So tonight Jon Stewart had a segment about blogs and how the titles of political blogs are a bit more "intense" than the topic warrants, siting blog titles that use terms like "eviscerates" for situations that are actually quite reasonable and polite.
After the break, he had a funny segment in which he showed President Barack Obama being addressed by a man named Dick Sweat, who's apparently a well-known politician in his area. Naturally, the segment poked a bit of fun at the man's unfortunate moniker - paired with pretty hilarious spit-take attempts.
I, incorrigible dork that I am, just had to combine the two ideas into the title of this blog. Goofy, yes. But it made ME laugh, at least!
(Check out The Daily Show with Jon Stewart online.)
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Team CoCo updates, link roundups here
In case you missed it, there are lots of great links out there about this whole fiasco. I thought I'd try to collect some of my favorites here. Please leave comments if you think I've missed something (but let's be honest, I don't really CARE if I miss any pro-Leno links).The Week Late Night Went to War has been a hotbed of controversy. Some late night talk show hosts have addressed it head-on, while others have seemed to essentially steer away from the drama. I felt sorry for the endearing Jimmy Fallon when he mentioned it on his show. He seemed almost like a little kid whose parents are divorcing and asking him which parent he loves more. But overall, the resulting comedic material has been entertaining as hell. Last night, January 14, was spectacular. I think I may be a little in love with Jimmy Kimmel right now! Watch The Late Night Wars Reaches Its Boiling Point: All the Clips You Missed and tell me what you think of Kimmel's comments.
Market Watch writer Jeff Friedman asks an excellent question: Why is Jeff Zucker still running NBC?
Aptly named DICK Ebersol defended Leno to a New York Times reporter. Dick seemed to think it was more important and effective to support Leno by ripping into Conan. Lovely.
You know, what with Zucker making such ugly threats as keeping Conan off all of television for over three years, it almost seems like he's got some sort of ax to grind with Conan. Oh, wait, what's that? Zucker had Conan arrested in 1985 at Harvard? Nahhh, nobody with any maturity or intelligence holds a grudge for that long, right?
A Wall Street Journal writer wrote a really interesting essay about Why Some Comics Aren't Laughing at Jay Leno. As a big fan of stand up, and as a beginning comedianne myself, I have to say I agree with pretty much every point made in the article. I do remember a time when Leno was funny and sharp-witted. But I guess you can't expect much from a man who doesn't regret eavesdropping on his bosses.
I find it disheartening when I have to compare the pre-power-hungry Jay Leno to the man he seems to be now - a man who could have ended this whole debacle before it began by simply bowing out gracefully. It would appear, though, that he learned nothing from his own experience 17 years ago. Read Jay Leno, NBC, and Conan: A History of False Promises, Treachery and Doublespeak to see what I mean.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Conan v. Leno debate
Yeah, I know EVERYONE seems to be blogging about it. Twitter has seen lots of action with trending topics like "Conan" and "Leno", plus hashtags like #teamconan, #teamcoco and #imwithcoco. Clearly, while it may not be the most important news story in the history of mankind, it's a fairly popular topic of conversation. I'll tell you right now - I'm on Team Conan.
If you aren't quite familiar with what all the fuss is about, you can read all about it on "Everything You Need To Know About The Conan/Leno Drama In One Easy Post".
It's been a wild ride on the late night circuit all-around. Conan hasn't shied away from the drama, and neither have his guests. The Tonight Show With Conan O'Brien has been (in my opinion) consistently funny yet poignant in the wake of this time of uncertainty. From the opening monologues to the closing credits, everyone at the Tonight Show seems to be almost resigned yet unwilling to show weakness.
To be honest, I have ALWAYS disliked Leno. I thought David Letterman would've been the much better replacement for Johnny Carson, but even back then NBC seemed to have a hard-on for Leno. Honestly, I almost wonder if Jay doesn't have some sort of incriminating information on the execs at NBC! Jay has made mention of the whole fiasco, too, apparently. (I simply can't stand him long enough to even suffer through his monologues generally, but for the sake of this blog I went back and watched. I really hope y'all appreciate my pain and suffering!) The Jay Leno Show has been craptacular - and that's not just my opinion, but the opinion of many NBC affiliates, obviously.
