Lonely Cucumber

It's amazing what you see by the side of the road next to the center guard rails when you are stuck in traffic and crawling along. Whenever I am stuck in traffic I use my time wisely, I scope out what has been discarded in the wasteland that is the highway median. Things get stuck to the rail divider or washed into debris piles by torrential rains that flood their way to the nearest drain. I have seen things such as hats sticking out of drains, a curled up skeleton by an overpass, pieces of tire, front bumpers, hub caps, and general trash. However, most of these things are normal sights along the interstate. The other week I saw something unusual and completely unexpected.

As I was crawling along I-40, on the inner shoulder heading east, was a lovely English cucumber. It was sitting by itself on the pavement, whole and fresh looking. It made me want to reach out and pick it up as if the median were a farmer's market stall. Where did the cucumber come from? Why was it not squashed or damaged in some way? Why did it look so delicious sitting on a filthy highway shoulder?

Note, I did not take this picture but found that there have been
other cucumbers on the road in Sheffield, UK.
"Cucumber on the road" - borrowed from Spiritus Ex Machina on Flickr

Given the chance, I probably would have picked it up and taken it home. Had it proved edible, I would have washed it off and eaten it raw with a little salt. Yes, I know I'm odd, but why let a lovely veggie or fruit (thinking back to the roadside grapefruit) go to waste? People are starving all over the world! I would hate to laugh in their faces with my excess by letting something rot on the side of the road that I could have eaten.

However, traffic picked up as I drove past it and it was left behind. I watched is slide out of my side-view mirror and lamented having to leave it there. Other than the treat of having a reclaimed cucumber to munch on later, it would have been fun to see people's faces as I left my car to pick it up. I would like to have done that and heard what they were thinking as they saw me. That would have been priceless.

Corn-y

I saw something on the way to work that surprised me, and there are few things that I see on the road that surprise me any more. Sure, I can get wowed or frustrated or angry, but rarely surprised. What did I see? A pick-up truck with a bed full of corn. Why was that surprising? Because there seemed to be a mountain of course that wasn't blowing away like I thought it should be. There was a retaining wall of corn created by tucking them into the bed vertically at all the edges, and it worked. I was able to capture the two pictures below with my cell phone. The quality isn't great, but you can see what I'm talking about.




It seemed like an amazing feat of physics to me, but then I don't really know much about that field of study. It made me think about what would happen if the truck's bed had a heating element. How funny would it be to have popcorn exploding on the highway? If you opened your windows you might get a snack. But I guess that only happens when it's Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs.

Doppelganger

I got a promotion at work and a very good pay increase to go along with it, but when thinking about it this morning on the way to work it didn't seem like enough. What? Am I getting greedy? Yes, but only with my time. I'm tired of my commute. They could give me a 20k increase and I might be able to overlook the two hours I spend on the road each day, but until then it won't be enough. Sigh.

My commute-free self waved from the front porch this morning as I backed out of the driveway, taunting me. It's job is so simple - it does whatever I imagine I'd rather be doing than commuting to work. How great would that be? I wish that I could be someone else's free time doppelganger. I would love doing whatever they wished they could do and reporting back to them that, yes, it was as awesome as they thought it would be.

I need to come up with a company that provides a doppelganger service. However, there would be restrictions on what your hired doppelganger could do. This would not be the kind of service where they had to do all the things you didn't want to do. No, that is what they have administrative assistants for, but this service would take on the great things that you simply don't have time for. Want to tell people that you have climbed Mt. Everest? Sure, we can do that for you. We'll even document the climb with pictures and your doppelganger will look just like you. We would take great pride in finding the right look alike.

Want to go to every show of your teenager's high school theater production, but have to work two of the nights that it is showing? No problem! Your doppelganger will be there in your favorite seat, taking notes and pictures so that when you switch places right after the show, you'll know everything that happened.

Can't make it to the wedding of your spouse's/significant other's best friend? Don't worry, we have that covered! We will even find a gift from the registry for you to purchase and for your doppelganger to take to the event. You'll be the life of the reception without actually having to be there!

Yes, I can see it now, I will be a millionaire soon with the introduction of my new company - Doppel Dealings. Look out, World, your life just got easier and more exciting...for only $20 an hour!

Never alone...

We commuters are never alone on the road, or apparently on the internet either! I received a comment on my last post from another girl who hates her commute and likes to blog about it. Not only do we muse at similar times about similar topics, but we have almost the same blog address to boot! My fellow commuter is located at commutermusing.blogspot.com -- my address minus the "s". The title of her blog is Commusings, a very clever construction of commuter and musings, and she has done what I have not, Googled our blog topic. I'll just cheat and link to her post to give the results. I also thought I might be the only one, or if not the only one, at least the best! I can no longer make that assumption.

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. (Ecclesiastes 1:9 NIV)

Yes, the Bible says that. It's old, and even it knows better.

miles and miles

Don't worry that you are missing anything through my lack of posts lately. Most of my commuting time these days is spent thinking about what I need to do for class, or trying to stay awake as I am getting less sleep these days. I will be back to posting regularly in the near future.

