Or, Expanding My Business, Chapter 2.
I have rid my house of a lot of ゴミ gomi trash through the magical e-world of Freecycle--stuff that is still, of course, of use but for which I simply no longer find need. I scribble the recipient's name on a piece of scratch paper (always in abundance) with my handy-dandy felt-tip calligraphy pen and set the baggies outside for pickup in front of the garage door.
One day, a woman had commented back to me on a kind "thank you" email regarding my calligraphy. It turns out she was into Japanese sumi calligraphy, the kind I earned my teaching license in back in 1997 while still living in Japan. She had always dreamed, while in Japan with the State Department, of becoming the first left-handed brush calligrapher--but that dream had never actualized, perhaps in part due to the fact that left-handedness is completely repressed in Japanese society and you are forced into being right-handed. Regardless, we exchanged a few emails and that was that.
Out of the blue---
On Sunday I received an email from her inquiring into my calligraphy and how much I would charge to do a 7 stanza poem (each stanza in haiku form) that she had written some 18 years ago for her father, that she would like to present him with for his upcoming 80+ birthday. It would be an interesting mix of my cultures and a wonderful challenge; she has envisioned black sumi ink on exquisite washi (rice) paper calligraphization of Western script; the poem is in English.
So I am looking forward to having some time, perhaps this afternoon, to get my sumi stone out, rub my ink, loosen up my brushes and do some practice samples of different "fonts" that would look good done in brush strokes. What a fun project! And to be paid a little for it as well--who would have ever thunk it?! I have been paid lump sums for wedding invitation envelopes or graduation envelopes or school certificates in the past, but nothing like this; I will do quotes, prayers or poems for friends or my children's teachers as gifts. So this could be a lot of fun...and all from simply having scribbled someone's name on a piece of scratch paper with a nice pen. Go figure.
Okay: so we have Spanish professor/dream analysis/palm reader/calligraphizer. This is getting interesting and all the more varied all the time. Get a degree in horticulture (another dream of mine...costs nothing to dream) and we'll add Master Gardener to the list...JA! I wish...
miércoles, 27 de febrero de 2008
martes, 26 de febrero de 2008
the human barometer
We have a low that moved over last night and brought us some rain. Possibly some snow as it moves out and the cold north winds come back in overnight, but nothing that would cancel or postpone school.
As the Human Barometer, I feel every passage of these lows almost as if being a personal attack. The headache starts--sometimes, as in yesterday, very low and gradually builds. Other times, depending on the intensity of the low, it hits so hard I can almost fall down with the pure force. How do I know that this is caused by my sensitivity to meteorological events? Two reasons: one, as soon as the low passes, the headache disappears completely, and two, my palms say so.
Yes, I do know Basic Palm Reading. I could say I have passed 101 level and can operate more on the 200-level. Not advanced, but I found it a great way to teach verb tenses expressing future, probablility (subjunctive) and even use of the imperative (commands) in some of my intermediate Spanish classes that was different and a lot of fun for my adult students. So I learned how to read palms, put some general diagrams together with general Spanish terms and voila! a new class activity.
Anyhow, my Mercury line is extremely well-defined. It stretches from the inner palm of my hand outwards and upwards toward my pinkie finger. Some people have it, some do not. Some have a weak line, some have strong lines. The stronger the line, the more “affected by one’s environment” one tends to be…and this extends to sensitivity to emotional states, allergies, foods…not merely weather.
Interesting. Want me to read your palm? Scan me a copy of your palm. We’ll see what I can do! ☺ Couple that with my dream analysis, and I can add an entirely new realm to my language business…
hmmm…the Language of the Past, Present and Future….
I like it!
As the Human Barometer, I feel every passage of these lows almost as if being a personal attack. The headache starts--sometimes, as in yesterday, very low and gradually builds. Other times, depending on the intensity of the low, it hits so hard I can almost fall down with the pure force. How do I know that this is caused by my sensitivity to meteorological events? Two reasons: one, as soon as the low passes, the headache disappears completely, and two, my palms say so.
Yes, I do know Basic Palm Reading. I could say I have passed 101 level and can operate more on the 200-level. Not advanced, but I found it a great way to teach verb tenses expressing future, probablility (subjunctive) and even use of the imperative (commands) in some of my intermediate Spanish classes that was different and a lot of fun for my adult students. So I learned how to read palms, put some general diagrams together with general Spanish terms and voila! a new class activity.
Anyhow, my Mercury line is extremely well-defined. It stretches from the inner palm of my hand outwards and upwards toward my pinkie finger. Some people have it, some do not. Some have a weak line, some have strong lines. The stronger the line, the more “affected by one’s environment” one tends to be…and this extends to sensitivity to emotional states, allergies, foods…not merely weather.
Interesting. Want me to read your palm? Scan me a copy of your palm. We’ll see what I can do! ☺ Couple that with my dream analysis, and I can add an entirely new realm to my language business…
hmmm…the Language of the Past, Present and Future….
I like it!
lunes, 25 de febrero de 2008
hiatus
I meant to write today but decided to lesson plan for the week, play a bit with the kids and try to nip in the bud a headache that has definite growth potential.
It has been an extremely stressful week but I am seeing a light at the end of the tunnel that is worth holding onto, it has been talked about and next step will be to make theory reality.
But for now all that matters is sleep; I only got two hours last night and that is just not enough for me.
Good night, sweet dreams all!
It has been an extremely stressful week but I am seeing a light at the end of the tunnel that is worth holding onto, it has been talked about and next step will be to make theory reality.
But for now all that matters is sleep; I only got two hours last night and that is just not enough for me.
Good night, sweet dreams all!
viernes, 22 de febrero de 2008
bandages vs. resolutions
This morning La Princesita started to cry as she realized that school was cancelled today for an ice storm (that never really fully developed...but that is another story). She was so sad, she sobbed to me, as she really was going to miss school.
I was in the process of explaining to her that everybody, even her teacher, was going to have a vacation day today and that this is Mother Nature's little way of giving us all (except for the parents, of course...2nd 3-day weekend in a row...ay!) a little mid-winter break...when her father came down the hall and peeked his head into the room and offered to turn on the cartoons on TV.
I turned to glare at him, 1. for violating my border space, and 2. for even suggesting that the cartoons be turned on at 7:00 a.m. on a Friday morning. I have rather strict television-watching rules in the house; the monitos can watch a little PBS Kids a couple of times a week, and are allowed to watch Saturday Morning Cartoons (that's just a tradition).
"Since she's sad, I thought that would cheer her up," he said.
I turned away, muttering something about not normally watching TV in the mornings in this house, and continued to tend to my princesita. Inside I was burning with rage.
