Day 14: Lucky or...

As a couple of you who are my super secret FB friends know, I walked out to my car this morning to find that one of my tires had gone flat.

Which is an unfortunate occurrence and definitely not something that I was looking forward to having happen. However, thinking about it it's actually a pretty good thing that I found my tire flat this morning.

Last night I had my class which goes until 8 pm. So I was driving home on I75 which, at least around here, is not very well lit. It goes over several bridges (which freak me out a bit anyway, I have a morbid fear of crashing on a bridge and my car being sent into the water) and it's a 20-30 minute drive from the college campus to my house.

I was about 5 minutes from my exit when I heard something hit my car on the right side. Sort of a flapping-tapping sound, like someone running something over the side panel or on the undercarriage. I slowed down and looked, trying to see if there was anything caught on my mirror or anything like that. I didn't see anything and the car didn't start behaving oddly. I've blown a tire while driving before, though not at highway speeds, and I know what it feels like. I made it all the way home, parked and went about my night.

My guess is that whatever I hit last night (there's sometimes debris on the highway which is easy to avoid in the day but harder at night though I'm a good driver if I do say so myself) punctured my tire. And I feel very lucky that it was a slow leak (obviously) and not a blow out because at 70-80 mph I'm certain I would have crashed.

And of course thinking about how lucky I was that my tire went flat when and how it did, it makes me think, 'Well is it really *luck*, just random draw of the universe, or is it that I wasn't meant to have an accident like that?' Not that I think angels were keeping my tire inflated or anything, but that...that there is a plan, like an outline and certain things are meant to happen in your life. And certain things are not meant to happen. And so they do or they don't, because that's the plan.

Saying it like that makes it sound like I don't think there's free will, which is not the case. We clearly have free will. It's one of the factors that makes us human. But maybe, like I said, there's a map and there are many ways that you can go but there are certain fixed points within each life that are meant to happen.

/witterings

We are currently living in someone's AU. Does this blow anyone's mind?

So maybe it's just me but I find it amusing/fascinating that I can trace the exact line of events that led to me being in an accident on Friday. First, for those of you who don't know, I'm fine. Totally, completely unharmed. My car lost the front bumper and had to be towed to the repair shop, but I'm driving my parents car and I wasn't cited by the police so it should just be that I have to pay my deductible and that's that. Not fun, but it could always be so much worse.

Right. So the first thing that led to this: My friend Donna is up north at her daughter's wedding. Our mutual friend Mary is taking care of Donna's cats, but Mary went away for the weekend and she asked me if I could stop in to Donna's on Friday and then Monday to do the food, water, litter pans. Of course I said yes, and I went there on my lunch hour on Friday.

The second thing: Eve called to say that she would be in the area (visiting her parents) and would be bringing Evesdottir (who remains the cutest baby on the planet, even after showing me an Really Incredible Amount of Poopy) by the paper afterward. So I decided to take my lunch a little early so that I would be sure to be back when they got there. Otherwise, I would have left for lunch 30 minutes later, and the guy who hit me would have been long gone onto whatever he was doing next.

The third thing: Donna recently moved and her street now ends directly on the main highway, U.S. 41. Normally I would take side streets from her house to a stop light, but it this case I took the most direct path and was going to turn right onto the highway because that was the fastest and easiest way to get my lunch and then head back to work.

Of course I can't see or say what decisions led the man to being at that same spot and deciding to change lanes without looking so that he scraped across my front bumper, but...I don't know. It's just so funny to look and see that if I had made any other decision none of this would have happened. If I had taken longer at Donna's, or less time. If I had done any number of things differently, it would all be different. It's just somehow fascinating to me. Somewhere out there there are alternate universes based off the different choices that I made.

Like I said, probably just me. :)

So here's some Black Widow and some Hawkeye. You're welcome.

I will put him in my pocket, people. And no one will blame me because how can such cuteness exist?

The Eldritch Horror Living In My Car

Saturday I had to take my dog to the vet. Routine shots, etc. No big deal, right?

I get there and the parking lot is more full than usual and I wind up parking in a different area from where I usually do. Next to some woods.