By Degrees....

Homework is kicking my butt these days, there is so much of it. My day begins with planning how I can get my work done, my homework done, my reading done, eat, take care of the cats and my husband, and then find some time to sleep. Getting a new degree is exciting; doing the work to earn it is overwhelming.

This past week's work has left no time for blogging. I have decided that while I am working on my degree, I will continue to blog, but not everyday - just when I really have something to say. Of course that could be everyday at different times.

This week I have seen something interesting - two different vanity plates devoted to degrees. The first was on a Honda S2000: JD MBA. The other was on a Chevy Suburban: MS PHD. I tried to think about which one I thought was the most successful based on the vehicle that the plates were attached to. There are different ways to interpret their cars. First, the Honda is sporty, fun, and possibly fast. It is probably good on gas and therefore slightly conservative as it isn't a pure luxury car like a Lexus or Infinity. The Suburban is a large beast. Bad on fuel economy, imposing, and yet useful. It can be a great family car if you have a large number of kids.

Which would I rather have by comparison? A JD/MBA or a MS/PHD? I think I'll stick with my MAs, and my civic. Perhaps I will one day be able to have a plate that reads: MA-3/MLS. Who needs a JD, MBA, or PHD when you have 4 Master's degress? I'll be more broadly educated.

And equally in debt.

IM GOOD

I had my first in person class tonight. It was two and a half hours of awesomeness focused around Diversity. Yes, Diversity was an old, old wooden ship used during the Civil War era, but the diversity being discussed in class is more along the lines of differences.

Anyway, after class let out at 9:00, I was driving the 40 minutes home when I saw a Cadillac Escalade with the vanity plate: IM GOOD. Suuurrrreeee. You're so good that you have to tell everyone that with your license plate so they'll be aware of it. That sounds kind of fishy to me. That sort of mentality - trying to over sell something - makes me question instead of accept.

However, maybe that is the point with this license plate. If you say IM GOOD and people instantly question it, perhaps, Mr. Escalade, you are trying to capitalize on the "bad boy" image. Well, either way, I won't buy it.

Put that plate on a Toyota Prius and I won't question it. Sure you'd be safe, boring, and taken for granted, but that's what being good is all about, right?

Driving while...

I have started a new Master's program to get my MA in Teaching, with a concentration in secondary English. My first class is about inclusive classrooms, and as a summer class it packs a lot of information into a short amount of time. Unfortunately I got behind on my audio lectures that are stored in an online classroom. My first test is today, and I still have 4.5 hours of lecture that I have not heard. However, I have managed to read all the reading materials.

Last night my sister suggested that I listen to the lectures on the way to and from work. That would be two hours of lecture that I could combine with time spent doing nothing else (other than driving safely). In her opinion, it would be just like listening to the radio.

I had to think about that for a while, because honestly I could do that with my laptop on the way to work. How I would take notes while I was driving would be a challenge that only a good imagination and ingenuity could overcome, but listening to the lectures was perfectly reasonable.

That is when I tried to picture myself in my car, listening to the lecture, and somehow taking notes. I have heard of a lot of people doing things while driving - putting on makeup, eating, talking on the phone, texting, doing their hair, and even changing their clothes, but I have yet to hear of someone taking a class while driving.

Honestly, I have actually tried to study on the way to an exam in my car. I would keep my notebook in my lap or on the seat next to me and look at it at stop signs and stop lights, but listen to a class? I don't think I have the ability to concentrate, understand, and retain information while I am also driving that would make it a worth while endeavor.

My inability to multitask in this manner, or admitting that I am a poor auditory learner, fit in well with the course content on learning disabilities. In this case, I do not have the superior abilities needed to succeed.

CDOUGDIG

I was running late this morning and did not get to take a cup of coffee from home to enjoy on the way to work. As a result, I stopped off at a Bruegger's Bagel shop in order to get a good cup of reasonably priced coffee. On my way out of the shopping center in which it was located, I saw a vanity plate that got my attention: CDOUGDIG.

My first thought was - Hey Doug, all I'm seeing you do is drive, not dig. Honestly, Doug, in your white Tacoma pick-up truck, who is ever going to be able to read your vanity plate while you are actually digging - or whatever else you may mean by that? Seems a little silly if you ask me, but I know, you didn't.

Maybe next time you should.

From this moment on, I am available to review your vanity plate choices and tell you which ones are funny, interesting, and worthy; and which ones are best left in your head and not on your bumper. Please submit your choices to me for comment by commenting on any of my blog entries, and I'll be sure to respond.

The motto for my vanity plate review service:

Review to avoid looking like a fool - otherwise, car-pool.

NEED NAP

I saw this vanity plate on the way to work: NEED NAP. I couldn't agree more.

Crash

On the way home from work yesterday, I witnessed a fender bender. There was quite a bit of traffic, and you could only advance in short spurts. In the lane next to me, a car ran right into the back of a stationary SUV. I had already stopped, waiting for my lane to move forward, and was looking for vanity plates to read. The SUV was about 15 feet away from me and I happened to be looking at its plate when a black car plowed into the back of it. The driver couldn't have been going more than 15 miles an hour, but he didn't even brake before hitting the SUV. He must not have been looking in front of him at all.