This situation illustrates what so many of my husband and my greatest conflicts over the past ten years have involved; namely, the fact that I do not feel listened to, especially when I most need to feel comprehended and heard. Instead, “bandages” would simply be placed over everything that was wrong, in the hopes that covering up that which was wrong would simply either go away or “heal” themselves. In this case, he was offering to La Princesita a bandage, something to cover up what was bothering her rather than taking her, holding her, leaving his comfy little circle/bubble/world in which he lives and permitting his daughter to emote…something she needs to have available as she is an extremely sensitive soul.
I want my children to have a healthy relationship with their father and, in any way I can that no longer involves sacrificing who I am, my happiness and what I need to be in my life, I want to facilitate that relationship. Moments like the above described break my heart. I have tried to teach him what I need him to do for me for the past ten years and that has never come to pass. I honestly wonder if there is hope for his relationship with his children.
He is a man who enjoys learning the way of doing things by the book…and doing anything that deviates from the way The Book (any book…whatever he believes The Rules to be) is simply not aceptable. Just last night he attended a presentation on healthy relationships between fathers and daughters. An applaudable effort. He studies, he learns, he is not a stupid man. However, learning the theory and applying the ideas to real life situations are two separate issues, and he cannot seem to cross that line from the books to the practice.
A part of me wanted to scream at him this morning, to tell him that he can learn and listen and read all he wants over how to create a good, strong, healthy relationship with his children but if all he does is turn on the television and try to placate their tears instead of talking them out simply because it makes him ‘uncomfortable’ or requires him to step out of his little world and actually enter the worlds of his children, that relationship will not grow. They will learn that they cannot talk to him because he will not make the necessary reciprocal effort of comprehending them.
…and I am trying to raise two children who are communicators, so that they can avoid the types of explosive behavior that has plagued our marital relationship (back when we even spoke…we don’t even fight anymore). This example will not help.
It will therefore be my responsibility, as it always is, to try to point out, without being accusing, how he can do a better job of handling situations such as that which I was able to, after 15 minutes of communicating, iron out and make better. Without a bandage.
Whether or not I will be heard, however, is another issue. I sincerely hope that, for the sake of the children, he can learn to leave his own little world behind from time to time…or I fear his relationship with his children will end up much like our marriage.
I was in the process of explaining to her that everybody, even her teacher, was going to have a vacation day today and that this is Mother Nature's little way of giving us all (except for the parents, of course...2nd 3-day weekend in a row...ay!) a little mid-winter break...when her father came down the hall and peeked his head into the room and offered to turn on the cartoons on TV.
I turned to glare at him, 1. for violating my border space, and 2. for even suggesting that the cartoons be turned on at 7:00 a.m. on a Friday morning. I have rather strict television-watching rules in the house; the monitos can watch a little PBS Kids a couple of times a week, and are allowed to watch Saturday Morning Cartoons (that's just a tradition).
"Since she's sad, I thought that would cheer her up," he said.
I turned away, muttering something about not normally watching TV in the mornings in this house, and continued to tend to my princesita. Inside I was burning with rage.
This situation illustrates what so many of my husband and my greatest conflicts over the past ten years have involved; namely, the fact that I do not feel listened to, especially when I most need to feel comprehended and heard. Instead, “bandages” would simply be placed over everything that was wrong, in the hopes that covering up that which was wrong would simply either go away or “heal” themselves. In this case, he was offering to La Princesita a bandage, something to cover up what was bothering her rather than taking her, holding her, leaving his comfy little circle/bubble/world in which he lives and permitting his daughter to emote…something she needs to have available as she is an extremely sensitive soul.
I want my children to have a healthy relationship with their father and, in any way I can that no longer involves sacrificing who I am, my happiness and what I need to be in my life, I want to facilitate that relationship. Moments like the above described break my heart. I have tried to teach him what I need him to do for me for the past ten years and that has never come to pass. I honestly wonder if there is hope for his relationship with his children.
He is a man who enjoys learning the way of doing things by the book…and doing anything that deviates from the way The Book (any book…whatever he believes The Rules to be) is simply not aceptable. Just last night he attended a presentation on healthy relationships between fathers and daughters. An applaudable effort. He studies, he learns, he is not a stupid man. However, learning the theory and applying the ideas to real life situations are two separate issues, and he cannot seem to cross that line from the books to the practice.
A part of me wanted to scream at him this morning, to tell him that he can learn and listen and read all he wants over how to create a good, strong, healthy relationship with his children but if all he does is turn on the television and try to placate their tears instead of talking them out simply because it makes him ‘uncomfortable’ or requires him to step out of his little world and actually enter the worlds of his children, that relationship will not grow. They will learn that they cannot talk to him because he will not make the necessary reciprocal effort of comprehending them.
…and I am trying to raise two children who are communicators, so that they can avoid the types of explosive behavior that has plagued our marital relationship (back when we even spoke…we don’t even fight anymore). This example will not help.
It will therefore be my responsibility, as it always is, to try to point out, without being accusing, how he can do a better job of handling situations such as that which I was able to, after 15 minutes of communicating, iron out and make better. Without a bandage.
Whether or not I will be heard, however, is another issue. I sincerely hope that, for the sake of the children, he can learn to leave his own little world behind from time to time…or I fear his relationship with his children will end up much like our marriage.
martes, 19 de febrero de 2008
laughter and cat vomit
I need to laugh more. I know this, I have always been told this.
Once, in Ecuador 15 1/2 years ago I had a dear professor who told me that I have such a pretty smile, and that I need to smile more often.
I know, I know.
But it is something else when my 3 year old Young Prince begs me to laugh. Instructs me to laugh. He pretend-tickles me (because, of course, The Queen is NOT ticklish) and then tells me, "Now, Mommy, you have to laugh." When I am reading or hear something funny and just start laughing all of a sudden, he comes running to me and wants to cuddle with me, his face alit in a smile that makes his young dark eyes sparkle.
Okay, I'm getting the message.
Once, in Ecuador 15 1/2 years ago I had a dear professor who told me that I have such a pretty smile, and that I need to smile more often.
I know, I know.
But it is something else when my 3 year old Young Prince begs me to laugh. Instructs me to laugh. He pretend-tickles me (because, of course, The Queen is NOT ticklish) and then tells me, "Now, Mommy, you have to laugh." When I am reading or hear something funny and just start laughing all of a sudden, he comes running to me and wants to cuddle with me, his face alit in a smile that makes his young dark eyes sparkle.
Okay, I'm getting the message.