There has, in all of this madness, been one time I really enjoyed Jay Leno. That one time was when Jimmy Kimmel Live did an entire show AS Jay Leno (episode 7164). Honestly, it's the first time I've laughed at Leno in years (or maybe ever). Kimmel is slated to be a guest on Leno's show tonight. I may have to have a few drinks so I can sit through Jay's show just to see what happens. Will Jimmy flat out ask Jay "why the hell don't you just retire?" I suppose we'll have to wait and see.
The latest announcement in the shitstorm that NBC has created over their late night programming is NBC's head honcho, Jeff Zucker, has threatened to keep Conan "off the air for 3.5 years".
With this latest development, it seems clear to me that NBC knows it's fucking over Conan O'Brien and doesn't even have the decency to attempt an appearance of professionalism or basic human courtesy. Conan moved not only his wife and children across the country for this opportunity, but also was supported by staff also packing up and moving from NY to CA. I can't speak for you, but I can't really think of a single boss I've ever had that inspired such loyalty that would make me say "hey, I know, let's move thousands of miles from the home I've had for years so I can continue to work with you."
The letter that Conan penned, expressing his love for The Tonight Show, seemed to me to be genuine and heartfelt. I respect the fact that he refuses to go along with shitting on what is, ostensibly, an American institution of television. If Steve Allen, Jack Parr and Johnny Carson are watching all of this drama unfold from Heaven, I have a feeling they are all proud of Conan's determination to honor and respect the history of the show into which they all poured so much of themselves.
Some will say that Jay Leno isn't in any way responsible for all of this madness, that he was pushed out of the Tonight Show before he was ready to leave, etc. To those people I point out the following fact: both in this instance and in the 1992 Letterman situation, there are two commonalities - NBC suits and Jay Leno.
How can ANY entertainer, ANY potential television program creator, ever want to deal with a network that has shown, time and again, that it has no respect for its talent?
If you are on Team Conan, I propose the following: send mail (actual, old-fashioned snail mail) to Jeff Zucker at NBC. Conan is recognizable by his hair, so rather than just sending postcards, I propose we send hair products - pomade, mousse, hair gel, etc. You can get travel sizes if shipping costs are an issue. I propose this because letters and postcards are too easy to simply toss. Packages require manpower to open and sort through. Sound crazy? Hey, tell that to the fans of Jericho who got closure with more episodes by mailing 25 tons of nuts to CBS!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Fighting for that "Gratitude Attitude"
As you may or may not know, many years ago I created a website to reach out and offer peer support to other mothers who understood what it's like to experience PostPartum Mood Disorders (the main web page is at http://www.ppdsupportpage.com/ if you would like to visit, but I've not been great about updating it). I sometimes journal there, and the following is the body of my most recent entry. I thought it might be worth sharing here.
Hmm, shall I try to remember all the "disasters" that have befallen me since my last journal entry? In no particular order, my dishwasher died, my laptop had SMOKE coming out of it when in use and is now in pieces waiting for a part that my DH ordered from China or something so it won't be fixed for a while, and I guess the "big" one is that I rolled and totalled my car (which, by the way, was just paid off earlier this year) a mere four days before my 39th birthday. There were a few other smaller "oh crap!" things, but I think those are the highlights.
I'm still doing physical therapy for my foot/ankle injury and still having to deal with nerve damage issues. I do have some more feeling in the foot, but the feeling that has come back is all pretty much just pain. For example, the simple act of a light touch on portions of my foot (which would normally feel soothing or ticklish) HURT like crazy. Putting on a sock is sort of like ripping a reeeeeally sticky bandage off.
It's also prime time for me to have my big fibromyalgia flare-ups, which happens whenever the weather changes fairly drastically (so let's just say the change of seasons is more than just watching the trees do their thing for me). I've sometimes described fibromyalgia as being a bit like arthritis for the muscles, tendons and tissues of the body. I've also sometimes described the pain as feeling like someone's beaten parts of me with a bag of hammers. In other words, ouch!
DH still doesn't have a job, and I obviously am not suitable for the work force, so money is...well, let's just say I'm pretty much constantly on edge about all things money.
This week is a hard one because Friday would've been Daddy's birthday, and Sunday would've been my parents' anniversary (their 57th, I believe, if Daddy were still around). So that's on my mind.
Now, given alllllll this crapola, you'd think I'd be depressed as hell. Well, you'd be right...to a point. But today I changed the title of my journal to "Fighting for that 'Gratitude Attitude'" for a reason. I changed the title to reflect the way I want to approach the challenges I face.
I've got a lot to be thankful for, even in the face of all that's gone wrong in my life.