Well, I get out of the car and for some entirely *stupid* reason I leave my door open while I go in the back of the car to get Baby out. I get Baby on his leash and unhooked from the seatbelt, close the back door and turn to close my door. To find this:

CLIMBING INTO MY CAR!!!!!!!!!

So I stand there, one hand on the door, wondering if I swing the door really fast, will it catch the spider? And of course, in that hesitation, the damn thing crawls all the way into the car. I got to watch it scurry across my dashboard and then *fold itself* into the defrost vents for the windshield.

AHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm running on the theory that the spider has either crawled out of the car again, or crawled into the engine and died, or just dropped dead or spider related whatevers, because I haven't seen it again, and trust me I've been *looking*. I do not want to see him ever, ever again.

Spiders. Ugh. So. Gross.

yes, i'm a girl. that doesn't mean i don't know what i'm talking about...

Alright. So here's the story of my weekend.

Saturday, I get up and I'm wandering around the house in my pajamas at 8 in the morning, because it's Saturday, and the only plans for the day involve some yard work and then laundry. Then my sister calls. The press broke down and part of the paper didn't get out. So our boss wants to know if I can come in. I used to work in customer service, so even though I work legal advertising now, I can use the system if I have to, and one of the regular customer service girls was out of town with her family, so they needed the help.

I drove in, and on my way in the tire pressure light lit up in the car. Okay. I just got new tires on Myrddin at sears in mid-April. So it's weird that they need air already, but whatever. I go to work, work for a couple of hours until the insane rush is over, and then head out. My plan was to go by the gas station, check the tires, put air in and then go to the mall to get my hair cut. And while I was at it I figured I'd drop Myrddin off to get his oil changed at Sears because it'd be convenient that way. Well, I get to the gas station and I top off the two passenger side tires. Then I get to the left rear tire and when I attach the pressure gauge, I can hear air hissing *out* of the tire. I think, well I just didn't have it pressed in hard enough. No biggie, it's a little low, so I take the air hose and hook it up to add air. And *that* lets air out of the tire! Okay. Again, maybe I wasn't pressing hard enough. So I try it again. Air out. I check the tire with the gauge. Yes, definitely lower. Fine.

I move on to the left front tire, thinking maybe the nozzle on the end of the air hose broke. Nope. It worked perfectly for the front tire, just like it had for the other two. So there's something wrong with that left rear tire. Fine. Everything's covered under the new tires with Sears. I drove over to Sears and pulled in. I explained that I wanted an oil change, and I explained about the rear tire. Of course the guy says, 'well you just weren't pressing hard enough'. So, quite patiently, I explain that I did just the same thing I did on the other three tires, and I didn't have any issues with them. So there's something with that back tire. I ask if they could please look at the valve, and, being nice, I say, 'It might just have been me, but please just check it out and put some air in it since I definitely let air out?' So they agree and I go off to get my hair cut.

Forget the fact that one of the high schools is having their prom on Saturday night, so the salon is full of teenaged idiots who don't know how to fix their own damn hair. My car was done in half an hour, forty five minutes. Great. It took another half hour after *that* to get my hair cut. I go, pick up my car, and they say that they couldn't find anything wrong with the valve, but they put air in the tire, yadda. Fine.

I left, went home, did laundry and everything was fine.

This morning, I'm on the interstate on my way to church and guess what happens? Oh, you guessed it. The air pressure light went on! Son. Of. A. Bitch. Well, maybe they didn't put *enough* air in it. So I stop by the gas station, and lo and freaking behold, I can't put air in the left rear tire! It keeps letting air out! GRRRRRRRRRRR!

So rather than go to church, I turn and drive to the other end of town, to the mall, to Sears. The same guys are there this morning. I *know* that there is something wrong with the valve at this point. It has to be. I pull out my receipts from the new tires so I can prove that they rebuilt the valve stem cores when they put the new tires on, so whatever the problem is, it's their fault. The guy checks the pressure in that tire and says, 'Yeah, it is low.' NO. SHIT. SHERLOCK. BECAUSE I KEEP LETTING AIR OUT TRYING TO PUT AIR IN! But I remain calm, and explain the problem again. They look it up in the computer and see that they did replace the valve stem cores, etc. Fine. They take it and check the core, put air in the tire. Well, they say they don't have any problem putting air in the tire.

