Into Each Drive Some Rain Must Fall?

Is this just a phenomena in my town?  Or do people everywhere not know how to drive in the rain and the dark at the same time?

It took me 45 minutes to go 14 blocks.  Fourteen!  My house is a mere six miles from my office.  The commute was an hour and fifteen minutes. 

During Snowmageddon, some people sat in their cars on the roads until the wee hours of the night.  On 9-11 (yes, THE 9-11), Mr. Gaelic arrived home six hours after leaving his office.  Which is also six miles from home.  Granted, those were two extraordinary traffic events.

But still!  It's just a little rain, people!  And darkness happens every single day!  That's what wipers and headlights are for.  There were no fender benders on the drive home.  My guess is it was just volume and people driving at much slower speeds.  I shouldn't complain.  On the bright side, I made it home safe and sound.

[Title taken from this.]

Damn This Traffic Jam

We're now in the second third of the 30 Day Non-Facebook Prose-Instead-of-Pictures Challenge and they're getting harder. Before we get to today's topic, here are the last three.

9.A picture of the person who has gotten you through the most - Ναι.
10.A picture of the person you do the most ****** up things with - Sim.
11.A picture of something you hate - Here!

Hate is such a strong word.  Believe it or not, it's not the opposite of love.  Both love and hate are emotions, strong emotions.  The opposite of love (or hate) is indifference.  But today's post isn't about semantics.  It's about something concrete.  Something I hate.

Let's see now.  The eulogy at my funeral will include a reference to the three people in my life - those I love, those I hate, and those I never met.  Passion is a major part of me.  If our paths have crossed, you fall into one of the two earlier categories.  If you've never introduced yourself, please do.  I don't bite.  I can actually be a very nice person.  Most of the time.

Sometimes people can fall into both the first and the second categories at the same time.  How?  My pet peeve.

Seeing as how my city has one of the worst records for traffic in the U.S., it makes sense that my pet peeve has to do with traffic.  If I know and love you but you are caught in my pet peeve, that's how you'll be both loved and hated at the same time.  My pet peeve?

When traffic is slow and backed up at an intersection, I don't enter the box in case the light changes and I get stuck in the box.  Anyone who has driven in New York City knows about "Don't Block the Box".  But there is inevitably some jerk waiting to turn right into the backed up line of traffic who uses my courtesy as an invitation to whip right on in line ahead of me even though it means that no one else can pull through the intersection before the light turns red.  Oo, I hate that!  It steams me!  Depending on the day and my mood, the driver might get anywhere from a honk to a finger to rolling my window down and yelling at the moron. 

Word of warning to anyone driving on the East Coast - if you see a redhead in a white convertible not blocking the box in heavy traffic, do not, I repeat, do not pull your car in front of me thinking that I'm letting you in line.  Got it?  Good.  Now back to your regularly happy Mrs. Gaelic.

[Title taken from this.]

[Happy Birthday to anyone born today!]

Menu Plan: January 3 - January 9

Now that my dirty little secret isn't so secret anymore, perhaps the menu plans will include lunch.  My dirty little secret?  Fast-food drive-thru for lunch.  As a full-time mother for the last 15 years, I fell into the habit of eating fast food while out running errands.  Eating in the car between stops meant more efficiency.  But at the expense of my waistline, and maybe my health.

Starting an office job tomorrow means either taking my lunch or eating in the cafeteria.  At least for the first week.  Mr. Gaelic suggested getting away from the office for lunch.  It's good to have a change of scenery. 

So, for Laoch and Gail, here is an attempt at eating a clean lunch. 

• Monday
• Breakfast: cream of wheat
• Lunch:  ham and Swiss on sourdough, chips, apple, 2 chocolate pieces
• Supper: chef's surprise (Finola is still home from college and will cook)
• Tuesday
• Breakfast: cereal
• Lunch:  turkey and provolone on spelt, chips, clementine, 2 chocolate pieces
• Supper: beef Stroganov (Deirdre's specialty since she will cook)
• Wednesday
• Breakfast: soft boiled eggs, toast
• Lunch:  office reception (it's Swearing-In day for the 112th Congress)
• Supper: kidney beans, fried okra, kale
• Thursday
• Breakfast: oatmeal
• Lunch:  ham and Swiss on spelt, chips, banana, 2 chocolate pieces
• Supper: vegetable soup, homemade bread (probably overly ambitious but we'll see)
• Friday
• Breakfast: cinnamon toast
• Lunch:  turkey and provolone on sourdough, chips, apple, 2 chocolate pieces
• Supper: dinner out to celebrate the first week on the job
• Saturday
• Breakfast: sausage, eggs, grits, toast
• Lunch:  leftover soup
• Supper: steak, baked potato
• Sunday
• Breakfast: waffles, sausage
• Dinner: chicken 'n' dumplin's, broccoli, carrots
• Supper:  PB&J sandwiches, chips

I need to work on a side for my lunches.  Easing back into making lunches means only thinking about the mains for now, which are still sandwiches at this uncreative point.  The two chocolate pieces?  Mr. Gaelic gave me two boxes of Godiva chocolates for Christmas.  The boxes are still unopened.  They will be my dessert in my sack lunch.