I turned to see what he was doing, and he was looking down into his lap. He seemed unmoved by the accident. The hood of his car was raised and crunched in and his grill and bumper majorly damaged. I was surprised by how much damage his car had sustained in such a low speed collision. The SUV seemed fine with the exception of its hitch. That was hanging by a thread after the accident.

My lane started moving again after the SUV managed to pull over to the inner shoulder of the road. I watched the black car sit in the lane in my rear view mirror for a while. I'm not sure what the driver was doing, but he wasn't moving his car out of the way of traffic.

I thought about pulling over to be a witness of the accident, but as all rear end collisions are the fault of the car in the back, I figured that I wouldn't be needed.

It was a strange experience.

On E

I can imagine that 30 years ago it was probably relatively easy to run out of gas, especially when you think of the gas shortage of the 70's, but what about today? Can any American have a valid excuse for running out of gas these days? (with the exception of my husband who's fuel gauge is broken)

Yesterday I witnessed someone on the side of the road filling the tank of their white BMW station wagon with a gas can. It appeared that someone in a green Ford had given them a lift back to their car.

Honestly, you ran out of gas in a BMW? Not only should it have a gas light to tell you when your tank is getting low, but it is sure to have some computerized voice that informs you in grammatically perfect English that, "Your fashionable European vehicle needs to be refueled in exactly 54.26 miles from the black and white, Grade B dairy cow that you are scheduled to pass on this country road in approximately 3.5 seconds."


It is my belief that you must either be a legally blind and deaf BMW driver, or you're an idiot in an expensive car. I think only the later could get a driver's license, so there you are - an idiot.

Siting: The Million Dollar Man!

That's right, guys, I saw the Million Dollar Man while commuting to work this morning. No, not the Six Million Dollar Man from the 1974 TV show, but the Million Dollar Man - completely different. Who is the Million Dollar Man, you might ask. Well, let me tell you.

The Million Dollar Man was a professional wrestler from Texas or Arizona that hit his wrestling peak in the late 80's and early 90's with the WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment (formerly the WWF - World Wrestling Federation). Today he is a motivational speaker and evangelist.

How did I see the Million Dollar Man? Well, it was rather easy. I was driving along I-40, like I do every work day morning, when a white minivan merged in front of me from an on-ramp. And there it was! The vanity plate that said it all: MILLN$MAN.

So, honestly, I didn't see him in person, but I saw what must obviously be his white minivan, right?

Amazing. Celebrity vehicle siting on the way to work. How lucky am I?

Rain Music

My husband left his CD in my car from the weekend. It's a mix of different songs including Townes Van Zandt, Old Crow Medicine Show, and Drive-By Truckers.

One of my favorite songs on the CD is by Ryan Adams - Damn, Sam (I Love a Woman That Rains). It seemed very appropriate for this morning with the rain, and it just has a wonderful melancholy sound that reverberates best with gray skies and damp coolness.

Ryan Adams : Damn, Sam (I Love a Woman That Rains)

As a man I ain't never been much for sunny days
I'm as calm as a fruit stand in New York and maybe as strange
But when the color goes out of my eyes, it's usually the change

But damn, Sam, I love a woman that rains

Clear as a bell, and sound as an old engineer
Clear as a bell, and sound as an old engineer
With talented breezes that blow off your hat with a sneer
As a man I've never been much for talking to
I'm as open as the door in her house that leads to her room
And when the color goes out of my eyes, she's usually too

But damn, Sam, I love a woman that's blue

As a man I ain't never been much for sunny days
I'm as calm as a fruit stand in New York and maybe as strange
But when the color goes out of my eyes, it's usually the change

But damn, Sam, I love a woman that rains

You should be able to listen to the song at Lyrics Mode. I highly recommend it.

Early

20080925_P1020897_time i've got by jaycobs

I managed to get out of the house this morning when I was supposed to, around 6:30. The drive into work was traffic free and blissful. The perfect start to a Friday.

While I tell myself every work day morning that I need to leave the house by 6:30, more often than not I am getting out of bed at 6:30 instead of walking out the door. I was able to leave on time for the first few weeks when I started my commute, but gradually I left later and later. Now I'm lucky if I get into work before 8:30.

This morning I left on time, but for me....

I was early.

Mirrors

Borrowed from Katherine Finch.

I must be a horrible driver; I never use my mirrors.

I was merging this morning onto the interstate and was warned by a honking horn that someone was in my blind spot. I was glad that they were paying attention. Before I merge I always try to check my blind spot, or at least what I can see of it over my shoulder, and this time was no exception. However, I missed them completely during my pre-merging check of the next lane.

I tried to think about how I use my mirrors while I'm driving, and was shocked to realize that I hardly ever use them. Am I alone is this? Does anyone else constantly check their mirrors?