I DO NOT CARE! Their air hose is not the same kind that there is at gas stations. It's more powerful. I am not an idiot, and I know how to put air in my own tires. I can change my own tires too, or do a dozen other things on my car that I choose not to because I don't want to. It is more convenient for me to *pay* for someone to do those things. But that doesn't mean that I don't know what I'm talking about. So the very nice man says that they can change the valve stem core out anyway, just for my peace of mind.

Yes. You go ahead and do that. I'll wait.

While I'm waiting, seeing as how it is now 10:30 in the morning and I am obviously *not* going to make it to church, I call my friend Donna and ask her if she wants to meet me and go to an early lunch before the movies. We agree to meet around eleven and I head back into the auto shop. They're just finishing with the car, and the guy comes over and tells me that they replaced the core, but that they also found that when they put the hubcap on originally it was pressing against the air valve, which could have been putting pressure on the inside of it, causing the problem I was having.

*headdesk*

I ask if they put air in the tire. Yes. Okay, good. Thanks, bye now.

I drive out of Sears' parking lot, and the tire pressure light stays on. Sometimes, when the pressure's been low, it takes it a minute to register that it's been corrected. So I tooled around the mall parking lot. No joy. Okay. I decide that I'm going to just go to a gas station and try to put my own air in again. If it doesn't work, I'm going to go back to Sears and beat someone to death with a tire iron or something. Or just yell. Whatever seems to be most effective.

I pull into the closest station. I have no quarters. I get change, and go to use the air machine. It is broken and it eats one of my quarters. Dammit! So I pull out and am going to just go back to Sears. Then I spot a car wash. I figure, they have vaccums and such, so maybe they have air. They do. I go to put air in my tire and realize that I left the cap for the valve back in the gas station parking lot. *headdesk* Fine. One problem at a time. I turn the air on and try to put air in the tire.

IT WORKS! MY GOD, IT'S A MIRACLE!

So I take care of that, get in the car and the tire pressure light goes out. Awesome. I drive back to the gas station, and my valve cap is right there in the parking lot where I left it. I put it back on and drive off to meet Donna.

We go to get lunch, and I order half a sandwich and a cup of soup. Well, they accidentally give me a *bowl* of soup. The soup is yummy, so I eat it. :D

Then we went to see Priest, which was fun. Karl Urban and Paul Bettany cover a multitude of entertainment sins. Okay. Mostly Karl Urban. I'm sorry Paul, but there's just something about Urban that makes me go 'mmmmmmmmmm'. You're pretty too!

Then I went to the gym and worked out.

Now I'm home and I'm going to watch scary movies and write fanfic. Maybe another VBV post later.

Freaky Happening!

This is a funny story.

So, yesterday, while I was waiting for Myrddin to get his new tires, I went and saw the movie Insidious. Not particularly scary, but it was about a haunting. So I was in the ghost-y state of mind.

Around 7 pm or so, I was getting ready to change out the cat litter boxes. I brought the big bag of litter into the house and set it down next to the kitchen counter so I could get the garbage bags out from under the sink. As I'm bent over, pulling the bags out, I see the lid of our kitchen trash s l o w l y start to rise. So there I am, crouched over, looking at it and going, 'Oh crap!'

And then I realized that I'd set the bag of litter partially on the little pedal that raises the can lid. So as it settled, the lid was raised. Slowly. :D

School Days, School Days, *voice cracks*

Hey! Some crazy person took over my blog...certainly wasn't me...*hides Supernatural fanfic*

Well, anyway, we now return you to your regularly scheduled blog. :)

Okay, so, tomorrow is the first day of the Beginning Faith Class that I'm helping to teach. I had thought that it started next week, based on the calendar that the DRE sent out, but she apparently just doesn't mark the thing well enough. We've got classes from now through May, and we think we've got it fairly well planned, in the broad sense. It's a bunch of third graders, mostly, so 6/7 years old.

The general layout of the class is thusly:

Begin with an opening prayer, then have a best/worst of the week (the idea behind that is to get the kids to thank God for the good things, and ask for His help for the bad things). Then, we have the Word Box, which'll be for vocabulary. We've got the words all printed out, and we'll pull a word and learn the meaning. After that we go over the Gospel for the day (we've borrowed a missalette from the church, with permission of course) and then have a sort of q&a, explanation period, though I have doubts as to how many questions the kids will have, but then again I don't spend a ton of time with kids this age, so they may have more than I think. Plus, if they have a question we can't answer, we'll have an Ask Father Pat basket and write them out (and then ask Father Pat ourselves). Also, yes, as an amusing aside, we have an Irish priest named Patrick. Heh.