Truth be told, I have mixed emotions about my new job.  I'm excited to be back in the political world of Capitol Hill.  At the same time, I'm anxious about the logistics of latch-key kids, wholesome suppers, and running errands.  Heaven help me.

Almighty God, whose Son Jesus Christ in his earthly life
shared our toil and hallowed our labor: Be present with
thy people where they work; make those who carry on
the industries and commerce of this land responsive to thy
will; and give to us all a pride in what we do, and a just
return for our labor; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who
liveth and reigneth with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Amen.  (BCP, p. 208)

Observations from the Road

I-95 is the most traveled road in America.  Some observations to make it at least tolerable:

• EZPass.  Nuff said.  Drive without it and lose several hours waiting for the Cash Only lanes at the toll plazas.
• If crossing the George Washington Bridge into New York City, get in the lane with the most tractor trailers.  Even with the EZPass, hour-long lines stretch into New Jersey.  Tractor trailers take up more space than cars.  Two lines being even, the one with the 18-wheelers will move faster because there are fewer vehicles in the same amount of space.
• If there are three lanes of traffic on the interstate or toll road, the left lane will be the fastest, the right lane will be the second faster, and the middle lane will be the slowest.  Those German laws of ticketing for passing on the right wouldn't even convince people in the middle lane to move to the right.  But that's another blog entirely.
• Buy gas in New Jersey.  It's cheapest by far and you don't have to pump it yourself.
• Take your own seat protectors.  Even though some restrooms have the holders for seat protectors, they're not always filled.  Women are nasty in restrooms.  We squat rather than sit because we were told that we could get all kind of diseases from sitting on public restroom seats.
• If you buy it, they will eat it.  Even if you're not hungry, if there is snack food in the car, you will eat it.  So if you're trying to eat healthy, either buy healthy car snacks or don't buy it.
• Avoid New York City at all costs.  If you're driving from points south of New York City to points northeast of New York City, take the New Jersey Turnpike to the Garden State Parkway to the Tappan Zee Bridge to Connecticut.  We all (heart) New York, just not while crossing the Hudson River.
• Always question authority, especially Bitching Betty.  She may try to take you on the fastest route, but in actuality it may not be.  Sometimes that bitch just doesn't know what she's talking about.
• The economy must have been really hard on some folks.  In past years, crossing the Delaware, George Washington, and Tappan Zee bridges have been quite boring.  Now there are signs along the bridges reminding people that life is worth living and offering 1-800 numbers to call if in crisis.  And CCTV cameras to boot.  Just in case.
• When the toll road splits with trucks and buses on the right lanes and only cars on the left lanes, if you're driving a car, stay to the right with the trucks.  It actually moves faster than the lanes with just cars.
• If you're offended by teens who wear sleepwear in public, men who wear socks with sandals, or women of a certain age who really shouldn't wear shorts past that certain age, then avoid each and every rest area, fast food joint, coffee shop, or gas station along the way.  Your eyes will thank you.

Triple Usually-Decaf Grande Latte

The good thing about not drinking caffeine is not having to depend on the stuff to wake up in the morning. Another good thing is that when you really need a good dose of high octane (like for a long-distance drive) it keeps you wide awake when you need it. But that's a double-edged sword.

When you're not used to drinking caffeine and you get yourself a triple shot latte on the road, not only does it keep you alert for the drive but it keeps you awake for hours and hours on end after you've arrived.

Maybe I should have gone for a single shot latte.

Let's Go Fly a Light

Saturday mornings are meant for sleeping late, not being awoken with the phone ringing at 5:15 a.m. Our phone announced the incoming party’s name, the parents of our second daughter’s best friend. The friend wasn’t at home and the parents didn’t know where she was. The father called to find out if she was with our daughter. Which she wasn’t. First thought in my mind, “Oh, no, not another runaway!”

In the past month, my eldest daughter’s friend ran away from home. The police came to our house to interview both of the teenagers about if they knew of the girl’s whereabouts. Which they didn’t. The girl finally surfaced five days later at a friend’s house.