*-----*
I am trying to figure out if my children are just strange or if it is all a function of endorphine-release, but when they are--hmmm, let's just keep it clean here and say sitting on the potty and finish the job, they become extremely amorous toward me. Perhaps it was always how I would sit there with them while potty-training and hold their hands, assuring them that it would all be just fine and making the potty a safe and secure place for them. Who knows. But after a really big whatever--#1 or #2 (we use actual terminology in our house, no pussy-footing around the issue)--they BOTH, if I am checking in on them, will embrace me or put their head into my hands and say, "I love you, Mommy." So funny.
But I dare not laugh at that. Don't want to start any reverse-potty action since I've done so well thus far!
But I dare not laugh at that. Don't want to start any reverse-potty action since I've done so well thus far!
*-----*
The Court Jester (aka the Cat) threw up all over the house today. Fortunately it was all on either tile or wood flooring, NOT on the carpet.
(deep breath, ick factor is kicking in...ugh)
So I get the first big puddle of grayish upchucked mush and expressed my intense disgust at that. The little things we do to teach our children not to be so self-centered. Then go on with Life, do a few other things then go into the living room to pick up a couple things off the floor, and --- eeeeeeew! another puddle.
What could I do? I just started laughing.
Is this what it has all come to? A constant cleaner-upper of Cat hurl? Lovely.
Of course, the sound of my laughter brought the Young Prince and La Princesita running to my side, where they stood, equally disgusted by the sight next to which I was kneeling.
Yeah, I need to laugh more.
As they stood watching me in awe of both my amazing kitty-hurl mop-up prowess and my ability to laugh while completing such a task, I asked why they were watching this gross stuff. La Princesita said, "I like gross stuff."
Wonderful. No wonder she's popular with the Kindergarten boys.
So I offered her a job as Assistant Hurl Mopper.
La Princesita, smart as she is, declined. "No, I'll just take care of the gross stuff when I am a mommy."
And that just about says it all.
JA JA JA JA JA JA JA!
(deep breath, ick factor is kicking in...ugh)
So I get the first big puddle of grayish upchucked mush and expressed my intense disgust at that. The little things we do to teach our children not to be so self-centered. Then go on with Life, do a few other things then go into the living room to pick up a couple things off the floor, and --- eeeeeeew! another puddle.
What could I do? I just started laughing.
Is this what it has all come to? A constant cleaner-upper of Cat hurl? Lovely.
Of course, the sound of my laughter brought the Young Prince and La Princesita running to my side, where they stood, equally disgusted by the sight next to which I was kneeling.
Yeah, I need to laugh more.
As they stood watching me in awe of both my amazing kitty-hurl mop-up prowess and my ability to laugh while completing such a task, I asked why they were watching this gross stuff. La Princesita said, "I like gross stuff."
Wonderful. No wonder she's popular with the Kindergarten boys.
So I offered her a job as Assistant Hurl Mopper.
La Princesita, smart as she is, declined. "No, I'll just take care of the gross stuff when I am a mommy."
And that just about says it all.
JA JA JA JA JA JA JA!
lunes, 18 de febrero de 2008
I am an Auntie!
Announcing the birth of my niece!
Baby Kelsie Madison was born to my little sister at 8:17 this morning (Pacific Time). She weighed in at 7 lbs 14 oz and is 18 inches long.
Everyone is doing well.
She called my mother and told her it was a boy. She said Mom about had a fit. JA!
Congratulations!
Baby Kelsie Madison was born to my little sister at 8:17 this morning (Pacific Time). She weighed in at 7 lbs 14 oz and is 18 inches long.
Everyone is doing well.
She called my mother and told her it was a boy. She said Mom about had a fit. JA!
Congratulations!
domingo, 17 de febrero de 2008
Gettin' OUT
I went to see this amazing performer, Curtis Eller, last night down at the Galaxy Hut. He's an old high-school classmate of one of my friends. It had to be one of the most unique shows I have ever before seen. Check out the clip; beware of strong language. He is a real hoot.
So this means that The Queen got out of her Queen-dome for the night. YESSSSSSS
And write this down, ladies and gentlemen: I did not arrive back at the Queen-dome until
*gasp*
midnight.
For me, up every morning at 5:00 a.m. with children usually about to pounce upon me sooner rather than later, I don't usually live to see many clocks chime 9:30 or even 9 p.m.
But I made it last night.
And may I say:
it felt sooooooooo gooooooooooood
Being a beer bar, I figured there would be nothing for me (no wheat=no malt=no beer). But I lucked out as they did have wine...albeit yellowtail, they at least had cab so I didn't have to try to swallow a shiraz.
It was crowded but, as we were friends of the artist, we didn't feel too uncomfortable standing right up front with him. Chatting with my friend while her husband was talking with Curtis, I suddenly felt eyes on me...
hmmm....
I obviously haven't been out in a very, very looooooong time.
A face came out of the crowd. It was an ex-student of mine from my Uni teaching days. She said, "I can't believe it. I just told my friend, 'That's my Spanish prof!'" Obviously not anymore; in fact, she was in my class back in 2005 so it has been a few years. But I remembered her and she obviously remembered me.
This brings me to something else I read today, a postcard on PostSecret and an emailed response. The postcard reads:
"A few years ago my husband celebrated his 25th year of teaching. After touching the lives of hundreds of students not ONE RSVP'd to his surprise party. We had to cancel. He never knew it. He loves his job. I hate it."The ensuing response:
"I always think about writing a thank you letter, or just dropping by to say hello to some of my former teachers. I've never done it because I've been afraid they won't remember me. And really? That would be crushing; finding out that I was forgotten while they were not.Names do come and go. I have been teaching for over 15 years and never forget a face, not even a Japanese face, although ask me to remember a name and I would have to be reminded. When one has taught and interacted with so many students, in so many historical contexts over such an extended period, the names might be forgotten but the student is not. And it is not only the overachievers that are remembered; that is a common misconception.
"But maybe just saying it would be enough, even if they don't remember. Thank you for reminding me of that. And a heartfelt thank you to your husband for all his dedication -- you can't imagine how much it really means to me. I probably wouldn't be here if not for people like him. I'll be starting those letters today.
Sincerely,
Michelle"
When my father died, his funeral was attended by students of his last class of 1998, and his first class of 1967. My mother received various condolence letters from students, most of whom expressed gratitude for the motivation and example he set for them, one that made them want to become teachers (and some, even, math teachers just like him) themselves.
I am that kind of a teacher, too. I have always cared, perhaps too much, about my students and their lives. What is learned in a classroom is only valid if you are going to use it in the outside world. Use what you know from outside the classroom to help you get the stuff with which I'm trying to expand your world within the classroom. Get beyond the exams and live your life. But don't just live. LIVE! Enjoy! Laugh, cry, embrace, love, feel, do, act, react and be! Bring your experiences to class and, as long as you try to do it in español, tell us all about it!
