Category: commuting

Old problem in a new location

You know…it’s been a while.

A good long while. Since back in the I-40 and I-25 days.

Many years past.

Yes, today I had a moment of cellular memory.

We had an especially windy day in the Bay Area.

Sure, people talk about it being windy here, but they don’t know from wind. They don’t know about that gap between the Sandias and Manzanos channeling the wind, giving it force, and knocking you down in the parking lot.

They don’t know about tumbleweeds the size of a small house bouncing joyfully across the road with a velocity relatively equal to an overloaded Mack Truck coming out of the Glorieta Pass, air brakes screaming.

No, they don’t know.

But today came close.

As I drove home down 280 in the howling wind, my hands and arms moved without me. Took up the familiar position of about a 27 and a half degree angle turn on the steering wheel.

Turning into the wind in order to keep the car between the white lines.

And then…that moment when going under the overpass and wooop, for half a second you get a wind break and steer, steer, steer to keep from broadsiding the person next to you then you are out of the wind break and steer, steer, steer to keep from sliding off in the other direction.

My hands and arms didn’t need my brain to tell them what to do. They knew.

Honed and skilled by the unforgiving winds of the New Mexico desert. They knew.

The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind. (aw man! I can’t believe I *went there*!)

Do you ever…?

So there you are, say, commuting to work, and you are in a mellow mood. Talk radio doesn’t sound good. Local stations mostly suck, and besides, your nerves don’t want to be jangled today.

So you, you know, put the local light rock station on your car radio.

There you are, driving and thinking and listening to easy listening music that dates back a few years. Ok, more than a few years. A few decades, really. And you know all the words. You remember when that song was top ten. You recall when you heard it coming through your all in one turntable/radio unit with the dial drift and the scratchy single speaker.

So there you are, listening. Then, say, maybe a schlocky 1970’s love song comes on. One you haven’t heard in a really long time. And so you think “wow…what ever happened to THIS embarrassing song…” but then you listen to it a bit more, and you hear the words. And you are touched.

You think, “Well, but for some totally seventies arrangements, this is a really beautiful song.”

So you’re driving along, hearing the words, and thinking of the one you love most. Say, your fantastic spouse…and you hear these syrupy love words and you think to yourself “yes! Yes that too! Oh! And that other sentiment is *totally* my sweetie.”

And then maybe you cry a little bit. Not sadness, but because you’ve just heard words that totally encapsulate how powerfully you feel for that person who agreed to share their life with you.

It gets you right in the chest, and you let some tears roll down your cheeks and smile because you know you are the luckiest person in the whole wide world because you somehow found this amazing person who sees past your flaws and loves you anyway.

And you feel humble and unworthy but powerfully fortunate, like you won the lottery and the World Series all in one.

So then the song ends, and is followed by some more recent bit of clanky 90’s attempt at music, and the tears dry up and you take your exit to get to work, and a knobsack in a green Honda cuts you off. And so you call Honda boy a name worse than knobsack and drive on and you sniffle and you laugh at yourself for being such a sappy old fool.

Then you get to work and go upstairs and lose yourself in email, but that humble and lottery winning feeling prevails. And you think about writing your fantastic spouse the love letter of the century, but you can’t quite make the words sound anything other than schlocky.

So you just dwell in that quiet, humble, post-cry space and tell people that your allergies are acting up when they ask what is wrong with you.

But it’s not the allergies…it’s that damn 1970’s song that got a hold of you…

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Does this ever happen to you? Or is this just me? (And perhaps some helpful female hormones)

Or should I just give up and get fitted for a leisure suit now?

The end of civility?

This, the next in my line of roadway rants. See my four way stop discussion here.

This weekend The Good Man and I had occasion to take a bit of a road trip. Just down Highway 1, a small jaunt in order to meet up with a whole passel of my in-laws. (passel being smaller than a gang but larger than a group)

As we drove, in many instances, we were forced to merge, to turn, to navigate our way carefully through the highways and byways of the Bay Area.

I noticed, as The Good Man drove, he always, very politely, gives a wave when someone does him the favor of letting him into a lane, or allows him to turn in a busy, congested area, or stops to let him through.

I also noticed that when The Good Man generously does the same for others, he rarely gets a wave of thanks and recognition in return.

Politeness, it seems, is on the soon-to-be extinct list.

This makes me cranky.