To be honest, I do use my rearview mirror on occasion when someone is tailgating me - which drives me insane. Other than that, I'm not much of a mirror user. I would rather turn and look for myself to either side.

Perhaps I should start using them more. It felt bad to be the moronic merger this morning.

Retro Vision

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live in the late 19th Century, or even the beginning of the 20th. Besides being fascinated by the clothing and the ornamental roles of women in that era, I wonder what it would be like not to have a car.

I drive an hour each morning to work. What would I be doing if I couldn't do that? What would my life be like without the freedom to get in the car and go wherever I want to?

In a way, I believe that there would be a few benefits. For one, I love horses. I lived on a farm for eight months where I got to feed horses and muck out stalls. I enjoyed every moment of it. In fact, if I could clean stalls for a comfortable living I am almost positive that I would change career tracts instantly.

Beyond the horses, there is the idea that you would have to walk more places. I love walking, and while it is not always such a great thing in the middle of 90 degree weather, it is an enjoyable way to get around. I used to walk miles a day when I lived in Boston. Granted, I did take the "T" (subway) on many occasions, but often I would just walk where I wanted to go. Walking allows you time to look at things along the way, think, and decompress. That is one of the reasons that I miss living in Boston.

Walking and horses are a great draw for me to an era without cars. There are so many romantic views of that time that often I am caught up in seeing things in an unrealistic way. However, my solid background in history allows me to cast off those fantasies and imagine the time as it was for those living in it. It would be a hard way to live if I kept my current social status based on income. I would not be wealthy, but neither would I be poor by any means. I would be in a merchant class where there was enough money for a few luxuries, but not enough to make life easy.

Even with my informed view of the time, I still yearn for it on occasion. Sometimes I imagine having a very difficult life, but one that had more solid meaning. Meaning in our lives these days is so intangible and fleeting. And perhaps that is the whole impetus behind these yearnings.

I'm searching for meaning.

NINEBALL

The nine ball is a happy yellow-striped billiard ball; it is also an enjoyable game. I have never been a good pool player - I am an early eight ball player (completely by accident) and therefore lose. This morning I was reminded of this long neglected pastime by a yellow Miata with a black hood. It's vanity plate capitalized on the color of the car and it's sporty nature. It read: NINEBALL.

I now have the worst urge to run off to a pool hall, rack up a game, have a beer, and smoke a few cigarettes. I have a hard time playing pool without drinking or smoking, which is probably why I will not run off to the pool hall anytime soon.

What I need is a pool table at home. My husband would love one - I would love one. Ok, new item for the completely unnecessary home improvement items list.

Thanks, Mr. NINEBALL. This is all your fault.

Lost

I have a good sense of direction. People call me when they want to know where they are and how to get where they want to go. My friend K in Boston has even called me since I moved back to NC to get directions. I am often seen as a personal navigational system. My ex, D, would often call for my help when lost. He had no sense of direction and used to say that his Zebra was broken, an imaginary navigation system.

I am constantly expanding the maps within my head. When I go a different way to get to a familiar place, I am often able to fill in once blank sections of my internal map. I love the Aha! moments that occur when I can connect streets and link thoroughfares in my head.

Despite my sense of direction, I can still get lost - in my head. This morning I called my husband while driving to work because I had remembered something to remind him about. I knew that he would never remember to do it today if I didn't call. Opening my cell, hitting the speed dial number, pressing send and getting my husband on the phone took only a minute. I began speaking - "I just wanted to remind you that..." - and suddenly I was lost. What had I wanted to say? What was I supposed to remind him about? I felt ridiculous. I forgot what I didn't want him to forget in a span of less than two minutes. Pathetic.

Zach tried to come up with things that he might need to be reminded of, but no guess was right. In the end, I told him that I would call him as soon as I remembered. I hung up the phone and remember not 5 seconds later. Ridiculous and bizarre!

My mind is on the fritz; a computer with a sporadic short. I blame the rain, and you know how I feel about rain.

MYMILK$$

How much money would you say that a Porsche Boxster costs? Hmm?

I know that it is more than I will ever be able to spend on a car. And yet yesterday I saw a man with the most amazing vanity plate on his green Boxter - MYMILK$$. The questions that this raises for me are:

1) Who is giving you milk money, and can they support me too?
2) Did you steal the milk money of thousands of other kids to afford this car?
3) How much does milk cost where you are buying it? ( because I swear you are getting ripped off)
4) Since you have spent your milk money on a car, how many years did you go without any milk?

The plate was clever and funny, but it left me with a bad taste in my mouth...rather like sour milk.

Yes, I am jealous.

Morning Radio Shows

On an hour commute in the morning, sometimes the need for a distraction from focusing on fellow commuters, accidents, license plates, and the weather is solved by listening to the radio. Music can really help pass the time and soften raw nerves. On the other hand, most radio stations play the same thing over and over again and I get tired of it. I also tend to play my CDs over and over again until I get tired of them. When your music selection is limited, then music is not always the answer.

Most mornings I either commute in silence, thinking things over and having preparatory conversations in my head, or I listen to a morning radio show. The only radio show that I listen to is Bob and The Showgram. These guys are rather crazy, but extremely entertaining.

