If you want to hear God laugh...

Somehow, I always fall into the error of thinking I have more than a tiny amount of control over my life and its direction. I can stay with that train of thought for a very long time too.

And then, yet again, something happens that changes everything and I realize all I did was walk through a door that the Lord God Almighty had set directly in my path.

And now, after two years of applying for job after job after job, most of them very much like the one I now have gotten, I have one I'm loving with people who seem nice, interesting and who don't appear to live on gossip. Time will tell about all that, but oh! is it wonderful to be doing something I really like again, and getting paid to do it.

I have no idea why this time I was offered a job and all those other attempts produced absolutely nothing, but the difference was obvious from the time I walked in for the first interview.

New life and coherent thinking

And now, several years later, I'm considering re-activating this blog. It's been a long time with lots of changes and I'm not sure I actually have much to share that is interesting even to myself. Still, writing helps order thought, helps objectify musings and stream of consciousness. That's a good thing.

Also, I think my life may be moving in a completely different direction--but really, back into something I like for a change. It is amazing what colossal mistakes a mature adult is capable of making even while sincerely trying to make the very best decisions and wisest choices. And it can be very expensive as well, a lot like flushing money down the john for hours and days and weeks on end.

Live. And. Learn.

More second thoughts about our new(ish) car...

Our Hyundai Sonata (exactly as pictured at right) is beginning not to be so much fun. As nice as it is on gas, which certainly is important these days, something minor but important is always going wrong with it. The driver's side seat belt buckle seems to have some congenital flaw that makes the side curtain air bags malfunction. We've had that fixed twice since December. Now this week we will have to get another headlight fixed, also the second time since December. It's getting very inconvenient.

And, for some strange reason, people seem drawn to this car like moths to a flame. They aren't coming 'round to admire it but to collide with it. I often feel like I'm invisible in parking lots and on the road, or at least no one takes my car very seriously as a genuine solid object. People veer into my lane constantly with this car but not with our van, and I've gotten almost paranoid about side streets and drive-ways because of the number of times someone has pulled out in front of me.

In February a woman (definitely not a lady as it turned out) turned around, looked me in the eyes and backed her pick-up truck 25 feet straight into my front bumper. Even after hitting me she continued pushing me backwards so that she could get into a parking spot she had passed up. Then she had the stunning chutzpah to tell the policeman I called that I had rear-ended her! (Fortunately, normal people witnessed the incident.)

But, we might as well not have bothered getting the front end fixed because the crummy plastic bumper has been cracked two more times in parking lots, anonymously of course. I think we'll use superglue before plunking down the $500 deductible for getting it repaired yet again.

I can't decide if it's the color or just the devil trying to kill me.

Fun things overheard

Kat's best friend since fifth grade is Christina, a slender young lady with a thick mop of dark hair who stays with us every other weekend and goes with us on vacations. She called yesterday to tell Kat all about getting her hair dyed platinum blond. While I waited for Kat to pick up on another extention, I heard Christina's wonderful, delightful stepdad in the background as he got his first glimpse of Christina's new look.

"Good heavens, Christina! You look like a giant Q tip!"

Hair-trigger buyer's remorse

At long last, after four relapses and hours and days of online research, comparisons and test drives, we finally have our new car, a 2006 Hyundai Sonata. According to the local Hyundai service manager who looked it over for us, we got an unbelievable deal on a really good car, paying even less than wholesale for it.

Amazingly, after decades of knowing better, it took more than a week of searching and test-driving before Jim and I actually sat down and prayed to find the right car. That morning I found our Sonata. Then, while we were finalizing the loan, our loan officer happily informed us that our new interest rate would drop the car payment about $25 per month because, unbeknownst to us, my-- MY! --credit score was so high. (!!!)

The funny thing is that this did not transpire at all the way I had planned out, with my keen but not obsessive interest of protecting us. My criteria for selecting a car were simple: (1) We had to get it from a legitimate dealer of some kind; (2) it had to have a clear, acceptable Carfax report (clear title, and no wrecks, rentals or fleet vehicles); and (3) Jim and I had to agree about it, without having any of the "catches" that at least one of us normally gets when something's not quite right. Because I had to spend another day or two recuperating from my last (please, God?) relapse, Jim handled getting the hardcopy paper work from the dealer, and then we got the money for it.