Maybe that's why my ex-students still call me out of the blue for recommendations. They know I'll remember them.
Maybe that's why my ex-students embrace me when they see me, even years later, or contact me out of the blue after having "found" me on the Internet. They know I will remember them and they are secure.
They have absolutely no idea what good it does me, to have them recognize me, embrace me, talk to me, remember me, recall some random event that occurred or something that I said that actually stuck. That they are using in their lives today--perhaps a mantra, as in my favorite "may you live all the days of your life"...and that particular student got a D in my course, I remember...
The magic lies in the minute details, doesn't it? A simple "Hello" or a hug. Instant validation of having done right, of having done good, of having made a difference and to at least be remembered.
I am smiling today.
jueves, 14 de febrero de 2008
tears
I read the story and sobbed. Hard.
What has happened to us?
Northern Illinois University, site of the "latest" campus "shooting event"...incredible that we can even use "latest" and "shooting event" in the same clause... I just don't know what to think. What have we done to ourselves? What has happened?
I feel these attacks personally. I had to teach in that post-broken-innocence, that all teachers (and students) now face in each and every classroom in the United States. I have had threats, I have been fearful, I have wondered what would have happened if I had said the wrong thing one night when a certain student had forgotten to take her meds.
And I have two children who I am trying my hardest to raise as loving, trusting souls...but must I put a caveat on everything I teach? "Yes, trust...but then again, you can't really trust anyone. You're in this alone. Really." That is not the world in which I want my children taking part.
But I have no choice.
Maybe I'm thinking too deeply about this. I just hate and resent, truly resent how utterly helpless I feel facing all we have to face now.
How can I change it? What in the world can I do to change this?
What has happened to us?
Northern Illinois University, site of the "latest" campus "shooting event"...incredible that we can even use "latest" and "shooting event" in the same clause... I just don't know what to think. What have we done to ourselves? What has happened?
I feel these attacks personally. I had to teach in that post-broken-innocence, that all teachers (and students) now face in each and every classroom in the United States. I have had threats, I have been fearful, I have wondered what would have happened if I had said the wrong thing one night when a certain student had forgotten to take her meds.
And I have two children who I am trying my hardest to raise as loving, trusting souls...but must I put a caveat on everything I teach? "Yes, trust...but then again, you can't really trust anyone. You're in this alone. Really." That is not the world in which I want my children taking part.
But I have no choice.
Maybe I'm thinking too deeply about this. I just hate and resent, truly resent how utterly helpless I feel facing all we have to face now.
How can I change it? What in the world can I do to change this?
Does this year seem early to you?
It does to me.
Everything is happening so early. Easter is celebrated very early this year. Mardi Gras was extremely early. My mother even said that her birthday is NEVER the same week as Easter.
So I researched the question a little bit.
The Christian celebrations of Lent and Easter are determined by the lunar year; Easter traditionally falls the first Sunday following the first full moon after the Spring Equinox. I did know that. This year, all of these occurances take place during the same week in March, with Easter falling on the 23rd. This is a rare occurance, I learned; indeed, Easter has not fallen so early as March 23rd since 1913. Woodrow Wilson was President. Lent that year began on February 5 (this year February 6 due to it being a leap year).
Easter will not occur this early again until we are all gone from this Earth, in the year 2160.
In case Alex ever were to ask that on Jeopardy!, you are now prepared.
Everything is happening so early. Easter is celebrated very early this year. Mardi Gras was extremely early. My mother even said that her birthday is NEVER the same week as Easter.
So I researched the question a little bit.
The Christian celebrations of Lent and Easter are determined by the lunar year; Easter traditionally falls the first Sunday following the first full moon after the Spring Equinox. I did know that. This year, all of these occurances take place during the same week in March, with Easter falling on the 23rd. This is a rare occurance, I learned; indeed, Easter has not fallen so early as March 23rd since 1913. Woodrow Wilson was President. Lent that year began on February 5 (this year February 6 due to it being a leap year).
Easter will not occur this early again until we are all gone from this Earth, in the year 2160.
In case Alex ever were to ask that on Jeopardy!, you are now prepared.
miércoles, 13 de febrero de 2008
ice storm
Even the power lines look elegant with the drooping sway of 1-2 inch icicles lacing their lengths. The limbs of the cherry and the infant maple are encased in whitish ice.
If the sun were shining, it would be quite a sight. Alas, it is a gray and heavily misty day, with the ice slowly melting away.
I will try to take some pictures but, as I do not own a digital camera but a 35 mm, it will be a while before I will be able to post them.
The schools in this district are on a two-hour delay this morning, and power was temporarily knocked out in the middle of the night, only for about an hour and a half. After dropping la Princesita off at her class, I will head down to the City for another dubbing project for work. Unfortunately, this schedule meant I had to cancel my morning class--win some, lose some.
If the sun were shining, it would be quite a sight. Alas, it is a gray and heavily misty day, with the ice slowly melting away.
I will try to take some pictures but, as I do not own a digital camera but a 35 mm, it will be a while before I will be able to post them.
The schools in this district are on a two-hour delay this morning, and power was temporarily knocked out in the middle of the night, only for about an hour and a half. After dropping la Princesita off at her class, I will head down to the City for another dubbing project for work. Unfortunately, this schedule meant I had to cancel my morning class--win some, lose some.
lunes, 11 de febrero de 2008
my father-in-law
He is a good and generous man, my father-in-law. He is a dentist by trade, is known for being good and gentle, and would take payment in the form of fresh fish or kahlua pig if a patient could not monetarily recompense services rendered.
He suffered a bilateral stroke last night and is in the hospital now. It appears his speech is quite slurred and he can be hard to understand...
...oh, the painful memories of my own dear father this brings rushing back to my heart...
He is far away, on a distant island and currently inaccessible to those in his family who are constrained by money, childcare, their own health issues, jobs and/or geography--two of his children, his brothers--so many on the mainland, so hard to get back.
No need to rush right now, so my sister-in-law says. Many people recover from strokes.
Perhaps that is so.
But I know better.
Maybe it is my own bitter life experience that has shown me otherwise.
Tonight my heart hurts. For his family, for the pain all must endure in knowing and seeing such a good, strong man become suddenly so weak. For this period of unknowing that inevitably occurs. For feeling all of that they are numb to, for I know and intimately understand the numbness and dreamlike, auto-pilot state of being we kick into under these circumstances. For my own memories that I cannot let go.
He suffered a bilateral stroke last night and is in the hospital now. It appears his speech is quite slurred and he can be hard to understand...
...oh, the painful memories of my own dear father this brings rushing back to my heart...