Yes, I totaled my car that we'd finally paid off. But when that wreck happened I was going with the flow of heavy traffic on the interstate at about 65mph. I hit something on the road, had a blow-out of my front right tire, went up an embankment, hit tree branches at the top, turned at some point, and rolled back down. My car landed on it's wheels, my right foot's toe wedged UNDER the brake pedal and the heel wedged on TOP of the gas pedal. The motor was still running and revved up, and I was now FACING thick oncoming 65mph interstate traffic. But I'd landed against a guardrail which prevented me from driving full throttle into oncoming traffic. My car was totaled, but aside from a bit of bruising from the seatbelt, bruising on my legs from the dash and steering wheel, bruising on my shoulder from slamming against the door, and general trouble from mid-back up...I was okay. I didn't hurt anyone else outside of my car, and I was alone inside of my car.
IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH WORSE. I could have left my children without a mother that night. When I'd told my DH goodbye that evening, it could have been the last time.
Sometimes I know my friends get a bit annoyed with me, because when I speak about anything that's gone wrong in my life, I almost always preface it by saying "it could always be worse". But if I ONLY thought about the bad things, I'd be miserable all the time (in spite of the fact that I'm a Prozac-for-life woman). Now, don't get me wrong - it's not always easy (and sometimes, on my bad days, not even doable). It can be REALLY hard work to shut down the "stinkin' thinkin'" that often circles around in my head. It can be REALLY hard to challenge the negative talk I sometimes give myself.
Some things are WORTH the hard work, and retraining my brain to challenge the negative, to strive to find the positive, is WORTH it.
Yes, my foot is painful...but I still have a left foot, and pain means I'm getting back some of the nerve activity that I thought might be gone forever. Yes, my dishwasher is broken...but I have two hands. Yes, my computer is broken...but I can get a little time on a computer elsewhere. Yes, I totaled my car...but no one was seriously injured or worse, including me. Yes, my house is messy...but I have a roof over my head. Yes, sometimes I feel lonely...but I can find a way to reach out to a friend or a family member or a neighbor or even a stranger at the grocery store, and if I can help someone else or brighten someone else's day it makes me feel better and a little less lonely.
I'm not always successful at it, but I'm fighting for it - fighting for that "Gratitude Attitude".
I hope you'll fight for that, too.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
How to Total Your Car in One Easy* Step
Just between you and me, I'll be kind of glad when 2009 is over. So far this year my husband lost his job (and decided to use this time to finally follow his nearly life-long dream of being an author) and also was hospitalized with some stomach issues. This year I dislocated my ankle and broke my leg the first weekend of July, resulting in plenty of pain and nerve damage, of course, but also in my missing out on what would have been my first San Diego Comic Con, my 20th High School Reunion, my kids' first day of school, and even prevented me from the simple but important act of picking out a birthday card for my daughter's 15th birthday. You might thing "wow, that's a lot for one woman to deal with in a year". You'd be right, but that doesn't mean more crap can't happen!
On the night of November 3, I got into my car for the first time since the night I broke my leg back in July. I've always loved my Subaru, with it's extra perks like heated leather seats and 6 CD changer. We got brand new when my son was just a toddler and my daughter was still in elementary school. I'd been a used-car gal since I first started driving, so having something brand new was a treat all its own. I've hauled my kids to scout meetings, day camps, school functions, the park, and so on. There are a lot of memories associated with that car, which often felt my home away from home since I was in it so often.
Maybe if I'd known November 3 was also going to be the LAST night I'd ever drive my car I would have taken more time to appreciate it (and, honestly, some time to clean out all the clutter that's often associated with a Mom car).
I was driving southbound on the interstate with the intention of visiting my friend Lois, who lives about 1 1/2 to 2 hours away. Her son David and his girlfriend were going to hop on a plane the next morning and move to another state, where they will hopefully have a good chance to get decent jobs and housing. It was about 6:00pm on a cold but clear evening and traffic was thick but moving. I was in the far right lane, and even as a slow lane we were still going between 60 and 65.
One minute I was focusing on making sure there was plenty of space between me and the vehicle in front of me. The next minute, my steering wheel jerked HARD to the right, and I was just hanging on and trying to stop. This won't be easy to describe, because honestly, it was as if things were going on all at once yet in slow motion at the same time, but I'll do my best. Some things I specifically remember experiencing or sensing, and other things are sort of after-the-fact realizations. I'll go ahead and apologize in advance if some of this stuff doesn't make sense.
