Car crashes are kind of like Rock, Paper, Scissors

Once, when I was in high school, I was riding with my mom, my sister, and my Granny in Granny’s Sequoia. As we crossed an intersection, we got rammed right on the driver’s side by an Escalade.

We spun around a time or two, and had to of course then talk to police and report everything. But, other than the goose egg on my forehead I got from hitting the window, we were all unscathed. The Sequoia was completely drivable, so we continued on to our original destination: Granny’s favorite place for lunch in Charleston.

Not much can stand between our family and food!

While the Sequoia needed body work and repairs done to the side, the Escalade’s engine and front were in all sorts of shambles. That was when my mom decided she wanted a Sequoia when the time came to replace our minivan.

Sequoia beats Escalade.

When I downgraded my 4Runner to a Honda Fit for the gas mileage, I remember lamenting to Boyfriend how I miss driving an SUV. SUVs win in car accidents. I feel safer in an SUV, especially with all these F350s driving around.

As if in agreement with me, a Jeep Wrangler decided to crash into the back of my poor little Fit, and push it into the back of a GMC.

Let’s say the Wrangler is the rock, and the GMC is the other rock, and the Fit is like the scissors but more like a pair of plastic scissors. They both drove away with bumper damage, but my little Fit…

It’s just so little, and so easy to push around.

The funny part of this is: The girl who hit me has Farmers Insurance. Everyone I spoke to was pleasant and helpful enough; however, they only paid for three days of a rental car from the day they gave me the estimate. Not from the day they paid me for damages; not from the day they gave me the money to actually be able to buy a replacement car. No: from the day they told me how much they would give me.

Words are basically money. I should try buying a car just by telling them how much I’ll give them.

I’m sure it’d get me places.

(Shout out to State Farm — they were amazing through the whole process. Everyone I talked to was very helpful, and when I would get choked up because I didn’t understand what to do, they were all sorts of comforting and reassuring–maybe because everyone I talked to was female!)

Aside from the irreplaceable sentimental value of the car (I bought it off of Aunt W a month or two before she passed, after she realized how expensive funerals are), it lost very little off-the-lot value.

Which means I’m pretty set on replacing it with another Honda Fit.

Its hatchback is as close as I can get to being able to haul stuff, but not pay a truckload at the gas pump.

I’ll just have to keep an eye out for Jeeps following me.

(As part of my recovery process, I listened to Knocked Down, But Not Knocked Out. If you feel like you’ve just been hit by a truck, it’s worth a listen.)

I was dazed for 30-60 seconds after the airbag socked me in the face, but they build cars to keep you safe and this did its job.

I was dazed for 30-60 seconds after the airbag socked me in the face, but they build cars to keep you safe and this did its job.

She tried swerving, which is why things like my right leg and my left arm hurt. I'm all twisted.

She tried swerving, which is why things like my right leg and my left arm hurt. I’m all twisted.

The right headlight was still attached, again, because of the Jeep swerving. The there was no salvaging the frame.

The right headlight was still attached, again, because of the Jeep swerving. But there was no salvaging the frame.

“Name five things inside your refrigerator right now and how you feel about them.”

What?

These prompts are the weirdest.

Tomatoes – I think they give me heartburn. But they taste good, so…I feel like I’m self-destructive? I like to live on the edge.

Beer – Good for the soul, and your gut. Seriously. If I drink a beer, I feel better the next day. It’s weird and awesome. And I don’t care if it is mental. I feel great about it. And beer bread is delicious.

Cheese – I have self-diagnosed milk-product-intolerance. Now, before you go all doctor on me, let me just tell you that my romantic relationship vastly improved once I stopped consuming dairy. We’ll leave it at that. I feel slighted by cheese, because it’s so daggone delicious but it just won’t love me back.

A big pan of pesto pasta – Pesto is one of the greatest things in the world, and Aldi is currently selling it. Hallelujah chorus. Pasta is cheap. Two good things = one good thing. I feel like the math on that isn’t the greatest, but maybe it should be more of a multiplication anyway. Boyfriend exclaimed to me the other day, “You know what’s the greatest meal ever? Pesto and eggs! It’s so good! It’s like Heaven in a bottle!” After I smiled sweetly and said that’s why I love pesto so much because it goes with everything, I also suggested that eggs do not get eaten out of a bottle. That was not the end of that conversation, but I will move on here.