He is far away, on a distant island and currently inaccessible to those in his family who are constrained by money, childcare, their own health issues, jobs and/or geography--two of his children, his brothers--so many on the mainland, so hard to get back.
No need to rush right now, so my sister-in-law says. Many people recover from strokes.
Perhaps that is so.
But I know better.
Maybe it is my own bitter life experience that has shown me otherwise.
Tonight my heart hurts. For his family, for the pain all must endure in knowing and seeing such a good, strong man become suddenly so weak. For this period of unknowing that inevitably occurs. For feeling all of that they are numb to, for I know and intimately understand the numbness and dreamlike, auto-pilot state of being we kick into under these circumstances. For my own memories that I cannot let go.
The 123 meme
Okay...a couple of my bloggy buddies have this up so I ought to follow suit.
As I am usually in my classroom for my computing time...hmmm...let's see what I have that isn't just a word list:
Manual de gramática, for my advanced students. No, p. 123 is just a list.
The text currently used at the local University that I am tutoring a few students with...no, p. 123 is simply oral exercises.
Okay...next is my intermediate text. Ah-JA! An actual article.
It's in español. (duh)
An article about "La vida anti-estrés" (Anti-stress Life): La tensión femenina (Feminine tension)...okay, this could just totally be me here:
So there you go.
Now you can SEE I did not cheat on the rules and go find something academic and extremely intellectual from my basement filled with mental masturbation--oh, I mean lit crit and theory.
I am sooooo beyond trying to sound smarter than I really am.
(That was sooooo my 20s!)
Below are the rules, let me know in a comment if you follow through or not--but I hate tagging others. Trying to rid "obligation" from my life, and thus I cannot fairly push obligation onto others!
Instructions:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open it at page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence/ phrase.
4. Blog the next four sentences/ phrases together with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig your shelves for that very special or intellectual book.
(6. Pass it forward to six friends.)
As I am usually in my classroom for my computing time...hmmm...let's see what I have that isn't just a word list:
Manual de gramática, for my advanced students. No, p. 123 is just a list.
The text currently used at the local University that I am tutoring a few students with...no, p. 123 is simply oral exercises.
Okay...next is my intermediate text. Ah-JA! An actual article.
It's in español. (duh)
An article about "La vida anti-estrés" (Anti-stress Life): La tensión femenina (Feminine tension)...okay, this could just totally be me here:
"Hay innumerables ejemplos de mujeres extenuadas." (There are innumerable examples of over-extended women.)Hmmmm...sounds like an article I should go back and read...
So there you go.
Now you can SEE I did not cheat on the rules and go find something academic and extremely intellectual from my basement filled with mental masturbation--oh, I mean lit crit and theory.
I am sooooo beyond trying to sound smarter than I really am.
(That was sooooo my 20s!)
Below are the rules, let me know in a comment if you follow through or not--but I hate tagging others. Trying to rid "obligation" from my life, and thus I cannot fairly push obligation onto others!
Instructions:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open it at page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence/ phrase.
4. Blog the next four sentences/ phrases together with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig your shelves for that very special or intellectual book.
(6. Pass it forward to six friends.)
domingo, 10 de febrero de 2008
NEE-NUR NEE-NUR NEEEEE-NUR!
I finished my taaaa-xes. Ha ha ha!
And you probably did not.
Be honest. Have you even LOOKED at your pile of papers from 2007 yet?
(feeling a wee bit self-righteous tonight)
Sorry. That is why I am Me. Too anal to wait until the last minute. Just can't do it. Plus, I am livin' for that refund, baby, albeit considerably less this year due to my self-employment.
But when you pay (gasp) 16,000$ in mortgage interest in a year (OUCH!), you're bound to get something back.
(BIG GRIN)
Now I get a glass of wine, just for finishing everything up. Gotta love TurboTax!
And you probably did not.
Be honest. Have you even LOOKED at your pile of papers from 2007 yet?
(feeling a wee bit self-righteous tonight)
Sorry. That is why I am Me. Too anal to wait until the last minute. Just can't do it. Plus, I am livin' for that refund, baby, albeit considerably less this year due to my self-employment.
But when you pay (gasp) 16,000$ in mortgage interest in a year (OUCH!), you're bound to get something back.
(BIG GRIN)
Now I get a glass of wine, just for finishing everything up. Gotta love TurboTax!
V-day in Japan
Valentine's Day is not celebrated quite in the same way in Japan as it is elsewhere. It is merely a day during which women shower men with gifts of food, chocolate, drink and superficial shows of appreciation, perhaps crushes and/or love.
Women do not receive anything on this day. Instead, a mere obligatorily "reciprocation" and acknowledgment of the given gift of chocolates is granted the woman on March 14, called "White Day".
She will instead receive gifts of soaps, shampoos and body scents.
Bah.
Does this mean to say the men think that we stink?
Why do they get the chocolate and we get body scents?
Yet another reason to boycott the whole day, in my humble opinion.
Oh, and pass the wine. And, um, don't you DARE forget the chocolate.
(Soy-free, of course.)
Women do not receive anything on this day. Instead, a mere obligatorily "reciprocation" and acknowledgment of the given gift of chocolates is granted the woman on March 14, called "White Day".
She will instead receive gifts of soaps, shampoos and body scents.
Bah.
Does this mean to say the men think that we stink?
Why do they get the chocolate and we get body scents?
Yet another reason to boycott the whole day, in my humble opinion.
Oh, and pass the wine. And, um, don't you DARE forget the chocolate.
(Soy-free, of course.)
blessings and challenges
Happiness is sipping Starbucks hot chocolate with a six year old who adores you on a girls' night out shopping on a Saturday night. I love that she is getting older and yet I dread the day she prefers to spend that time with her friends rather than with me.
Which shows me that I desperately need to get a life.
I did extend myself this week and met up with another parent in La Princesita's class. I tried. Meeting at her (new) house, of course (inferiority complex, my boro-boro 40+ year old brick home just does not compare...) we sipped cappuchino and had a wonderful morning on Friday. Problem is, I realize just how obvious it is that I am so not happy with certain aspects of my life--it is impossible for me to even answer the inevitable questions that all relationships begin with, things like, "So how did you and your husband meet?"
I am starting to think that I just can't do this. Not the separation part...that is becoming more firmly defined with the arrangements we figured out last week, although still not quite to the point that permits me my comfort zone (i.e. separate roofs). We are on separate floors, and are doing the "housemate" thing, sharing the (upstairs in my "apartment") kitchen and the (downstairs in his "apartment") laundry room. I'm trying to find a cheap, small, flat LCD TV that can fit in my room so I don't have to be downstairs to watch my Univisión. The kids have free reign. My office is unfortunately downstairs, but there is no way to move all that up to the classroom. No room. I need an office if I have a home-based business.