My car veered off the road to the right and up an embankment in a spot where there was no guardrail. At the top of the embankment was a fence and a lot of young trees, and I remember seeing tree branches slapping against my windshield. The next thing I experienced was the taste of dirt on the air. I remember thinking that was weird, and then realized it was suddenly much colder inside the car. I noticed that the things in my passenger side seat were in the air, and it looked like clothes in one of those big dryers at the laundry mat. I remember thinking "oh, I must be rolling. That's not good." That's when I felt clods of dirt and grass raining down on my head. The rolling had busted my moon roof.
I landed with a thud right side up, but at some point I'd spun because I was now facing southbound traffic. I heard a roaring sort of sound, and at first I thought it was probably my heart racing. Then I realized the front half of my right foot was wedged underneath the brake pedal, and the roaring sound was being caused by my having my right heel wedged on top of the gas pedal pressing it all the way down. The motor was still running, and I didn't learn until later that I'd landed against a guardrail. Almost as soon as the car stopped rolling there was a man with a cell phone heading towards my car. He said something I couldn't hear, and I pressed the button for my front side windows - in hindsight I can't believe they worked! - and he repeated himself. "Are you okay? I'm on with 911. Help is on the way." My response to his question was "did I hurt anyone?" In that moment, that was my biggest fear. He said no, that it was only me, and that's when the shaking and the tears started for me.
Another car with a young couple had also pulled over and were trudging up to the car to ask if I was alright. I kept telling them I thought I was okay but definitely shaken up. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called my husband. I don't remember what I said for sure, but it was along the lines of "I rolled the car" or "I wrecked the car". Naturally he freaked out and said he'd be right there, but I didn't know precisely where I was, so I said "just look for the trashed Subaru and some flashing lights". The woman from the second stopped car advised me to hang on a moment, and she figured out the precise location with the GPS on her cell phone so I could tell my husband where to find me.
About this time I noticed in my peripheral vision a couple of men walking around the slope of the embankment behind me, and it was then I realized my whole back window was gone. The men were out there picking up things that had come out of my car and were putting them back in through the missing back window. There was a bit of time when I focused on little things: I realized my headlights were on and turned them off to avoid blinding oncoming traffic, I called my friend Lois to tell her I was sorry but I wouldn't be there after all, I figured my car might be in bad shape so I started picking things up around the inside of the car and putting them into bags or baskets or whatever I could find, I found my purse and strapped it on so I wouldn't forget it.
Soon there were plenty of flashing lights. Apparently when you call 911 about a car accident they ALL come running. The firemen were sent away (no, I do not know if any of them were "hot" or not). The EMTs helped me get out of my car, which was a challenge since it was on the up side of the incline and I've still got limited feeling in my foot so I'm still using a cane. I don't think I gently leaned on the poor EMTs for help so much as I probably dislocated his shoulder from holding on so tight.
My sense of humor is one of my coping mechanisms, apparently, so when the EMTs were asking how I could best get on the road side of the guardrail my brain comes up with "I'm a farm girl, I can handle a fence." (Maybe they should have checked me for a concussion...) Their "examination" of me consisted of asking me if I was hurting anywhere, if I could please spell my first and last name, if I could give them my date of birth, and if I could tell them where I live. They talked to me a bit about why I needed the cane and made an effort to help me calm down a bit. They really were wonderful to me, but I do think I was still pretty adrenaline-packed, so I'm not sure how long they stayed with me. I know they stuck around until the police officer was free enough that they could hand me off to the cop. They asked if I felt I needed to go to the hospital, and I think I said something about feeling okay but going if they felt it was necessary. They essentially responded by wishing me well and driving away, which I took to mean I was going to be just fine.
The police officer on the scene was wonderful to me, too. I was sitting on the guardrail and shivering. He said I should sit in his squad car until my husband got there, and that he had some paperwork for me to fill out anyway. He led me to the car and we bypassed the front door. He explained that the front seat was full of stuff so I'd have to sit in back, but said "don't worry, there's no handcuffs involved." His little touches of humor combined with empathy really helped me calm down, and the paperwork was a good way to distract me and help me breathe. On a side note, I recommend only really short-legged people commit crimes, and that they do so alone, because the back seat of a squad car has NO leg room! I had to sit nearly with my back against the door and legs up in the seat.