Then, a Letter to Jesus, which'll be sort of a journal kind of thing, with the kids being able to write out just, whatever they're thinking about, and Deb suggested that we can have anyone who wants to read it out loud do so, but again, I'm not sure about that, because, journal's are kind of private, so I don't know that the kids'll really want to read them to the class, but it's an option. *shrug* Deb and I'll also being doing this (a lead by example sort of thing, see).

Then a group activity - we've found some games, crosswords, etc. from www.catholicmom.com to use, plus, later in the year, after the kids have learned the prayers, we're going to be making the rosaries. We're going to find out what each kids favorite color is so their beads will be that color.

Going over the books (we have one for Reconciliation and one for Eucharist), plus learning the prayers, how to use the Bible, and other things.

And then a concluding prayer, and we return the kids to their parents. Then, freedom! :)

We'll also sort of tailor different lessons to the different seasons, leading up to Easter, Christmas, etc. Though I doubt I'll do it, I kind of really want to, when we're doing Christmas, and explaining who St. Nicholas is, and the Nativity, tell the story of Saint Nicholas punching Arius out. :) For some reason that story just makes me happy. *However* I'm assuming that most of these kids will believe in Santa Claus, so that's probably going to be out. And just as a personal aside, I don't like that. I mean, it's up to each parent, but I'm (should I ever get to have kids) not going to teach them Santa and the Easter Bunny. Those're commercial things that have taken away from the true meaning of those seasons, of those Holy Days. So...*blows raspberry* I'm not going to lie to my kids and tell them there's a jolly fat man living at the North Pole with a bunch of elves. I will, however, tell them about Saint Nicholas and yes, definitely him punching out Arius. And we can celebrate him on his day, December 6, then move on to the real reason for Christmas, which would be the Nativity!

And now for my tangent:

I was thinking about writting this post last night, just, vaguely forming what I wanted to say, and I went off on a tangent in my head about it! So you know it's bad...

There's a large-ish contingent in some forms of Protestantism (mostly evangelical, home churchy groups, I think, but it exists in the more settled denominations as well), that women can't teach. I'm also aware that this thought exists in Catholicism and probably other places as well. And...a while back, I was considering it, and whether or not that meant that I shouldn't teach this class. Clearly, I came down on the side of teaching.

Ideally, yes, religious education should be handled by the clergy and religious (priests, nuns, deacons). However, in my parish, we don't have enough religious to do this. If laypeople didn't teach, nothing would get taught. I'm teaching kids, not men. Now, would I teach a class of grown men? At this point, I'd say yes, if it was something I was confident in, and it was needed. My concern, in that case, would be the propriety and keeping modesty standards. To that end, I'd certainly never be alone with one of the men, and, of course, dressing as I do, I think that end's covered (badum-bum). And, of course, should a priest or a nun appear to take over the teaching, I'd happily step aside, because they have far more time to devote to this imaginary subject, and, as I said, I think ideally religious education should be handled by the religious.

I think that this aversion to women teaching comes from the whole, 'let women be silent in church' and, also, the headcovering, because in the same passage it asserts that then man is the head of the woman. So, 'headship'.

I admit it now, I don't get it. I've tried, Lord knows I have, to wrap my head around this concept, and what the hell it means. I even wrote something on it way back, but it's so convoluted and sense-less, that even as I wrote it I knew it didn't make any sort of sense.

I, clearly, believe in covering, for two reasons: modesty and because God commanded it. Why did God command it? Well, I don't know. My thoughts on this can change in an instant, I just know that He did, and it's a command I happily obey, even though I don't fully understand why. I also embrace the knowledge that there are simply some things, some positions, in the Church that I, as a woman, cannot hold. I cannot be a priest. Why? Because I have girly parts. But, really, because Christ is the High Priest, and all the priests that we have now are representative of Him. He set it up, men only. And I'm quite comfortable with that. I cannot be a deacon. Again, girly parts. (Though I do believe there used to be deaconesses, back when the Church practiced Baptism by immersion - the deaconesses were there for the women coming into the Church, as it would be inappropriate for a man to do that - but I haven't made a huge study of it, so there could be more to it.) Whatever. I'm comfortable with my limitations in this matter. I can't be a priest, I can't be a deacon, and I can't write my name in the snow without the use of my hands. Life moves on. :)

But, 'headship'. What is it? I mean, really, what does it mean?