What I don't think I can do is comfortably meet people. Not the kind of romantic meeting people--I am still married, technically, by a sheet of paper; Heavens knows I do NOT need complications in my life; and I will never again be 'marketable.' I'm resigned to that. No, I'm talking about meeting other women, forming that community of women in my life that I vowed so long ago I would never let go. I know and was comforted by the fact that there are others who feel the way about the "alpha mom" syndrome (I gave it that name) around here that I feel and how the few of us do need to stick together and not let ourselves be taken, in the name of just allowing our children to be kids...the only time in their lives they'll be able to do so. The problem is with the personal stuff...I can't converse or, if it enters into a conversation, I will end up opening floodgates about the disaster I have made of my marriage and how dreadfully unhappy I am.
And who wants to get to know someone who feels like that? What a downer.
So I'm back in my hole, where it's safe, and afraid to leave. Trapped.
I was going to the gym this morning but stopped myself. I already have a splitting headache for the second day in a row and I have work to do here this morning (which I am obviously procrastinating by blogging), plus I should not go two days in a row when I'm trying to put on weight. It's just the getting-out-of-the-house routine that I like to maintain. But I did that yesterday.
The piercing place here in town doesn't exist after all. The Town will not permit such places within its borders (it's a fairly conservative little town). Have to go to the neighboring communities to do that. Rats. I was hoping for simplistic proximity.
It's a chilly, windy yet sunny day. Maybe I should bring my work up here to the classroom and work, even though I'll have to deal with Everyone Else if I am here. I need to get La Princesita finished with her obligatory shows of affection for her classmates for Vday. It's nice not recognizing Vday myself, although for the children's sake I have some cute little presents (new socks, some notepads/$1 store toys that they go nuts over) for them. I bought myself a hurricane candle holder and three big candles for my room. And yes, they are scented. My "housemate" does not like scented anything and evidently, by the way he smashed my irreplaceable, hand-made candleholder last year in the same tyrade in which he smashed the kitchen window, doesn't care for candles at all.
So that purchase was for me. And the candles were on SALE! Yippee! So that is a blessing.
I'm trying.
Which shows me that I desperately need to get a life.
I did extend myself this week and met up with another parent in La Princesita's class. I tried. Meeting at her (new) house, of course (inferiority complex, my boro-boro 40+ year old brick home just does not compare...) we sipped cappuchino and had a wonderful morning on Friday. Problem is, I realize just how obvious it is that I am so not happy with certain aspects of my life--it is impossible for me to even answer the inevitable questions that all relationships begin with, things like, "So how did you and your husband meet?"
I am starting to think that I just can't do this. Not the separation part...that is becoming more firmly defined with the arrangements we figured out last week, although still not quite to the point that permits me my comfort zone (i.e. separate roofs). We are on separate floors, and are doing the "housemate" thing, sharing the (upstairs in my "apartment") kitchen and the (downstairs in his "apartment") laundry room. I'm trying to find a cheap, small, flat LCD TV that can fit in my room so I don't have to be downstairs to watch my Univisión. The kids have free reign. My office is unfortunately downstairs, but there is no way to move all that up to the classroom. No room. I need an office if I have a home-based business.
What I don't think I can do is comfortably meet people. Not the kind of romantic meeting people--I am still married, technically, by a sheet of paper; Heavens knows I do NOT need complications in my life; and I will never again be 'marketable.' I'm resigned to that. No, I'm talking about meeting other women, forming that community of women in my life that I vowed so long ago I would never let go. I know and was comforted by the fact that there are others who feel the way about the "alpha mom" syndrome (I gave it that name) around here that I feel and how the few of us do need to stick together and not let ourselves be taken, in the name of just allowing our children to be kids...the only time in their lives they'll be able to do so. The problem is with the personal stuff...I can't converse or, if it enters into a conversation, I will end up opening floodgates about the disaster I have made of my marriage and how dreadfully unhappy I am.
And who wants to get to know someone who feels like that? What a downer.
So I'm back in my hole, where it's safe, and afraid to leave. Trapped.
I was going to the gym this morning but stopped myself. I already have a splitting headache for the second day in a row and I have work to do here this morning (which I am obviously procrastinating by blogging), plus I should not go two days in a row when I'm trying to put on weight. It's just the getting-out-of-the-house routine that I like to maintain. But I did that yesterday.
The piercing place here in town doesn't exist after all. The Town will not permit such places within its borders (it's a fairly conservative little town). Have to go to the neighboring communities to do that. Rats. I was hoping for simplistic proximity.
It's a chilly, windy yet sunny day. Maybe I should bring my work up here to the classroom and work, even though I'll have to deal with Everyone Else if I am here. I need to get La Princesita finished with her obligatory shows of affection for her classmates for Vday. It's nice not recognizing Vday myself, although for the children's sake I have some cute little presents (new socks, some notepads/$1 store toys that they go nuts over) for them. I bought myself a hurricane candle holder and three big candles for my room. And yes, they are scented. My "housemate" does not like scented anything and evidently, by the way he smashed my irreplaceable, hand-made candleholder last year in the same tyrade in which he smashed the kitchen window, doesn't care for candles at all.
So that purchase was for me. And the candles were on SALE! Yippee! So that is a blessing.
I'm trying.
viernes, 8 de febrero de 2008
how-to of the day
On my homepage, I subscribe to Google's "how-to of the day". I don't always read them, but if something I need to know comes up, I take a peek
Today's kind of caught my eye.
"How to get pregnant."
Duuuuuude... I could even tell you that, and I'm a llama.
I will mention, however, that the conception is, in most cases, one heck of a lot more enjoyable than the rest of the process.
Do not say you were not warned.
Today's kind of caught my eye.
"How to get pregnant."
Duuuuuude... I could even tell you that, and I'm a llama.
I will mention, however, that the conception is, in most cases, one heck of a lot more enjoyable than the rest of the process.
Do not say you were not warned.
jueves, 7 de febrero de 2008
a boxful of memories
My mother has been cleaning house.
Today I received a box in the mail. Its contents included:
Why cry? Do I mourn? Do I wish? Is it the handwriting? Is it that I want for simpler times? Is it that I know I will never give my children the family life that I grew up with just because there is no way that I can be happy here? Should I sacrifice my happiness and my completeness in life for after they are grown and out of the house, only so that they might have at the least a façade of a stable, happy home (in which, of course, the parents don't even sleep together, let alone hardly speak)? Is it that I just miss my father so terribly? Is it that my last interaction with my grandmother was that of an emotional, hormonally over-reactive teenager who ran off from her parents and acted like a spoiled brat and worried them all terribly...then she died of a massive coronary two weeks later in the middle of the night, without my ever making it right again? Then felt like I was being more punished when my other grandmother, my only other living grandparent, died not six months later? Is it that I miss my mother? Is it that I miss feeling like a part of a family? Is it that I'm tired of for so long trying to force a family out of what is not strong enough to make that happen?
