Death of A Beloved Car

It was a good day in the Valdez Household over all.  Baby Valdez and his freshman football team had their first home game of the season against their longtime main rival . . . and tromped all over them.  (Baby Valdez is the affectionate moniker one of our senior daughter's friends assigned our son, Zachary, as the incoming youngest representative of our household.)  The game was quite entertaining, what I actually saw of it as I visited with other animated parents to my left and our kids' youth pastor and his delightful wife with their active baby son to our right.

My stash of air-popped corn and raisins kept my stomach company and amused one of our favorite mom's to no end.  She's waiting for a fish taco to come out of my purse at some point; I told her the weather is much too hot for safe fish storage right now.  Our boy executed a fantastic last-minute tackle early in the game and held his corner, forcing a foul at one point, each time he marched out on the field.  Oh, and I was surprised to discover that he is also the ball-handler during the extra point kick after a goal is scored.  What's that position anyway?  His good friend, Harrison, is in the starring role as kicker -- he went three for three.  Most impressive! 

On a personal note of interest, three different but equally important friends of good character, each with wildly divergent historical and emotional roles in my life, brought to my attention points regarding my writing and my basic nature which I needed to hear.  One of those cases where you didn't realize you needed something until it came about.  Though I personally solicited perspective in two cases, one instance arose from my writing itself.   While I experienced growing pains with regards to what I soaked in, the net result will yield a more conscientious author of the written word.  And one with a reinforced resolve to soldier on.  Specifics are not necessary, but it boils down to friendship and an open mind willing to expand in the right directions. 

While I chose yellow cake with chocolate frosting for my sugar fix yesterday, today I self-medicated with a small 150 calorie bag of my surprising new sugar go-to -- Pretzel M&M's.  One by precious one, the salty and the sweet of the package soothed my inner craving monster.

Thanks to Soehee at Tangerine Salon, I'm officially back on brunette turf.  But the locks need more growth before a sassy new cut can be had.  Bummer!  The unassuming and quite intelligent young lady at the counter has not yet heard if she'll be hired at the Nashville Public Library, thus fulfilling both of our life dreams, but I feel the chances are good for her.  I also passed out my blog address to them both.  If ever they needed to pass a bit of time with a few written online words.

My sister, Rebekah, and I are working on our own version of a treatment plan to help our baby brother, Gary, manage his anger and frustrations at ye olde mental hospital in lovely Napa Valley.  Since there aren't enough doctors and social workers to go around over there, and paperwork often ends up taking priority over clients due to state demands, we have to take matters into our own hands.  Between the two of us, we can garner his trust and attention, draw upon Rebekah's own therapy and experiences, and encourage brother dear to walk upright on his own.  My hopes are high.  My prayers . . . unceasing.

Finally, in other news we have the story of the unsuccessful suicide attempt in New York City's Upper West Side.  An obviously desperate and disturbed man plunged 400 feet before landing on a fire engine red Dodge Charger owned by a woman in New Jersey.  The now trashed car most likely saved his life.  I don't know if he's happy about that.  But I know the owner of the damaged-beyond-repair automobile is experiencing less than sympathetic feelings toward the death-defying victim to his own depression.  In a newspaper interview, she lamented the loss of the her sporty chariot, wondering why, oh why, out of all the vehicles in the big dark city, did he have to choose hers?  This mother of four mourned the loss of the car, calling it her 'baby.' 

Now, while the politically correct response here is she's due her feelings on this, am I wrong to arrive at the conclusion that she's a bit self-centered, apathetic, and warped?  Is the answer here too obvious, and therefore not the foregone ending one would think?  I'm wondering if the courts would allow her to sue this man if she decided to venture into that arena.  It all seems ludicrous to contemplate, but it is the present nature of our litigious and egocentric society.  Are these feelings of this Jersey housewife legitimate?  Has a lawyer already called her?

And this we call 'progress.'  The evolution of a society.