This morning they had mother's read from their children's diaries/journals in order to win a pair of tickets to the upcoming New Kids On The Block concert. The mother who read the funniest entry on the air was the winner. One woman read her 10 year old son's journal that contrasted sharply with the diaries of the 10 and 11 year old girls. He talked about wanting to discover and name a planet that had volcanoes on it the size of continents; the girls talked about boys. The ultimate winner was an entry where the daughter had heard her parents in the bedroom and was confused about what was going on. It was rather funny.

I'm not sure that I would invade the privacy of my child and read their diary/journal entries on the air to get a pair of NKOTB tickets. I was about 9 when the popularity of these guys was in full swing during '89-'90, and I can remember my best friend being in love with them while I could not care less. I have never been a fan of boy bands. I have never really been a "big fan" of any sort. I enjoy music and like to go to concerts, but I was never the type to collect pictures, buy t-shirts, get things signed, send fan mail/e-mail, or read their websites. I support my chosen favorites by occasionally buying their CDs, and that is it.

I am unaffected by the thrill of obsession when it comes to famous people. There are many famous people that I would like to meet, but on most occasions I imagine running into them somewhere and pretending that I have no idea who they are. I want to interact with them, see who they are in person, and not have the giddiness factor intrude. I am a fan of the unfan movement I suppose.

So there you are, famous people, you are safe with me. If I admire you in some way, then I might get excited about meeting you - which means you are probably an author - otherwise, I could take you or leave you.

Rain

I love the rain. The smell, the sound, the feel, and the way the light changes that creates a world that I can't get enough of when it rains.

Rain Stroll by jaxting

Rainy days require mackintoshes and galoshes for sploshing and splashing, or bright umbrellas to swing, twirl, and dance beneath.

Umbrella Love... by Hyena in Petticoats

Rainy days are meant to be enjoyed from home with a book and your favorite snack.

Rain in Casa Iguana I by Krevende Kranier

No one should have to work on rainy days.

Sigh.

Accidental Lingering

Accidents happen. When it rains, snows, or the wind blows; someone always loses control. One to three vehicles might actually be physically part of the incident, but hundreds are involved vicariously. These vicarious hundreds are struck by horrible cases of "Rubber Neck" Syndrome.

"Rubber Neck" Syndrome is a horrid affliction brought on by the proximity of a vehicular accident. As long as the vehicular accident is within sight, victims of "Rubber Neck" seem incapable of escaping the clutches of the disease. "Rubber Neck" Syndrome, which will now be referred to as RBNS, is by far the most common communicable disease. It affects people more often than the common cold and flu combined. The danger of this disease is that one can catch RBNS, recover, and then get it again not ten minutes later. It is possible to suffer from RBNS innumerable times in one day as exposure depends on the occurrence of vehicular accidents in the immediate vicinity.

RBNS is exhibited by the following symptoms: immediate turning of the head to one side followed by temporary paralysis of the neck muscles, loss of coordination in the right foot with the inability to flex or point the foot, muscular spasms in the left foot and leg which result in sporadic stomping motions, loss of muscle tension in the face causing the jaw to drop, and impaired cognition or the inability to concentrate and multitask. RBNS attacks immediately after an accident has been sighted, and can catch the victim completely off guard. As the disease lasts only as long as the accident is visible in direct or peripheral vision, victims often start recovering before they recognize the attack has even occurred.

Scientists and traffic reporters have been unable to find a cure, or even a means to protect the commuting public from the onset of RBNS. No progress is recorded from field studies examining the characteristics of the disease. If researchers could uncover a means to avoid the contraction of RBNS by commuters exposed to vehicular accidents, the morning and evening commute might be traffic free in the future.

Perhaps if the Department of Transportation considered RBNS a dangerous epidemic and provided funding for further research, then a cure or preventive measures might be discovered. However, who can count on the DOT for anything?

So, my fellow commuters, be careful during inclement weather. If you feel that you have suffered from RBNS, or can provide first hand observations on others suffering from the disease, then please contact the Infections During Incident Originating Traffic in Imbecilic Commuters (IDIOTIC) Association. Your help in preventing or finding a cure for RBNS would be greatly appreciated!

Yes, we can!

KSNCUSIN

What is a "kissing cousin" exactly? I've heard that phrase all my life, and yet I cannot provide a solid definition. Does it refer to people that fall in love with their cousins? Are they people that marry their cousins? Are they just very close family members?

Amazingly enough, the internet does not necessarily solve this conundrum as definitively as I would desire. One definition says that it has a literal meaning - cousins that kiss when they greet each other. Another refers to cousins that marry each other.

When the meaning for this phrase is rather ambiguous depending on your background or personal definition of the phrase, why would anyone put this on their license plate?

Ms. Silver VW Convertible, did you marry your cousin? Do you like to kiss your cousins when you meet them? Are you secretly in love with one of your cousins? Are you an only child who has cousins that have become like your brothers or sisters? Why have you informed everyone that you are a "kissing cousin"? What does it mean to you?