She says that she has made lots of trips to the Goodwill for donations and has just gotten rid of so much stuff.
I hope she finally let Dad's shirts go. They have been hanging in the closet upstairs for eight years now.
And it makes me so terribly sad to see them still there every time I return to the home of my youth...not so much for her and her need to hold on, but for my missing him so...
But, of the three of us left, I'm the strong one who can't let that be known.
So please don't tell her that.
Today I received a box in the mail. Its contents included:
- a coin from a show we saw together as a family in Beijing in March 1997
- a framed crosstitch that my grandmother had done, that my mother had always hung in the laundry room
- a clay picture I had created as an art project in elementary school, which she had hung, also, in the house
- an envelope filled with photos--everything from me at one week old to the Oak Alley plantation tour we took the week I was to be married, and postcards representing so many of the different countries I visited throughout my 20s
- two sweaters, hand-knit, that my mother had made my sister and I when we were La Princesita's age...she, in fact, wants to wear one of them tomorrow to kindergarten
- a family portrait of the four of us of when I was in the third grade. After my father had his first tumor removed, in the spring of 1981. He was 40. And so thin.
- all the Mother's Day cards I had made or given her, and all the Father's Day cards I had made or given Dad
- a couple of cards from my grandmother, who had died back in 1985 when I was 13
Why cry? Do I mourn? Do I wish? Is it the handwriting? Is it that I want for simpler times? Is it that I know I will never give my children the family life that I grew up with just because there is no way that I can be happy here? Should I sacrifice my happiness and my completeness in life for after they are grown and out of the house, only so that they might have at the least a façade of a stable, happy home (in which, of course, the parents don't even sleep together, let alone hardly speak)? Is it that I just miss my father so terribly? Is it that my last interaction with my grandmother was that of an emotional, hormonally over-reactive teenager who ran off from her parents and acted like a spoiled brat and worried them all terribly...then she died of a massive coronary two weeks later in the middle of the night, without my ever making it right again? Then felt like I was being more punished when my other grandmother, my only other living grandparent, died not six months later? Is it that I miss my mother? Is it that I miss feeling like a part of a family? Is it that I'm tired of for so long trying to force a family out of what is not strong enough to make that happen?
She says that she has made lots of trips to the Goodwill for donations and has just gotten rid of so much stuff.
I hope she finally let Dad's shirts go. They have been hanging in the closet upstairs for eight years now.
And it makes me so terribly sad to see them still there every time I return to the home of my youth...not so much for her and her need to hold on, but for my missing him so...
But, of the three of us left, I'm the strong one who can't let that be known.
So please don't tell her that.
martes, 5 de febrero de 2008
mardi gras mambo
Yesterday for Lundi Gras and today, in honor of Mardi Gras, I wear my beads with pride.
I had millions of throws left over from my three years celebrating in the Vieux Carré. I used many to fill glass-bottomed lamps, a decorating tip that would make Martha Stewart proud. I have only one such lamp left.
I kept my largest white beads and use them now to decorate my Christmas Tree each year as a garland.
And I kept my four favorite throws that I received...and I never had to demonstrate any indecency to receive them. Each were given to me, the best ones of the four put over my head at the St. Ann Drag Parade that occurs each year around noon by a man wearing nothing but a few strategically-placed green, gold and purple feathers...and a mask.
So let's all dance another Second Line in honor, please.
Laisses le bons temps roulle!
I had millions of throws left over from my three years celebrating in the Vieux Carré. I used many to fill glass-bottomed lamps, a decorating tip that would make Martha Stewart proud. I have only one such lamp left.
I kept my largest white beads and use them now to decorate my Christmas Tree each year as a garland.
And I kept my four favorite throws that I received...and I never had to demonstrate any indecency to receive them. Each were given to me, the best ones of the four put over my head at the St. Ann Drag Parade that occurs each year around noon by a man wearing nothing but a few strategically-placed green, gold and purple feathers...and a mask.
So let's all dance another Second Line in honor, please.
Laisses le bons temps roulle!
lunes, 4 de febrero de 2008
&*%$#!!
Okay, okay.
So the Pats did NOT win.
(insert fork into Humble Pie)
I have a feeling a LOT of moo-lah was lost last night...and a lot of subsequent hangovers this morning.
To be honest, I woke up to the news this morning. I was so incredibly "taken" by the game that the halftime show put me out.
Nothing like a Tom Petty drone (not that I mind him, mind you...he's part of my "Forever 80s Child" thing I've got going on) to shut down the ol' systems and lull you right into Wonderland.
(remember that video?)
My vote on Favorite Commercial? The squirrel that was about to be hit...brought to you by Bridgestone.
Screams - Bridgestone
My kids' Favorite Commercial? The dinosaurs doing the Michael Jackson "Thriller" Dance (the Young Prince calls it the "Dead Dance."...yes, he loves it when Mama Llama does it).
Sobe Life Water: Thriller - Pepsi-Cola
Keep in mind I only saw to halftime.
Oh, and sorry, Eli...you still don't have anything on Tommy-baby.
So the Pats did NOT win.
(insert fork into Humble Pie)
I have a feeling a LOT of moo-lah was lost last night...and a lot of subsequent hangovers this morning.
To be honest, I woke up to the news this morning. I was so incredibly "taken" by the game that the halftime show put me out.
Nothing like a Tom Petty drone (not that I mind him, mind you...he's part of my "Forever 80s Child" thing I've got going on) to shut down the ol' systems and lull you right into Wonderland.
(remember that video?)
My vote on Favorite Commercial? The squirrel that was about to be hit...brought to you by Bridgestone.
Screams - Bridgestone
My kids' Favorite Commercial? The dinosaurs doing the Michael Jackson "Thriller" Dance (the Young Prince calls it the "Dead Dance."...yes, he loves it when Mama Llama does it).
Sobe Life Water: Thriller - Pepsi-Cola
Keep in mind I only saw to halftime.
Oh, and sorry, Eli...you still don't have anything on Tommy-baby.
domingo, 3 de febrero de 2008
super boooooooowl
Will I be watching? Yeah, mainly the ads. But there is something intrinsically exciting about the blatant exertion of testosterone-driven aggression between two packs of males...
(oooooga oooooga)
It does help when you understand a bit about the game, too...I learned just a trite from my Daddy.
