 inches.”  We didn’t think a thing about it until we felt a thunk and heard this loud crunching noise.  Jer, the most alert one of the three of us, instantly realized his error.  The kayaks were still on top of the car and they’d started the height bar swinging above us.  They began scraping as we moved toward the garage.  I panicked.  Thank GOD I wasn’t driving by myself because who knows what I might have done?  We were clearly committed to driving forward and forward only.  Although there was no one behind us, there was no exit lane and nowhere to turn around.  Our car was situated in what amounted to a single-lane driveway with concrete walls on either side.  I panicked again!  I jumped out of the car, grabbed the niece and we took off through the parking garage.  Jerry was left to his own devices.   

 

The girls had our own little adventure.  I have zero sense of direction and when we got to the door marked “exit” and went through it, we were in a stairwell where we could only go down.  I was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland.  Intuitively, I knew that going down was not a good choice yet there we were, so down we went. 

Now in the lower level of the parking structure, we aimed for another exit while I tried to keep my cool so as not to upset the traveler.  She had enough on her mind; we didn’t need to add fear to the mix.  We walked across the garage and went into another stairwell and were able to walk up four flights of stairs to an exit above.  Then it was only a matter of figuring out where the airport access was and walking into the terminal, which we did without incident.

 

By the time we got inside, Jerry was already there.  Apparently I married the star student of the 1969 Mt. Healthy High School Driver’s Ed class!  He had driven backwards through traffic until he got out of the lane to enter the parking garage, was then able to turn the car around and park it in an open lot.

 

He said it was a story in skill, not stupidity.  I’m sort of sorry I missed seeing that exhibition of driving prowess but at the same time no policemen did either, and for that I’m quite delighted.

Lunch at home

Yesterday the rain gently fell. It's been a long time since this has happened here. The earth was parched and fissures large enough for a toddler to drive his big wheels into began appearing. The rain was definitely welcome. At least before lunch.

My husband is the kind of guy who doesn't brown bag his lunch. I'm not saying he won't, just that we've been married over thirty years and he hasn't yet. This last move from OH to SC, we bought a house so close to his office that if traffic is light and he eats fast, he can come home for lunch. Not only is this a cost effective measure (as I see it), it has the added benefit of better nutrition as well and no one is arguing about that. It's just a fact and we both know it. It's pleasant too and kind of breaks up the day for us both. He's not able to come home every day, but he does when he can and yesterday he did.

I have no idea what we ate, which seems odd since it was only twenty-four hours ago. I do know we were eating watermelon when we heard the first loud boom. Boom! Bang, bang, bang. A limb from a tree fell, not remarkable in itself since we live in the woods, but worthy of note because it fell on Jerry's car. We didn't see this but we heard it and knew at a glance what had happened. The limb wasn't large - the diameter was about the size of a lady's forearm but it did a lot of damage. The point of impact is unclear, but the roof is smashed in, the windshield shattered and the hood and the side panel over the wheel are all dented pretty badly.

A tree limb altered how I spent my afternoon. Instead of doing laundry, I called my insurance agent, filed an insurance claim, talked with an auto glass repair shop, conversed with our assigned insurance adjuster and made an appointment with an auto body shop. I was assured that this claim wouldn't significantly raise our insurance rates, since we haven't had other claims with this company and they consider this an act of God. I prefer to think of it as an act of Mother Nature rather than God. In my mind, God isn't spending lunch hour throwing branches at cars, but, of course, I cannot be certain.

Today (instead of doing the laundry) I spent the morning at the auto body shop getting an estimate. This shop has insurance people on staff, so my claim was expedited and I now know that the repairs for the vehicle will run $2,005.00, which means the insurance company and the Zimmermans will split the bill almost 50/50 because we have $1,000.00 deductible.

While the gentleman was appraising the damage, he point out to me that the car had sustained significant hail damage somewhere along the way as well. There are tiny dings everywhere. He said that these can be fixed using some paintless procedure but that it will probably cost in excess of $2,500.00 and it is a separate claim, thus necessitating another $1,000.00 expenditure on our part and, of course, if we file another claim so soon, it will raise our premiums.

I'm not quite sure what I am going to do with this new-found knowledge on hail damage to my husband's car. He hasn't noticed these dings himself yet. Jer's pretty fond of his vehicles and I think if he knew, it might drive him nuts. Nuts!! That reminds me! The adjuster said the damage might be caused by nuts falling out of trees and bouncing off the car. If that's the case and we get the car fixed before all the nuts fall....

How many lunches could a person buy for two thousand dollars? Maybe it's not so cost effective to serve lunch here at home after all.