My husband finally arrived, so I switched and got into his truck to finish up the paperwork. He got out and looked at the car, talked to the police officer, and essentially took over so I could sit in the truck and have my nervous breakdown in peace. I tried to get out of the truck a couple of times, but he discouraged me. I realize now he was worried if I saw the car - truly looked at it and saw how very damaged it was - I'd crack. So I sat in the truck, called home to the kids to try and let them know I was doing fine but the car was another story, used my iphone to get on Facebook and Twitter to let people know the bare minimum ("I totaled my car, but I'm okay - more later", essentially), and did a lot of praying and thanking the universe for my safety.
The next day we went to the lot where my car had been towed (they had to use two different tow trucks, because the car was wedged into the guardrail in such a way that they needed to LIFT the thing up and over the rail before they could put it on the bed of the tow truck). The following are the photos I took of the car that day.
Some may think I'm crazy, but it's worth mentioning all the same. Seconds before I hit whatever that mystery road debris, an image popped into my head. The image was of me and my Dad on my last visit to see him alive. He made me sit on his lap (which involved the arm of the chair and lots of "hovering'), pulled me to his chest, cradled my head in the crook of his neck, held me close, rocked me and sang the song I'd made up when I was about 3 years old. The lyrics are "Daddy's little angel, yes I was. Daddy's little angel, yes I was." For no "obvious" reason, THAT is the image that popped into my head immediately prior to the accident. Some might call it a coincidence. I'm not an overtly religious person, but I am a spiritual one. I personally believe that it was my Dad, letting me know that he was with me and would keep me safe.
*Easy - to quote Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride, "I do not think it means what you think it means".
On the night of November 3, I got into my car for the first time since the night I broke my leg back in July. I've always loved my Subaru, with it's extra perks like heated leather seats and 6 CD changer. We got brand new when my son was just a toddler and my daughter was still in elementary school. I'd been a used-car gal since I first started driving, so having something brand new was a treat all its own. I've hauled my kids to scout meetings, day camps, school functions, the park, and so on. There are a lot of memories associated with that car, which often felt my home away from home since I was in it so often.
Maybe if I'd known November 3 was also going to be the LAST night I'd ever drive my car I would have taken more time to appreciate it (and, honestly, some time to clean out all the clutter that's often associated with a Mom car).
I was driving southbound on the interstate with the intention of visiting my friend Lois, who lives about 1 1/2 to 2 hours away. Her son David and his girlfriend were going to hop on a plane the next morning and move to another state, where they will hopefully have a good chance to get decent jobs and housing. It was about 6:00pm on a cold but clear evening and traffic was thick but moving. I was in the far right lane, and even as a slow lane we were still going between 60 and 65.
One minute I was focusing on making sure there was plenty of space between me and the vehicle in front of me. The next minute, my steering wheel jerked HARD to the right, and I was just hanging on and trying to stop. This won't be easy to describe, because honestly, it was as if things were going on all at once yet in slow motion at the same time, but I'll do my best. Some things I specifically remember experiencing or sensing, and other things are sort of after-the-fact realizations. I'll go ahead and apologize in advance if some of this stuff doesn't make sense.
My car veered off the road to the right and up an embankment in a spot where there was no guardrail. At the top of the embankment was a fence and a lot of young trees, and I remember seeing tree branches slapping against my windshield. The next thing I experienced was the taste of dirt on the air. I remember thinking that was weird, and then realized it was suddenly much colder inside the car. I noticed that the things in my passenger side seat were in the air, and it looked like clothes in one of those big dryers at the laundry mat. I remember thinking "oh, I must be rolling. That's not good." That's when I felt clods of dirt and grass raining down on my head. The rolling had busted my moon roof.
I landed with a thud right side up, but at some point I'd spun because I was now facing southbound traffic. I heard a roaring sort of sound, and at first I thought it was probably my heart racing. Then I realized the front half of my right foot was wedged underneath the brake pedal, and the roaring sound was being caused by my having my right heel wedged on top of the gas pedal pressing it all the way down. The motor was still running, and I didn't learn until later that I'd landed against a guardrail. Almost as soon as the car stopped rolling there was a man with a cell phone heading towards my car. He said something I couldn't hear, and I pressed the button for my front side windows - in hindsight I can't believe they worked! - and he repeated himself. "Are you okay? I'm on with 911. Help is on the way." My response to his question was "did I hurt anyone?" In that moment, that was my biggest fear. He said no, that it was only me, and that's when the shaking and the tears started for me.