Just for the record, I’m a terrible mother, according to some of the comments I hear third-hand from parents of my daughters’ friends. Some of the terrible things I do:

*Allowing the kids to choose, once they’ve been confirmed, whether to go to church with us (unless they’re on the schedule to acolyte, in which case it’s non-negotiable)
*Allowing my middle daughter to wear shorts and skirts to school which the other parents think are too short
*Allowing my children to get their learner’s permits without tying the privilege to a certain level of grades
*Allowing my teenagers to take public transportation and/or walk all over the city to shop, eat, and watch movies
*Teaching my children at a young age about human reproduction
*Telling my young teenagers about oral sex
*Offering my children wine with meals at home and tastes of other alcoholic drinks when their father or I order them in a restaurant

But in my defense, my children

*Won’t have a resentful attitude about church as adults
*Will have a respect for alcohol and know their limits before getting to university and the “real world”
*Understand that sex is a normal part of life and, as girls, won’t allow a boy to insist on certain activities without a reciprocation on his part
*Call adults Mr. and Mrs. rather than by their first names as a sign of respect and the boundary between childhood and adulthood
*Know that our home is a haven, a safe-place, not only for them but for their friends as well

Once I insisted that my eldest daughter sit in on an adult education lecture at church. The lecturer was a young female chaplain from the local church-run school. She described the differences in parents by comparing us to tractor beams (à la Star Trek) or lighthouses.

Parents who insist that their children do and say and think and act the way the parent wants the child to are like tractor beams, pulling the child into them. This action is enough in drive the children away or to make the child rebel in ways harmful to the child. Not what we should be striving for.

But lighthouses weren’t designed to draw anyone TO them. If a ship goes TO the lighthouse, it crashes on the rocks. Lighthouses are designed to show ships the way to safety by keeping them away from danger. Parents should strive to show their children the dangers that exist and let the children go. My eldest daughter now refers to herself as the lighthouse to her friends. She’s proud of that fact, but understands that it’s a huge responsibility for someone her age.

Even though some parents may think I’m too lax with my rules, I know to pick my battles. I do have street cred with my children, as when I kept our eldest from going on an exchange program because she didn’t keep up her end of the bargain which was an improvement in her grades. (She’s now taking four AP classes and going on a different exchange trip.) And the middle daughter (who infamously was thrown out of the church children’s choir and was asked to leave the church youth group) knows what it’s like to live under house arrest. (The jury’s still out on whether she’s a lighthouse to her friends, but I suspect she might be heading that direction.) I’m just saving the big guns for the big infractions.

As for the friend whose parents woke us at an ungodly hour on Saturday, she is safe at home. I bet she’s grounded for life. And while I don’t want to cast allegations on the parents involved since they are friends of my husband’s and mine, rather than having a helicopter parent the girl needs a lighthouse parent.

Are You There, God, Well Leave Me Alone

The gods are conspiring against me. And I feel like I’m living that Rembrandt’s song, you know the one, the Friend’s theme song. “When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year…”

Somehow another of those days rolled around yesterday bringing with it such wondrous experiences as:

Underestimating how long it would take at the grocery store so that the groceries had to sit in the trunk of the car during my noontime doctor’s appointment. At least there wasn’t any ice cream, although there were meat, eggs, butter, milk, etc.

Remembering after unpacking the groceries that I hadn’t eaten lunch and that the piano teacher was coming tonight. Since she really helped out last week on my day trip to New York City, I needed to buy a card.

Realizing after stopping at the bank, the card store, and McDonald’s that the car needed gas.

Misjudging the driveway curb on the way into the gas station so that on closer inspection while gassing up I discovered the front passenger tire was flat with a huge gash from where the curb cut into it.

Finding out that the owner’s manual wasn’t in the glove compartment so I had no way of knowing how to loosen the jack from its housing in the trunk.

Phoning everyone I knew to call for help and finding no one available so that I considered driving home with a pancake tire.

Eating my cold McDonald's lunch in the car while waiting for help. (Already after 3:00 by now.)

Having my husband (finally off his client call) bring the manual and actually help change the tire so that I didn’t have to pay a tow truck.

Seeing that the spare tire was flat and that the gas station where I was didn’t have an air pump.

Driving ever so carefully and slowly across the six-point intersection to a gas station with an air pump so that I could make it home.

Hearing from my second daughter when I was almost home that she wanted a ride home because she cleaned out her locker today.

Arriving home with the need for a good cry, a long soak in the Jacuzzi, a bourbon, or a combination of any or all of the aforementioned.

As one friend told me, this is God’s retribution for leaving my home state. I always knew my home state was God’s country, but this is ridiculous.

Music to My Wheels

My eldest daughter applied for a week-long pipe organ seminar this summer. Her organ master recommended her for the program since he knows the program director quite well. We had some concern since there are only so many spaces available and we didn't hear about the program until a week before the deadline.

