Right and Righter

 So hopefully I get my car back today, after a week in the body shop. An idiot smashed in the bumper against another car's bumper. That idiot was me. But good came from this accident.

I had left my card on the dash of my victim's car, and we have become pen pals (email pals?). Wescott, a great name for a lady born in Virginia -- probably named after a Civil War ancestor -- had sent me an estimate for her repair -- $1037. I immediately sent her a check.

A few days later, I got a note saying she had decided to have her car fixed at a friend's body shop instead of the Kia dealership- and she sent me a refund check of $500 with a note again thanking me for doing the right thing.

I wrote her back saying that if what I did was right -- her refund was righter. I knew that wasn't a word, but it should be. I also thought all this righteous behavior called for honoring the Big Man -- and what better way to do that than giving charity? And so I asked her what was important to her -- assuming UM was there.

She replied that she of course supported all UM causes, but her passion was rescuing dogs -- she had rescued over 70 during her life. So I ended up giving half the money to UM Peds -- to the Residents' Fund, which pays for stuff like conferences for the overworked, underpaid budding baby docs.

The other half I gave to Wifey's old haunt: Paws4you. They're located near our gym in the Falls, and specialize in finding homes for hard to adopt out dogs -- either big ones or old ones or less than adorable ones. It's the kind of place I would need for myself if Wifey ever booted me out.

Wescott was thrilled, of course, saying our accidental friendship had "gotten even better." And Wifey and I have an open invite if we ever get up to Satellite Beach, which I assume must be somewhere near Cape Kennedy.

So hopefully when I get my car back, it ends the at first annoying but later tzedeka-ic (another neologism) saga. And as Wescott said, it indeed WAS a very expensive bagel for me.

Meanwhile, the Canes kick off their season tomorrow. D1 is coming over early with the beautiful grandson, but said she needs to leave before the game starts, which is 3:30.

We're 19 point underdogs to Alabama, and I expect we will indeed lose. But that's ok. My beloved team gave me 5 (really 6) championships, and continues to be the glue that holds our fraternity/sorority together, at the hopefully to resume tailgates. As for being a top team? I fear we may never pass that way again. And that's ok.

And then, next week comes the OTHER Days of Awe. Rosh Hashonah is Tuesday. Joey's family has invited us for dinner -- after a year without the get together because of the Plague. D2 and Jonathan are headed to his parents' for the celebration.

We've had great times with Joey's clan. They're mostly Sephardic, and as much as I love my Ashkenazi soul food -- well, Sephardic food is really better. And I love what one of Joey's uncles said: his father used to refer to Ashkenazim as "gefilte fish eaters." I made that my own -- I now greet my boys with "Waddup, my GFE?"

I told my consuegros I would be bringing some celebratory alcohol -- and truly look forward to getting together. I trust it will feel so right. Maybe even righter.