Another car with a young couple had also pulled over and were trudging up to the car to ask if I was alright. I kept telling them I thought I was okay but definitely shaken up. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called my husband. I don't remember what I said for sure, but it was along the lines of "I rolled the car" or "I wrecked the car". Naturally he freaked out and said he'd be right there, but I didn't know precisely where I was, so I said "just look for the trashed Subaru and some flashing lights". The woman from the second stopped car advised me to hang on a moment, and she figured out the precise location with the GPS on her cell phone so I could tell my husband where to find me.
About this time I noticed in my peripheral vision a couple of men walking around the slope of the embankment behind me, and it was then I realized my whole back window was gone. The men were out there picking up things that had come out of my car and were putting them back in through the missing back window. There was a bit of time when I focused on little things: I realized my headlights were on and turned them off to avoid blinding oncoming traffic, I called my friend Lois to tell her I was sorry but I wouldn't be there after all, I figured my car might be in bad shape so I started picking things up around the inside of the car and putting them into bags or baskets or whatever I could find, I found my purse and strapped it on so I wouldn't forget it.
Soon there were plenty of flashing lights. Apparently when you call 911 about a car accident they ALL come running. The firemen were sent away (no, I do not know if any of them were "hot" or not). The EMTs helped me get out of my car, which was a challenge since it was on the up side of the incline and I've still got limited feeling in my foot so I'm still using a cane. I don't think I gently leaned on the poor EMTs for help so much as I probably dislocated his shoulder from holding on so tight.
My sense of humor is one of my coping mechanisms, apparently, so when the EMTs were asking how I could best get on the road side of the guardrail my brain comes up with "I'm a farm girl, I can handle a fence." (Maybe they should have checked me for a concussion...) Their "examination" of me consisted of asking me if I was hurting anywhere, if I could please spell my first and last name, if I could give them my date of birth, and if I could tell them where I live. They talked to me a bit about why I needed the cane and made an effort to help me calm down a bit. They really were wonderful to me, but I do think I was still pretty adrenaline-packed, so I'm not sure how long they stayed with me. I know they stuck around until the police officer was free enough that they could hand me off to the cop. They asked if I felt I needed to go to the hospital, and I think I said something about feeling okay but going if they felt it was necessary. They essentially responded by wishing me well and driving away, which I took to mean I was going to be just fine.
The police officer on the scene was wonderful to me, too. I was sitting on the guardrail and shivering. He said I should sit in his squad car until my husband got there, and that he had some paperwork for me to fill out anyway. He led me to the car and we bypassed the front door. He explained that the front seat was full of stuff so I'd have to sit in back, but said "don't worry, there's no handcuffs involved." His little touches of humor combined with empathy really helped me calm down, and the paperwork was a good way to distract me and help me breathe. On a side note, I recommend only really short-legged people commit crimes, and that they do so alone, because the back seat of a squad car has NO leg room! I had to sit nearly with my back against the door and legs up in the seat.
My husband finally arrived, so I switched and got into his truck to finish up the paperwork. He got out and looked at the car, talked to the police officer, and essentially took over so I could sit in the truck and have my nervous breakdown in peace. I tried to get out of the truck a couple of times, but he discouraged me. I realize now he was worried if I saw the car - truly looked at it and saw how very damaged it was - I'd crack. So I sat in the truck, called home to the kids to try and let them know I was doing fine but the car was another story, used my iphone to get on Facebook and Twitter to let people know the bare minimum ("I totaled my car, but I'm okay - more later", essentially), and did a lot of praying and thanking the universe for my safety.
The next day we went to the lot where my car had been towed (they had to use two different tow trucks, because the car was wedged into the guardrail in such a way that they needed to LIFT the thing up and over the rail before they could put it on the bed of the tow truck). The following are the photos I took of the car that day.
Some may think I'm crazy, but it's worth mentioning all the same. Seconds before I hit whatever that mystery road debris, an image popped into my head. The image was of me and my Dad on my last visit to see him alive. He made me sit on his lap (which involved the arm of the chair and lots of "hovering'), pulled me to his chest, cradled my head in the crook of his neck, held me close, rocked me and sang the song I'd made up when I was about 3 years old. The lyrics are "Daddy's little angel, yes I was. Daddy's little angel, yes I was." For no "obvious" reason, THAT is the image that popped into my head immediately prior to the accident. Some might call it a coincidence. I'm not an overtly religious person, but I am a spiritual one. I personally believe that it was my Dad, letting me know that he was with me and would keep me safe.
*Easy - to quote Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride, "I do not think it means what you think it means".
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