Sure, I know that a polite wave isn’t required by any driving laws. I’ll have you know that when I had to take that drivers safety class to work the points off from a speeding violation, it was often suggested that a polite wave was much appreciated by others on the road. That acknowledging each other actually makes us drive better.

Connectedness people! Put down your Blackberry and say hi to an actual person sometimes!

I shall tack on a quick rant: Upon employment here at my new job, I tried, in vain, for two weeks to say hello to the security guard on the first floor who I must walk directly past EVERY day. It seems strange not to acknowledge another human you see five of every seven days of your life. But he will NOT say hello to me. Will. Not. It kind of hurts my feelings…..

A new look at an old topic

Far be it from me to be short sighted, but there is one issue I discussed recently that, as of today, I’ve seen a whole different view on.

See, I’ve found a way this can benefit me, and that’s a horse of a whole different color.

The topic was about the guy in my office snack shop talking wildly to himself. I thought he was on a Bluetooth headset. He was not. Original post here.

Well, today, driving to work, I had my iPod shuffle rigged up in the Jeep. See, while in New Mexico, I begged, borrowed, and *ahem* borrowed some music from my best friend’s extensive collection of classic country tunes.

Many of them made their way to my iPod, and as is my way, when a real good song comes on, singing along isn’t just a choice, it’s a mandatory.

So as I rolled into the parking lot at work holding a car concert, I was in full voice along with Gene Watson. (If you are a fan of country and don’t know Gene Watson, well…you should…).

Anyhow, I turned the corner into the parking lot as a lady who had already parked her car skittered in front of me. She looked my way and I didn’t even miss a beat, I kept singing along. The lady just looked away and kept walking.

I thought, “Wow, she didn’t even give me a strange look.”

Then I realized…she probably thought I was talking on a Bluetooth headset.

Crazy cuts both ways.




Image is of Latvian mezzo-soprano Elina Garanca and a pretty extensive web search could not net me the attribution on this photo. I found photos from that same event on the European Commission page which allows for the use of photos with attribution.



Notes from the brain pan

First of all, to all the good folks, including both mom and mom-in-law, who are concerned about the posts related to my troubles at work, thank you for being concerned. This week has turned out a bit better.

Also, I got paid today, and that always helps improve the outlook.

I imagine I’ll survive this. Or I won’t. Either way, the sun will come up again tomorrow and I’ll have to face another day. And I’ll have to face myself in the mirror. The way I do that is by knowing I did my best, worked my hardest and did so with humility.

Onward.

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Next…thanks to the gentleman driving the Explorer in the lane next to me on Wednesday morning. I was running late for work (overslept the alarm, snarf!) and I was, yes, speeding. But so were you. Thanks to your slower response time, I was able to take my foot off the gas first, you shot past me, and that nice CHP officer paid you a visit instead of me.

Whew. I have two months left on the eighteen months since my last ticket (you can only mask one traffic violation every 18 months), so you really saved me there!

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Don’t know if you are experiencing the same thing where you’re at, but to me, it’s like everyone in society is moving along in a fog. Making bonehead moves on the road. Bumping into me at the grocery. Looking at me blankly when I ask a question.

So, a nod to The Good Man for best summing up society’s recent weirdness:

(paraphrased)

“We had the buildup from the campaign, then the excitement of the election, anticipation of the new president and then finally the climax of the inauguration. It’s like the whole country just needs a cigarette.”

And a salty snack.

Indeed.

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Speaking of salty snacks…am I going to be the only person in the US not watching the Superbowl this weekend?

Because, really, Pittsburgh vs Arizona?

Sure, I know that AZ is the Cinderella story. Whatever. I could care less.

And Pittsburgh. Do we really need to see them win again?

I might whip up a batch of salty snacks, however, and watch Season 2 of The Muppet Show. I found it at the library and it’s providing much singing along and childish giggles from TGM and me.

Best thing to watch after a rough day at work, I’ll tell you THAT.

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Or maybe I should just have a cheese sandwich.

Been watching cheese sandwich-gate in the ABQjournal with interest. Oh Fair New Mexico, you still do scandal in a fun way.

Love it. And from what I’m reading, the press coverage has brought in quite a bit of the delinquent money! Nice.

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Lastly, the weather is messin’ with my head. Sunny and 70’s. Rainy and cold. Then just clear and cold. And today, back to the 70’s.

Mother Nature, you are FREAKING me out, maaahn.

But I’m not complaining about the sun. I’ll take it.

That is all.

Happy Weekend!