Your license plate, KSNCUSIN, has served to raise questions rather than share a bit of personal information. You were sitting there with the top down. I should have rolled down the window and shouted a question your way: Why are you a kissing cousin?

I guess that I shall never know. You must be the wrong kind of "kissing cousin" because you have tortured me with questions I will never get the answers to. You must have married your cousin. Worse than that, you must have married your first cousin. How could you? (on both counts)

Poppies

Every morning and evening of this past week, I have seen the most glorious vision of red. On the rise of a grassy median that separates the US70 Bypass, there is a stretch of blooming wildflowers. The crimson heads of the poppies dominate the scene.

"Monet's poppy field, Giverny" by Debbie G - borrowed from her photostream on Flickr

I wish that I could stop and gather some of the poppies to take them home with me, but then I would mar the roadside scene that I have come to look forward to and luxuriate in the passing beauty for the full minute that it is in sight.

The scene always makes me think of Monet's 1873 painting, Poppies, Near Argenteuil.


I love that painting. It is one where I would love the ability to just walk onto the scene that it captures so well.

The poppies cheer me on the way to work, and cheer me on the way home. They are currently the highlight of my commute. I don't know how I'll recover from loosing their delightful impact on my normally dreary drive when they have eventually lost their bloom.

A simple wild treasure that can change your view of the world - crimson poppies.

Moronic Mergers

Be aware of your present location. Plan and prepared well ahead of execution. Maintain or approach the speed of moving traffic. Turn on your left or right blinker. Check your mirrors and blind spot while maintaining your speed. Move into the desired lane when there is a large vacant space. Continue driving. You have successfully merged your vehicle.

WHY IS THAT SO HARD?!?

People are such morons when it comes to merging. Either they wait until the last minute when they need to exit or the lane ends (sometimes there are equally moronic drivers hogging the lane that needs to be merged into with an on ramp), or they are weaving in and out of traffic to go faster than they need to in the first place. Even in traffic, merging should not be as big of an issue as it always becomes. People should automatically take turns merging and letting people merge in front of them. If we all functioned like that, there would be systematic merging at a maintained speed, and merging would never be an issue!

Why do people feel like they need to slow down when merging? Go the same speed as those traveling in the lane you will join, and then find a space to merge into! It is an easy concept. Children can perform this complicated task at a roller rink without the help of an engine or informative signage. Very few traffic jams or accidents occur as a result. Why are adults so incompetent even with the help of advanced technology and years of experience?

Honestly, I can't wait until cars are simply driven for us by means of AI. Until that time, there can be no order when the judgment of a person is part of the transportation equation. Rational thought and logic are completely disrupted by attention, emotion, and personality. We humans are incapable of consistent logical thought and execution. You might as well try making lemonade from water and yellow.

Of course, when we no longer have to physically drive our cars in order to get anywhere, commuting will be a completely different beast. I'd like my vehicle of the future to include a bed and darkly tented windows. I'll just sleep until we get there.

4A10SHUN

Mr. Lexus IS 350 RWD in Matador Red Mica, I saw you this morning on my way to work. Your car was shiny and sleek, and I almost spilled my coffee while allowing too much of my attention to focus on you and your alluring wheels. I might as well have been a bull. The color trapped my line of vision. It had a molten undertone that lures you in like a moth to a flame, even though you might get burnt.I watched you speed past me, and it was all I could do to stay at my own pace and not race after you. While you were leaving me behind, I saw your vanity plate: 4A10SHUN. It said it all, and suddenly the spell was broken.

You had my attention when I was caught up in the beauty of your ride. You pushed me away when your plate revealed the person behind the wheel. Go ahead and drive off with your playboy attitude. The once tempting apple seems to have a mealy core.

Besides, my poor little Honda could never keep up with you to continue my gawking. Sigh.

Coffee

From Toothpaste for Dinner

I enjoy having a cup of coffee on my way to work in the mornings. I have found that I'm not really after the caffeine that many people rely on to get started each day; it does not affect me. The reason that I have a cup of coffee each morning is because I enjoy the way that coffee tastes. Well, to be honest, I enjoy the way coffee tastes once I have fixed it.

Coffee, on its own, is nasty. I have never learned to drink a plain black cup of coffee, and I do not think that I will every try to gain that skill. Why should I? Cream is all that is required to transform bitter nastiness into decadent flavor. Using a flavored coffee increases the decadence and makes it almost sinfully delicious.

This morning I was thinking about how I normally like my coffee. When thinking of coffee along the lines of "I like my coffee like I like my women...", then my original preference for coffee can only be labeled as "Aryan". I like a little coffee with my cream, but no sugar. However, I've been trying to cut back on consuming unnecessary fat where I can. For the past month, my coffee has looked Ethiopian - dark and rich.

I have to admit that I love the novelty of drinking seemingly black coffee, but as I said before, I could never handle plain black coffee. My now Ethiopian coffee is not plain, but sweetened with Splenda's Flavors for Coffee in French Vanilla. This sweetener works for the most part, but it all depends on the strength of the coffee.