Jim went and got it Saturday and we drove to church in it Sunday. Although the exterior is perfect, the cleanliness of the interior and a non-working headlight assembly immediately made me anxious we might have gotten taken. So, while drive to church Sunday I asked Jim to show me the Carfax report after we got home.

"What Carfax report? The dealer only faxed a copy of the bill of sale." (Loud exclamations ensued: "I told you to..." and "You mean to tell me we just bought the one car we didn't see the Carfax on?!!!, and so forth.) Wonderful stuff right before church.

Next morning, successfully holding panic and paranoia at bay, I took our externally beautiful car to the Hyundai dealership. As it turns out, the headlight issue was nothing more than a loose plug and the less-than-appealing interior apparently resulted from an exploding can of Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi. The service manager looked the whole car over, pointed out a few minor maintenance needs, and said that detailing would take care of the interior completely, which I had done immediately. He also opined that the exploding soda probably had been what kept the price far lower than it should have been.

The thing is, if I had seen the Carfax report on this car I never would have given it a second look. Its original owner was Enterprise Car Rentals. But, because I trusted Jim to handle the negotiations and paperwork while I nursed this chest cold, we got a car that is in great shape and has had regular maintenance, for the kind of price family members give each other.

Throughout the almost 20 years of our marriage, every time we've had a need, the Lord has been taking care of us even before we ask for help. It's been entertaining, sometimes even stunning, to see how he uses all the situations in our life-- the pleasant and not-so-pleasant-- to move things into place for our good. It would be good if I could remember this fact of our life, especially on the way to church.

Other sick bed activites

The other main occupation / assignment I’ve had while sick abed has been to find us a new car, ours having been rendered either inoperable or too dangerous to have on the road. Everyday for the past three months Jim would take off for work in our 1987 Camry sans front end, and I would ask him as I kissed him good-bye if we should increase his life insurance today. He would laugh nervously and head on down to work. That is, until he took the car in to have it looked at yet again. Eddie, our long-suffering mechanic, called him at work and said the fix would cost way more than the car was worth, and by the way, to make sure his life insurance was paid up before picking it up and driving it home. So, now it sits at the curb, like an extra closet for all the coffee mugs, jackets and junk Jim can’t remember to bring inside.

Our Mazda MPV needs a new torque converter to make it through another year before the transmission gives up the ghost completely. It’s also ancient and has the most uncomfortable back seats in any van anywhere ever. Nevertheless, we are fixing the van, deep-sixing the Camry and getting another car that, hopefully, will not turn out to be another beater. I’m really tired of beaters at the moment. I don’t mind having one, but it’s not so good having two. You just can’t take off and go out of town without worrying about what could go wrong and how much more it would cost if it happens in Ludowici or Elberton instead of here in town.

We still haven’t found a car and I’m sick of looking for one. It takes hours to get to the real, honest-to-goodness price of a car, only to discover it's significantly higher than what the salesmen were “just sure” it would be. Oh, but wait! We can have the monthly payment exactly where we want it! We just have to be willing to pay on it for six or seven (!) years. On a used car. Silly us.

Keeping occupied while sick

I watched a film yesterday called Two Soldiers, which won an Oscar a few years back for “best short film”. It is based on the William Faulkner story of that title, about honor, strength, and commitment to duty as played out in the strong bond of love between two very backwoods brothers, a 19-year-old and the other just shy of nine. It was set in Mississippi right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

While both boys obviously are well formed and strong of character, the point of the film is to show exactly how strong the younger brother’s character really is and what it enabled him to do out of his great love for his older brother. There is no spectacular heroism or sensational event, but rather is about a young boy’s single-minded focus on doing what he believes he should do, without allowing anything or anyone to become a distraction or an obstacle.

It’s really a story about what love for another can do for a person’s faith and courage to step out into the unknown with nothing more than the goal as a point of reference. It’s only 39 minutes long, without sex, violence or any obscenities, and is definitely worth renting, especially for boys.

I’ve seen quite a few movies over the past couple of weeks, having spent huge chunks of that time in bed trying to get over an upper respiratory annoyance that keeps coming back just as it appears to be leaving. Two trips to the doctor and a course of antibiotics later, and I think it’s finally become bored with me. I sure hope so because a neighbor’s visiting mother is staying with us over Thanksgiving--in the guestroom and bath I’ve been using as a hospital. Thank the Lord for Kat and her abilities with bathrooms and kitchens.