Four slightly related stories.

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First. I took my sweetie to work yesterday. My car was dead and I needed to use his to get to my tennis lesson (another of the stories). We left at 6:25. Yikes. I hadn't woken up before nine since we got home. But it was ok. The roads were practically empty, which is the whole purpose of going that early. We got there, he got out, I scrootched (technical term) over and drove away. When I got about a block down the road, I saw a guy on the side of the road pointing at me and then over my head.

I had visions of the boogie man riding my car like teen wolf and then realized that wouldn't happen during the day.

I looked in my rearview mirror and saw nothing. Still, if he was telling me something was behind me, I wanted to see what it was. I did a scenic u-turn (the only kind possible in the land of one-way streets) and when I got back to the office, there was my sweetie standing on the sidewalk waiting for me. His badge was still in the car, and since he is ALWAYS the first one in the office he needed it. I didn't have my cell phone (who remembers that at 6am after five hours of sleep?) and my sweetie would have had to wait until I got home or someone else arrived a work.

Thank goodness for the observant kindness of this Brazilian stranger in a blue t-shirt.

Second. I <3> tennis. On the way home to church on Sunday we drove past the tennis courts and the door was closed. When we left, the land had been sold and it was not certain if they would still be open when we got back. I had rained so we thought that maybe if we drove back past after church the courts may be dry enough for them to be open.

I was so happy to see the doors open when we drove past again.

I ran inside and set up a lesson for my normal time on Tuesday. The owner let me know that they would be open through the end of July. Perfect for me and my schedule. So Tuesday comes along and I am so excited because I got new tennis shoes and clothes for Christmas from my mother-in-law. The shoes fit perfectly (apparently Prince shoes run wider) and my tennis outfits are smoking. I got there a bit late because of my car trouble (another of the stories) and was met by my coach who was happy to see me again. He noticed my new clothes and complimented me on how good I looked.

He actually asked me if I ran all the way to the US or just stopped eating.

So sweet. You can't make it up, or exaggerate since tennis clothes hide nothing. I did look good. But that's not all. I played well also. When I started hitting the ball again it felt so good and natural. I frequently do well only on one side. Like my forehand rocks but my backhand goes straight into the net. I was rocking both sides. I even did well on my serves. The only drawback was that it was nearly 90 degrees and the sun was almost directly overhead. I got rather overheated, but boy was it fun.

And my new white shoes have been lightly baptized in the orange clay.

Third. I miss new-best-friend-Serena. She and her family moved back to Utah just before Christmas. I thought it would be ok since I have more friends than just her here. Unfortunately, none of those people are back from their vacations yet. I have a habit of using my cell phone in the car. I get in my car and pick up my phone. In the US I would call my mom or a random friend just to keep in touch. Here I called Serena. I got in my car to go to tennis and I had no one to call. It made me sad. I was stuck in traffic today.

It was because there was a tree that fell across four lanes of traffic onto a car while pulling down power lines into the road.

I found this out because I was on the side of the road that was still moving, but we were down to one lane since the top of the tree was in one lane, the downed power lines were in another and I drove between them in the only lane still open. This is something that I REALLY wanted to call and tell someone about. That someone was Serena.

I caught myself singing along to a Backyardigans song in my car.

I had no kids with me. Serena had a good time teasing me about that. I laughed out loud and sang louder. I will adapt, but I haven't yet. I also haven't cried, but I will.

Fourth. We got back from our vacation and my car was dead. D. E. A. D. No lights. No lock or unlock. Nothing. We asked the Zelador to help charge the battery but he was busy dealing with plumbing issues. So, I jumped it with our other car. Yeah, I did it.

My sweetie stood back, fearing for his car and life.

He had complete faith in me, but not in himself. That's love right there. Anyway, it worked and I drove the car around for 20 minutes before parking it back in the garage. I was so proud of myself. Then came the question: Will it start again? It didn't. The interior lights came on and it clicked, but the lights were flickering and dim. Since it was late, we gave up and walked away. When I locked the car with the key fob, all the windows, except the driver's, went and then about halfway back up before all the movement stopped and the lights went out.

SPOOKY!

My sweetie's car had its windows down when he got done golfing on Saturday. Maybe that is a Brazilian car thing so you can get in Dukes of Hazzard style when the battery is dead. Anyway, my job for the next day was to fix my battery problem. I needed to research the battery, buy the battery and have it installed. In Portuguese. All I had to do was drive down the hill in our other car (since I took my sweetie to work) to the SUPERmarket, talk to the mechanic in their garage, buy a battery upstairs and have it installed.

I don't know what was wrong with me.

It was easy. But I was afraid to do it. I actually sat around until 1pm just fretting about it. I was frozen with anxiety. Do you ever get that way? Well I do. I get nothing done but fret and do stupid computer games, making it worse all the while. I called my sweetie to see if calling our 24 hour insurance emergency assistance was an option and he reminded me that I can do anything. It took a lot of convincing and some of his special charm. So I marched myself down to the Extra (ok, I drove) and went right up to a mechanic and told him my problem and he told me what kind of battery to get and how long it would take to fix it and how much it would cost to install it and what their hours were.

It was so easy.

So I got the battery and went home to get ready for tennis. Well, my special helper had noticed that I was having trouble and she called her son to come help. Just before I left for tennis Penha's son showed up and fifteen minutes later my battery was changed and I was on my way to tennis in my own car. It wasn't so bad once I just decided to do it. My sweetie is astounded that I had such a hard time doing this "simple thing" when I have no problem telling him that I can build a deck and put in flooring and redesign a kitchen with confidence. I pulled the language barrier excuse but he wasn't buying it since I do very well with Portuguese.

Sometimes we just get stuck and it takes a little push to get us out.

I'm glad he pushes me when I need it.
Other times, not so much.

Those are my four stories.

If you can figure out how they relate, you win.

The end.

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