I tend to drink my coffee weaker than other people that I know - namely my husband. If the coffee is brewed too strongly, then the sweetener does not work. I have found that blueberry flavored coffee and the sweetener are absolutely delicious. However, I am starting to miss my cream.

This morning, I made a connection between coffee and truth during my commute to work. You might ask: How is that possible? Well, let me explain.

Truth can be good. Truth can be bitter. Truth can be doctored and served according to the recipients taste. Truth is truth, but everyone's truth is different. Each person's truth is a product of their view of what truth is supposed to be.

In my mind, you can replace truth with coffee in that paragraph and it will still be an accurate description. Truth and coffee, accepted and served differently all over the world.

Maybe I'm just being cynical, or perhaps my coffee is bitter this morning.

The Internet

This is completely unrelated to my commuting, but still relevant for me right now. A coworker of mine and her sister are great stick people artists. This is an animation that K made. It is hilarious!


Internet Forum Philosophy by ~Llyzabeth-Kythryn on deviantART

Enjoy!

BEYOU

I was struggling with my thoughts this morning. I was trying to shake off anger, hurt, and disappointment from this weekend, and deal with the fact that you can't make everyone happy. I decided on the way to work this morning that you have to be true to yourself, always seek and present the truth as best you can, and deal with the fact that pleasing everyone else and doing what is right are not always the same thing.

I believe in truth. I also know that the truth hurts, but a lie is poison that works over time with ever increasing pain, which will never kill you but can leave you in constant agony. Lies poison the ones that hear them, and the ones that tell them. Lies are the things that you say and the things that you omit. I, myself, must say I am a liar if I want to tell the truth. We are all liars. However, we can choose to change that and work to be more truthful. We can choose to tell the truth even if it gets us in trouble. You do not have to regret telling the truth.

I saw a personalized license plate that stuck with me this morning. It said, "BEYOU". It was gone before I could recognize the kind of car it was on, but I was glad I had time to read it. I needed that this morning.

A personalized license plate read on the way to work offered sound advice. Vanity license plates are supposed to tell you about the driver who created them; perhaps this driver is a therapist who is trying to help other commuters with a compelling message in two words - Be You.

Thank you, Mr./Mrs. Therapeutic Vanity Plate Owner. You have made a difference simply by driving past me on the interstate this morning. You are so much better than I am. I was thinking this morning that perhaps I should change my plate to DEALW/IT.

Weekends and Endings

In case you were wondering, I don't commute on the weekends. I'll only be posting during the work week.

Today is Sunday, the end of the weekend. Weekends always end too soon. I think that we should all rally for a three day weekend. Working can often be overrated when it gets in the way of living. It is a shame there are so many things that have to be done for us to just get by. Pulling from Hamlet's eloquence of thought: Simplicity, thy name is definitely not Human.

Name Calling

My train of thought is often sporadic. I'm a tangential thinker. One thought will remind me of something else, which leads immediately to a completely different line of thought that in turn brings up another issue, and so on and so forth until I can't remember how I even started thinking about the last thing I was thinking about. The structure of that last sentence slightly mirrors that thought process.

This morning I started thinking about babies that friends and people I know have had recently or are expecting to have soon. One of my favorite parts of thinking about babies are their names. I get very excited about names. I wrote down a list of six first and middle names for my future children when I was in middle school: Rowan Dade, Ian Lowry, Samuel Seamus, Gavin Ezekiel, Emma Jean, and Llivinia Anne. Granted that list is slightly out of date with my current taste in names, but I still make a list on occasion.

Thinking of names for future children, which lasted for at least ten minutes of my commute, led to thinking about my family. Thinking about my family was not a good succession from the previously happy line of thought.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Family is a crazy thing. You can't choose them, and they can't choose you. Everyone is stuck in the same situation and must make the best of it. Some of us are better at adapting than others. I believe that often I fail at this. I constantly find myself stuck in the middle of things, and I don't know how to fix them or change them or make everyone happy. Maybe that is the lot of the youngest.

I screamed at my family on the way to work this morning. I experienced a period of inner road rage. I yelled at the pictures of them in my mind because I can never yell at them in person.

A coworker told me that while this may seem therapeutic it can actually lead to trouble with the law. She was on her way home from a holiday get together with family where she could not have politely said what she was really feeling. She had her own screaming session on the drive home, and a highway patrol officer eventually pulled her over. She had not been speeding or doing anything else wrong, but apparently several truck drivers had witness her release of rage and called her in to the highway patrol because they were worried about her.

I think that I will refrain from doing my yelling in the car for the future, especially as it will most likely be while in traffic. Rage, we need to get it out, but our outlets for it are so limited. Perhaps I just need to join a firing range.

