Sunday, December 27, 2009
As many of you may have read on my Facebook updates Christmas Day, I spent lunch at the home of Sarah and Cara, Jeff's sister and brother-in-law. I got to meet the rest of his siblings and their children and was so honored to get an invite at the last minute.
After lunch, I was then in my car heading across the Golden Gate Bridge to join Amy, Josh, Brian and Anne in San Rafael for dinner. Because of an accident on Lombard Street (one of the main thoroughfares to get to the bridge), it took me 45 minutes in what is normally a 10 minute drive to get to the bridge from my house.
Already late, I finally made it to Amy's and Josh's. Checked my phone for messages and saw that Jeff called. Excited that he called on Christmas Day (and unable to see him as he had to work that day), I called him right back as I was unloading my contributions for dinner. Bad choice. As someone who knows the dangers of talking on cell phones while driving and walking across streets, I should have known better.
While I was chatting with Jeff, not paying attention to where I was walking in the dark (night had already fallen), I failed to negotiate the front step to the house and fell forward. Scraped the top of my wrist (as seen in the picture) and the knuckle below my pinky on my right hand. Amy immediately provided me hydrogen peroxide, cotton and bandages so I could tend to my wounds.
My ego hurt a lot more than the scrapes. All the worse for wear, I was still able to bowl the next afternoon, bandages and all. Even managed to get a 186 in one of my games. Consider me a Timex watch. I take a lickin' and keep on tickin'.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
While the picture is a bit to hard to see, my commute this morning on Highway 101 South from San Francisco to San Mateo had me behind for a few miles a white Toyota Celica GT Liftback, circa 1980. For a nearly 30 year old car, it had the typical rust and dents, but from an engine standpoint, it was in decent condition. I couldn't hear loud muffler noises, saw no jerky acceleration, or any blue smoke emitting from its exhaust. My Celica's color was a burnt metallic red.
The car will always hold a special place in my heart because it was the first car I made payments on. Dad actually bought the car (December 1979) and put the loan in his name. I'd pay Mom in cash the monthly car payments. She'd write the check and mail the check and voucher to the bank. It was the car I drove out with Sherman and buddy Stan to San Francisco in August, 1983.
I owned the car until April 1988, when I traded in the Celica for a 1988 Acura Integra LS, a car with its own historical significance (see October 17 blog posting).