Chocolate syrup – The bargain brand kind. I’ve had it for a very long time, and will have it for a much longer time because I don’t keep ice cream in the house. I feel like I need to find a dessert recipe that calls for half a bottle of chocolate syrup so I can use it up, and then take said dessert somewhere where people will eat it.

Or just eat it myself. With a beer and some cheese and pesto and tomatoes.

Wow, that sounds delicious.

 

NaBloPoMo – If you had to switch your first name, what name would you choose and why?

(Disclaimer for my Dad: **Spoiler Alert** Dad, when you read this, just know that sometimes I go for comic effect, but I really like my name. It’s grown on me. HAHAHA I’m so funny. But really. It fits me perfectly. Also I’m glad you spelled it right.)

Growing up, I always wanted my name to be Elizabeth. Princess Elizabeth sounds SO much better than Princess Rachel.

Rachel is not a princess name. It doesn’t even rhyme with anything. The only thing it’s good for is winning the alphabet name game. It’s so ORDINARY.

There are so many of me! The worst was when one of the Rachels in half my classes in high school also had blonde curly hair. Now there was no way for people to tell us apart.

I know you Sarahs and Emilys can understand me on this. But at least your names mean Princess and Hard Working. I would take either of those.

Rachel means Ewe. As in, Ew look at that bug.

Ewe. Like the sheep.

What.

My older sister’s name is Heather. That’s a perfectly princess name. Princess Heather rolls right off that red thing in your mouth. It has the added benefit of being a type of flower. Who doesn’t love flowers? Even if you’re allergic, you have to admit you like looking at them.

Then there’s Savannah the Younger. Vast desert wastelands aren’t your thing? They weren’t my dad’s either. He only agreed to use the name after one of his favorite football players used it first. That’s such a cool reason for a name.

I approached my dear dad one day, demanding the reasons behind my terribly boring name. It was his call, after my mom named my older sister, and he had full responsibility for this atrocity.

“Well,” said Dad, “I always liked the story of Jacob and Rachel from the Bible. Jacob loved Rachel from the moment he met her, and he was devoted to her her entire life, and long after she died he remembered the love he had for her.”

If you ignore the Leah person in the tale (and how Rachel treated her in a very selfish jerk manner, and how Jacob was very ungracious with the situation, and how her dad Laban forced her into a lifelong lesson of learning that a man’s love does not complete you (which is a great lesson, but the situation was pretty awful)) it’s a heartwarming love story.

Cool! I’m back on the Princess track!

One day, a gallant gentleman is going to spot me from across a room or mountain trail or beach or whatever, be completely smitten, take me out for a seafood broil or a nice salmon steak as he falls in love with me based on my ability to read a menu, propose under a waterfall as a cello plays in the background, and whisk me away for a Grecian honeymoon. Because, you know, he got really rich off of his uncle and has sheep money to spare.

Greece was totally in the undertones of the Biblical story. They were close-ish.

Well.

Well then..

Not only did Boyfriend not completely fall for me after our first conversation – which I don’t know why not, I’m sure I was ravishing – but his name is not Jacob, he did not work for 14 years to earn me (the nerve!), he couldn’t hack it on a farm, and he most definitely will not add me on as his second wife after he makes a drunken mistake.

He wouldn’t be opposed to 12 kids, but we are not only not having that many, we are doing it the old-fashioned way which is not the same as the Old Testament way of using your handmaiden as an alternate wife in the bedroom.

When you get down to the nitty gritty, I’m pretty glad I haven’t taken after my namesake too much.

Although the jury is still out on that life-long devotion part. And the wealthy part. I like both. Both favorites!

OK one is clearly more favorite than the other, but I had to throw in some Brian Regan for when Boyfriend reads this.

The point of this post, I think, is that I’m going to more than likely name one of my daughters Elizabeth.

She’ll probably hate it. And when she comes to me demanding why I laid this atrocity on her, I will patiently explain that I am trying to live vicariously through her and when she is old enough to get a job she can pay to change it.

As for the rest of my life as a plain old Rachel, you know what? I don’t have to have a rhyme-able name to be happy. I don’t have to have a name that is only .01% of the population to feel unique. I define my name, my name doesn’t define me.

Yeah, that’s definitely just a bunch of hooey balooey I’m saying to make myself feel better.

Whatever. I’ll totally dominate you at the alphabet name game. My middle name has four letters.

BRING IT.