Haunted by a Grapefruit

I often see interesting things on the side of the road while driving. My mother and I used to play a game when I was younger that involved things abandoned by the road. The game consisted of spotting something out of the ordinary in a ditch or median and saying aloud to the other person, "Hey, there's my shoe! (or shirt, or couch cushion, or bucket, ect.) I knew I'd left it somewhere!" I'm not sure why, but this was hilariously funny and we would both laugh. The more seriously and regretfully sounding you could say something like that, then the more fun the game became. Whoever thought of doing it first during a car ride was rewarded by the moment of confusion on the part of the other person as they hesitated a moment in belief of your words. To this day, I still play this game occasionally on road trips...even if I'm alone.

One morning this week I came to the intersection of a country road to a larger highway, where I turn onto the highway on my way to work. In the intersection that bridges the median between the two sides of the highway was a grapefruit. The fruit lay directly in front of my car and I couldn't help but stare at it. A grapefruit? Sitting in an intersection? How did it get lost? Where was it going? All of these questions raced through my mind as I stared at it. During that time I was also waiting on the oncoming traffic to allow me to turn onto the highway. When my chance came, I turned right as usual and then decided that I was going to do something ridiculous - I was going to turn around at the light just a short distance away and go back to pick up the grapefruit.

This may seem like a strange whim to act upon, but that is often how I operate. When I lived in Boston, I once found a tangerine in the snow on the sidewalk as I was walking home from work. I picked it up and ate it while I walked. It was delicious.

Though I had to laugh at myself for turning around to get a grapefruit stranded in the middle of a highway intersection, I was anxious that someone might run over it during the two minutes it took me to turn around. I worried that someone would see me pick it up and think I was insane. I wondered how I was going to pick it up without getting out of the car or running over it myself. I needant have bothered with all of these thoughts. When I got back to the intersection, it was gone.

It took me exactly two minutes to turn around at the light and make it back to the intersection where I had planned to make a U-turn and pick up my free grapefruit. I was actually shocked when I got back to the empty intersection. I quickly scanned the grassy median for my run away grapefruit and scanned both sides of the road for the crushed citrus victim of a careless driver. It simply wasn't there. It was gone.

I decided that as strange as I felt my impulse was to pick it up, someone else must have indulged the same whim and taken it before me. Oddly enough, I felt robbed! Who had stolen my grapefruit?!? Who had deprived me of a delicious addition to my PB&J lunch?!? After I got back on my route to work, I looked around at the other cars on the road and wondered who could have taken my grapefruit. It was silly, but I couldn't help it.

I know it wasn't just a figment of my imagination. Despite the ridiculousness of the whole situation, I regretted not getting out of the car, crossing the road, and picking it up before I turned onto the highway. Yes, I know I'm insane. But grapefruit are delicious!

INCOGNTO

I like to read vanity plates as I am commuting to work. It is a small form of enjoyment that connects me to the other people on the road who are slowing down my progress towards work or home. I, myself, have a vanity plate that I am confident reflects me personally. What, might you ask, does my plate say? Well, here it is -

This picture was taken by my wonderful wedding photographer, Thomas Geist, back in October when I married my childhood best friend. Why did he take such an interest in my license plate? I would like to tell you that it was because I was really early for my wedding, making it an oxymoron. I would like to say that it was just a funny image among many other gorgeous wedding images. I would like to lie about it, but the truth is right there is red - I was 40 minutes late to my wedding. I am constantly late to every social function that I attend. If I didn't have a flexible work schedule, then I would be late to work every day. I am always late.

My lateness is not from a lack of trying to be somewhere on time. I try very hard to be on time, but I seem to suffer from the inability to mentally gauge the amount of time it takes for me to get ready for an event, and the time required to travel to that event. To be fair, my late arrival to my own wedding was not my fault, but the retelling of it is more humorous when I get blamed, once again.

My vanity plate truthfully labels me for the other drivers on the road. While I was contemplating the creation of this blog on my way home from work yesterday, I saw another vanity plate that caught my attention. It read: INCOGNTO.

in-cog-ni-to [in-kog-nee-toh, in-kog-ni-toh]

–adjective

1.	having one's identity concealed, as under an assumed name, esp. to avoid notice or formal attentions.

incognito. Dictionary.com. Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/incognito (accessed: April 22, 2009).

Mr. Silver Camry with your "Carolina is Obama country" bumper sticker, do you really think that you are avoiding notice when you have a vanity plate?

Vanity plates are meant to draw attention to the car that they are placed on, and to the person that drives that car. We pay extra money for these plates to stroke our own vanity by expressing ourselves in eight characters or less and thinking that people will read them and care what they say. I know - I think about it all the time. "Is the person behind me thinking that my license plate says I'm late because I only go five miles over the speed limit, not 10, while they are riding my rear end in an effort to express their frustration, which I will ignore on principle?"

From the definition of incognito above, I am struck by the ridicule I expect Mr. Silver Camry to be subject to on account of his witty, but inapplicable, word choice for his license plate. Honestly! We know you want our attention, but we really don't care who you are - you are in a silver Camry! Now, put that plate on a Lotus or Corvette (though I think they are ugly), and we might wonder who you are and what you do. The Camry actually fits in with the definition of incognito, your plea for attention with a vanity plate does not. In fact, while I laugh at the irony of it, I can't help but laugh at you.