Unfortunately, here in these Eastern Lands the televised game is on so late that I would only have hopes of making it to halftime. However, in Japan...HA! It was televised after the game had ended. You had to either 1. not understand any Japanese whatsoever, or 2. simply turn off all forms of media communication if you did NOT want to hear who had won before the game had actually ended; yes, half-time Japanese commentary always talked about why the game ended up the way it did, JUST so we could watch it "in retrospect" in the second half...
slighly defeats the purpose, ¿no?
And my pick?
The Patriots, of course!
Why?
One simple reason:
Tom Brady is HOT.
(what, isn't that enough???)
(oooooga oooooga)
It does help when you understand a bit about the game, too...I learned just a trite from my Daddy.
Unfortunately, here in these Eastern Lands the televised game is on so late that I would only have hopes of making it to halftime. However, in Japan...HA! It was televised after the game had ended. You had to either 1. not understand any Japanese whatsoever, or 2. simply turn off all forms of media communication if you did NOT want to hear who had won before the game had actually ended; yes, half-time Japanese commentary always talked about why the game ended up the way it did, JUST so we could watch it "in retrospect" in the second half...
slighly defeats the purpose, ¿no?
And my pick?
The Patriots, of course!
Why?
One simple reason:
Tom Brady is HOT.
(what, isn't that enough???)
viernes, 1 de febrero de 2008
the subaru saga continues
My lawyer telephoned today from Nashville regarding the accident lawsuit. He told me that, just incredibly and something that rarely occurs in his profession, all three witnesses to the accident were accessible and were able to talk with him.
It was interesting hearing what the witnesses themselves had said and what points of view they had (literally speaking). One was right behind me, one was right behind the auto suing me, and one was in the oncoming traffic lane. Each said I was clearly forced off the road; it was the man from oncoming traffic whose witness report has made me feel so much better about the split-second decision I made to swerve as opposed to let myself get hit by the car that fled the scene. He told the lawyer that he saw it coming and, as it occured he was "telling" me to swerve or that we would be hit into oncoming traffic and die. Of course, the subsequent events were horrifying but the fact is we all survived with, besides a broken back, relatively minor injuries considering the number of times we flipped at 60 mph. So that alone, after what has almost been two years this March, has put my mind somewhat at ease in that I really, truly did do what I was supposed to have done and that there was really, truly no other way out.
Sigh.
Regarding trial: My lawyer mentioned that there are many people who, upon learning that the other side really has no case, will take it to trial just so that they can't get anything at all. Most insurance companies, he added, will refuse to make any offer whatsoever if there is no fault on the part of their client and the case appears a clear loss for the opposing side. However, he said, my insurance company sees things a bit differently, understands the huge emotional turmoil and deep, dark place this accident sent me free-falling into and does not really want me to have to go and re-live it to a judge in a trial setting, so they're willing to put out $2500 just to settle it...a $20,000+ suit. This implies absolutely no liability on my part whatsoever; it is basically going to be presented to the plaintiff in this case as "you will get more this way than if this went to trial because, really, you have no case and won't win anything."
There is a chance they might reject this offer or want more, in which case there might be some back-and-forth dealing with my insurance company but nothing that will affect me. However, in the case that my insurance company is not willing to settle for the amount they want just to keep me out of it, this will end up in trial.
I told my lawyer that I am very much a person of high ethical values and LOVE to fight on principle...but that I honestly don't know if I am, in this case and at this point in my life, strong enough to voluntarily go for it. He thinks my decision is correct considering the case and its aftermath in my life, and said that it is different for everybody. His saying that made me feel better, too...like I wasn't "wimping out" or "taking the easy route" because, if it does come down to it, which there always could be a possibility of that occuring, I will have to go and stand my ground.
I also really don't want to have to disrupt these three witnesses' lives to have them subpoenaed to testify for me. I would never be able to release that guilt of voluntarily asking that of these three strangers.
At least it wasn't a call telling me I had to show up in Nashville next Friday for trial at 10 a.m., which I feared it was. That will be continued to a later date as offer/counteroffer decisions have yet to be considered. It could take another couple of months. I feel a little better now, although it is not necessarily over yet.
It was interesting hearing what the witnesses themselves had said and what points of view they had (literally speaking). One was right behind me, one was right behind the auto suing me, and one was in the oncoming traffic lane. Each said I was clearly forced off the road; it was the man from oncoming traffic whose witness report has made me feel so much better about the split-second decision I made to swerve as opposed to let myself get hit by the car that fled the scene. He told the lawyer that he saw it coming and, as it occured he was "telling" me to swerve or that we would be hit into oncoming traffic and die. Of course, the subsequent events were horrifying but the fact is we all survived with, besides a broken back, relatively minor injuries considering the number of times we flipped at 60 mph. So that alone, after what has almost been two years this March, has put my mind somewhat at ease in that I really, truly did do what I was supposed to have done and that there was really, truly no other way out.
Sigh.
Regarding trial: My lawyer mentioned that there are many people who, upon learning that the other side really has no case, will take it to trial just so that they can't get anything at all. Most insurance companies, he added, will refuse to make any offer whatsoever if there is no fault on the part of their client and the case appears a clear loss for the opposing side. However, he said, my insurance company sees things a bit differently, understands the huge emotional turmoil and deep, dark place this accident sent me free-falling into and does not really want me to have to go and re-live it to a judge in a trial setting, so they're willing to put out $2500 just to settle it...a $20,000+ suit. This implies absolutely no liability on my part whatsoever; it is basically going to be presented to the plaintiff in this case as "you will get more this way than if this went to trial because, really, you have no case and won't win anything."
There is a chance they might reject this offer or want more, in which case there might be some back-and-forth dealing with my insurance company but nothing that will affect me. However, in the case that my insurance company is not willing to settle for the amount they want just to keep me out of it, this will end up in trial.
I told my lawyer that I am very much a person of high ethical values and LOVE to fight on principle...but that I honestly don't know if I am, in this case and at this point in my life, strong enough to voluntarily go for it. He thinks my decision is correct considering the case and its aftermath in my life, and said that it is different for everybody. His saying that made me feel better, too...like I wasn't "wimping out" or "taking the easy route" because, if it does come down to it, which there always could be a possibility of that occuring, I will have to go and stand my ground.
I also really don't want to have to disrupt these three witnesses' lives to have them subpoenaed to testify for me. I would never be able to release that guilt of voluntarily asking that of these three strangers.
At least it wasn't a call telling me I had to show up in Nashville next Friday for trial at 10 a.m., which I feared it was. That will be continued to a later date as offer/counteroffer decisions have yet to be considered. It could take another couple of months. I feel a little better now, although it is not necessarily over yet.
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