What words could possibly be adequate to express gratitude for the sacrifice of those who died that I might enjoy the freedoms of my life in this beautiful country? I am sure I do not have the skill to sculpt mere nouns and verbs and adjectives into art worthy of my debt to the men and women who have given their lives in service to their country, nor do I know what I could possibly say to those families who have exchanged a blue star for a gold one. All I can do is remember, and promise that someday, should we be blessed with children, that I will teach them to remember, as well.
Month: May 2010
Glass Holes
The glass guy came yesterday and replaced my window. Hooray, my car no longer has a gaping hole in it! Boo, we’re out a couple hundred bucks to finance some vandalizing schmuck’s idea of a smashingly fun night out. The auto glass repairman was a polite professional who was amusingly delighted with the bottle of Coke we gave him, although I must say that I hope we do not have cause to see him again in the future.
Now we need to figure out if there is a workable way to amend our car-parking situation so my car is off the street. We have two cars and a one-car garage, which complicates things somewhat. My husband, being a car enthusiast who loves his vehicle, parks in the garage with my blessing; we would be much more upset if something happened to his car than to mine. I like my car and all, but it’s pretty much just an appliance to me, whereas my husband’s car is the sum of a lot of work and TLC over the past five years.
I definitely don’t want to start playing the car shuffle game that would need to ensue if I started parking in the driveway. It is possible, just barely, for me to pull off to one side of the driveway and leave enough space for my husband to get in and out of the garage, but that leaves my car in the grass. That would be less than ideal, especially since the latest issue of the neighborhood newsletter included a reminder that residents are not to park on unpaved areas of their property. Is our only option to pave a parking area off to one side of the driveway?
Ugh. I’d much rather be able to feel I can safely park my car in front of my own damn house without its smooth, newly replaced window glass shining like a beacon for bored teenagers inclined towards mischief.
Share this:
Can We Trade Places?
I’ve been mentally composing a letter that will never find its way to its intended recipient:
Dear Vandal(s),
While I would hesitate to advocate violence in response to your crime, I must admit that I would find it difficult to be unhappy if someone were to smash in your teeth the way you smashed in my car window. The poetic justice of that particular revenge fantasy appeals to me on a deep and somewhat disturbing level.
Regards,
The owner of a glass-strewn and extremely well-ventilated vehicle
So, remember that relaxing Shabbat I was planning to enjoy? The one where I was going to unplug from the world for a time and enjoy a little spiritual renewal? It was not to be.
My day had been going quite well until my doorbell rang; I answered it to find my neighbor on my porch asking me if I’d seen my car. Thinking she was referring to the flat tire we hadn’t yet gotten around to fixing, I said yes, thank you for pointing it out, we’re planning on getting all new tires anyway.
“No, not that! Your window, did you see your window?”
I had not. Nor was I, apparently, destined ever to see it in one piece again, for the glass on the driver’s side had been transformed from a functional car window into a sparkly collection of glass shards, a swath of glitter bestowed liberally on the street in front of my house and the interior of my poor car.
Most of you reading this are probably familiar with the Military Spouse Corollary to Murphy’s Law: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong while your other half is out of town.” My husband had already been away for most of the week, and at the moment my day of rest was so rudely interrupted, was living it up at an airshow and having all manner of amazing aerial experiences of which I would have been extremely envious at the best of times.
Get this: while I was making a police report and trying to sweep up a million shards of broken glass without cutting myself and taping a garbage bag over the gaping hole in my car, that lucky so-and-so I married was getting to ride in “Fat Albert.” You know, the C-130 in the Blue Angels?
The Blue freakin’ Angels, y’all.
I’m so jealous I could just spit.
I love sharing so many interests with my husband, especially a fascination with aviation. Sometimes, though — if I’m being totally honest — it is hard to see him get to do things that I would love to do and experience things about which I can only dream. And when I hear about something like that when I am stuck at home having a horrendous day… well.
Please don’t misunderstand: I truly am excited for him when he is presented with these incredible opportunities, and I would never want him not to take advantage of such a chance just because I would envy him. I love hearing the joy in his voice when he shares this or that story with me.
Yesterday, though? You’re damn right I would have traded places with him. When I told him as much, he understood (of course he did; he’s a pretty wonderful guy like that). We agreed that it would be only fair if next time, I went gallivanting off to the air show and he stayed home to deal with any crap that might arise.
You don’t think his squadron will mind when I show up in his place for the next cross-country, do you?
To the Nth 