Fender bender

And another nuisance. Three weeks ago, this woman bumped into my car. I was returning from school, with Yair sitting in the back, just taking a turn to drive into our parking space. She was backing out of hers, not checking her mirrors or looking over her shoulder (I just passed my driving test yesterday) when she crashed into my car's passenger side.

Grumpy, she got out of her vehicle, asked if "the baby" was hurt, then walked back to her Nissan Pathfinder to jot down her details on a piece of paper. She shortly apologized for not having her business card with her -- they had just stolen her wallet the night before.

To keep it short: I have been in touch with the insurance on an almost daily basis ever since. At least three times I retold the story, provided all the details, even faxed over a drawing of the accident. On Friday, the appraiser finally came to assess the damage. Then yesterday it turned out they haven't even decided on liability! And why is that? Because Mrs. Neighbor claims I was backing up too! I am still too stunned to actually stay calm. This is outraging. She is either blind or bold. I suppose she is both.

By tomorrow, the insurance will close its investigation and make a decision. I don't have any proof. I just hope the pictures of the damage clearly explain who hit whom, which force actually impacted on which car. Clearly, with a damage on the passenger side, I cannot really be the one to blame. Or can I?

Downhill

Did I mention that the interviews went great on Monday? Considering the fact they were my first interviews on American soil. But that was that. No follow-up phone call. No e-mail. And believe me, I wrote really fine thank-you notes to all the interviewers. Maybe not by the book, but surely individual.

I could tell myself that I don't really care. Because, after all, I'm generally convinced everything happens for a reason, and for the better. If they decided not to take me on, then at least I don't have to burden my days with two-hour drives in both directions. It makes life so much easier.

But the truth is: I do mind. Not because I wanted to hit the road so badly, but because I wanted to get accepted. Because now, I have to start all over again. Read the ads, write the cover letters, investigate who's the hiring manager, follow up if company X received my application. Over and over again. Who has power for that?

So for the time being, I'm keeping to books (just finished The Kite Runner and, finally! started the last Harry Potter) and housekeeping. And to the sweetest little boy on earth. No ambitions. I need a few days to put myself together again and dig myself out of the hole. But then I am going to tackle this job thing. Maybe all I really need to do is pass along my friend's line to potential employers, in case of doubt: "It's Jeanne, just hire her at her conditions :-)."

A bigger plan

Today I spent a great deal of my time thinking of my (supposed) future brother in law. He is a humorous, good-natured person, a young, talented carpenter who just graduated from a master course. Looking for a suitable new position, he meanwhile returned to his previous employer.

Fate had it that yesterday, while finishing up a piece of work, he moved his hand too close to a saw trying to remove a piece of wood. Two fingers got detached. Luckily, his co-workers immediately rushed over to help, and within a matter of minutes he found himself in a helicopter on his way to a hospital specialized in hand surgery. Another 5.5 hours later, during which doctors did a fine job reattaching the cut-off limbs to his hand, blood was back circulating in his fingers, and he could feel a slight pulse.

Thanks to his cool-headed, well-trained colleagues, he will be able to use his hand again eventually. Hopefully, he will also be able to return to his beloved profession. I am sending him lots of good thoughts and positive energy for a quick and uncomplicated recovery.

Somehow, I believe that everything happens for a reason. There is a bigger plan that puts everything into perspective, into a context of its own. But only later on will we see the whole picture, understand the reasoning behind it, the powers that be. If ever. At this stage, who knows what this accident was good for?

Love, Security, Routine

Today, we finally got to see a speech therapist with Yair. He has been stuttering for quite a while now, and since he talked like a waterfall before, telling all kinds of stories and whispering secrets into our ears, this is alarming all the more. We suspect the stuttering may be related to our moving to Berkeley, to all the changes we are currently going through. I actually thought that talking with him about the move as much as possible would be the wisest thing to do, but apparently it has just scared him and made his little world become insecure. After all, he is such a sensitive boy. And not even 2.5 years old.

Yael, the speech therapist, didn't really tell us anything new, anything we didn't already know. Stuttering is a common phenomenon in children his age. She played intensely with him for about half an hour, noted that the stuttering is rather mild and will most likely disappear over time, handed us a list of Dos and Don'ts that will help us support Yair's speech development the best we can, and wished us good luck. No therapy for kids under 4. But at least we got some expert advice before we leave. Hopefully, in a few months' time, things will have settled down and straightened out. Love, security, and routine are the keys.