Let's say, theoretically, that I'm married to a man who decides that infant Baptism is un-Biblical. Under my *limited* comprehension of 'headship', I'd have to follow his lead and just pray that God enlightens him. Except, clearly, my husband would be *wrong*. So why should I follow someone who's been mislead? Shouldn't I, even though I'm a woman, gently (not harping, cause that never works), present the evidence from the Bible and the Fathers and the Church that proves him wrong? Correct him? And if I can't do it, ask our priest to speak with him? (Because we would most certainly have a priest - I can't imagine marrying a man who's not either Catholic or Orthodox). Why should I allow my husband to lead us into error just because his bits dangle and mine don't? After all, I'm responsible for *my* relationship with God, with keeping myself in His Grace. So why should I let *anyone* lead me away from that?

And what about me, in reality? I have no husband, I have a father who (while he is a good man, and I love him), is not in the Church, and would, if I consulted with him on these sorts of things, give me answers that are definitely against Church teaching and that of the Fathers. So...what do I do? I've got no 'head', but God, and it's not like I can dial Him up and ask. I've got to rely on the Church and my own understandings. So 'headship' in the human, mortal understanding of the term is sort of useless to me at this point.

Here endeth my tangent.

Oh! End note: Plus side of the Swine Flu (H1N1, if you're insulted by the reference to Wilbur): I no longer have to dodge people trying to hold my hands during the Our Father at Mass. Our diocese has ruled that we're *not* to do this, because of health concerns, and also that the Sign of Peace is just to be verbal at this point, 'Peace be with you' and a friendly smile and nod. I no longer have to dodge random old ladies trying to hug me! I was okay with the handshake, but... hugging!

Right. Off to print out 20 copies of the Hail Mary, the Glory Be, the Our Father, the 10 Commandments, and our opening & closing prayers.

Oh, also, I'm going to switch to the 7:30 Mass, because my class is at 9, which is the Mass that I usually attend, and I don't like the 10:45 Mass, because it tends to be the 'charismatic' Mass, and, just no. Which means, at least this weekend, that since I'm dog sitting again, in the next town over from where I live, I've got to get up extra early to take care of the dogs, then drive a half hour (depending on traffic) to get to Mass on time, but of course I'm going to be early, because I'm not certain how well attended the early Mass is, and I don't want to get stuck parking Myrddin in the swale because I didn't get there in time.

My Weekend

To make myself happy, I took the weekend off.

Meaning, I did a whole lot of nothing. I did everything around the house I needed to do on Saturday morning, and then I spent the rest of the time watching Merlin and Leverage and Supernatural eps and went to the movies and saw District 9 (which I enjoyed).

I drove around a bit too. I *like* driving around in Myrddin. I talk to him a little. :)

The picture above was my brunch on Sunday. You fast for at least an hour prior to receiving Communion, so what I usually do is just eat a slightly larger meal after Mass, instead of getting up earlier to eat.

I made myself scrambled eggs with cheese and ham (it was supposed to be an omelet, but I got distracted and didn't flip it in time) and fried potatoes. Now, you may look at that and think, 'hmm...not very healthy' and you'd be right. Mostly. However, I make it with EggBeaters, reduced fat cheese (I forget the percentage, but it's good stuff), low salt/fat ham, 2% milk, the 'special' heart smart butter, and I don't fry the potatoes in grease. I make the eggs and then fry the potatoes in the leavings of the egg pan, with a little Season All.

Myrddin the Car

Ladies (and any gentlemen who may be out there),

Allow me to introduce Myrddin, my new car.

And not just new to me, but *new* new.

*pauses to squee*

Myrddin is my first brand spankin' new car, bought with no (monetary) help from anyone else (read, parents). Just me, the Handbasket (previous car), and the credit union.

Woot!