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.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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.Rainy days require mackintoshes and galoshes for sploshing and splashing, or bright umbrellas to swing, twirl, and dance beneath.
Rainy days are meant to be enjoyed from home with a book and your favorite snack.
No one should have to work on rainy days.
Sigh.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
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!
"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!
Monday, May 4, 2009
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)
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)
Friday, May 1, 2009
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.
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.
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.
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