But last night we got an all-but-confirmation email from the director in response to our email letting him know we had mailed her registration form and fee. He said he would look forward to receiving it. Nothing about "Sorry, but the program is filled."

My husband and I sat down with Google Maps and began planning our respective routes to and from New England. He plans to ride her up on his motorcycle so that he can add the New England states to his colored-in map of states that he's ridden in. While I, on the other hand, was mapping out stops on the way back.

Another summer (mini-) road trip! Woo-hoo!

So far on the agenda after leaving the northern New England states are stops in Wellesley, MA; South Hadley, MA; Northampton, MA; Poughkeepsie, NY; New York City; and Bryn Mawr, PA. Yep, six of the Seven Sisters. One can dream, can't she?

Catch-22 mg tid

If you’ve been reading my blogs for a while, you know that there's a tear in my disc which chemically irritates the nerve causing back pain that radiates down my leg. Of all the treatments that the back doctor has tried, I’ve tolerated them fairly well – the epidural steroid shots, the schedule C pain meds, the nerve medicine. Until recently.

The fatigue has been getting worse during the last month. Calling in sick hasn’t been helping as much as it did. The most concerning symptom was on Tuesday on the way to the DAR meeting.

The car started drifting into other lanes. Even a stop for a Krispy Kreme full-caff latte didn’t clear the webs in the head. It was like driving in a mental fog. Even after the meeting and lunch with the ladies, the drive home was no different. I’m forgetting things – like my cell phone, or the grocery list, or words.

While visiting with a friend who’s a nurse, she pulled out her trusty pill book and checked my meds to see what the side effects are. Here are the side effects of my nerve medicine:

drowsiness – yep, got it
tiredness or weakness – got that
dizziness – got that one
headache – ditto
shaking of a part of your body that you cannot control – nope
double or blurred vision – I thought I was just tired
unsteadiness – oh yeah
anxiety – in not knowing what’s wrong with me
memory problems – especially short term
strange or unusual thoughts – um, apparently
unwanted eye movements – does that twitch count?
nausea – not really
vomiting – no
heartburn – yep
diarrhea – nope
dry mouth – very, I drink water like it’s going out of style
constipation – nope
weight gain – that’s what the scale says, I thought I was developing muscle
swelling of the hands, feet, ankles, or lower legs – no
back or joint pain – isn’t it supposed to help with the pain?
fever – no
runny nose, sneezing, cough, sore throat, or flu-like symptoms – for the past four days
ear pain – I thought it was associated with the sore throat
red, itchy eyes (sometimes with swelling or discharge) – I thought it was the pollen

Her diagnosis is that since I’m at the highest dosage for the medicine I’m close to overdosing. Since I’m a single mother again while my husband is on a business trip, I asked a friend to drive me to the internist. My concern lies in what will alleviate the back pain without knocking me off my feet. I can’t spend my life in bed. Unless there’s room service. And cabana boys.

Mulligan Goo

I'm taking a do-over on today. Complete with crawling back into bed with the covers over my head. Let's recap the day so far:

• It's raining.
• While on the phone, I walked out to get in the car not remembering that I was on the land line not my cell phone. I promised my husband I'd call him back on the cell phone when I was in the car.
• At ballet on the first plié, my tights ripped in the crotch seam.
• On the second plié, my knee popped and I ended up wearing a knee brace during the rest of class.
• After class in checking my email on the Blackberry, my lech of an archery coach wants me to deliver his Girl Scout cookies tomorrow morning.
• I finally remembered to call my husband back while running errands.
• On the way home, I drove right past the pharmacy and forgot to drop off my daughter's prescription.
• As I was changing from my ballet outfit back to my civvies, the cat pushed the door open right when I was buck naked and the three guys working on the gardening next door got a cheap thrill.

Methinks I should stop while I'm behind.

Bus a Move

Every parent feels like an unpaid taxi driver. As those cute little bundles of joy get bigger and their extracurricular schedules get more hectic than their former feeding-and-napping schedules, parents are wont to find carpools to help move Child 1 from Place A to Place B so we can swing by the grocery store for milk before picking up Child 2 and the rest of the carpool gang from Place C and be home in time to take Child 3 to Place D and get supper ready before the piano teacher arrives. And that's just Wednesday's schedule.

Last week, my eldest needed to get from the high school to our church for her organ lesson. Usually it wouldn't be a problem. Except that I'm assisting with the after-school ballet classes, so I can't drive her. After checking the bus schedule and giving her a copy of it, I didn't give it a second thought, just assuming that she'd get there just fine. Until I got a phone call between classes.

Uh-oh.

"Where are you, Baby?"

"At the X X."

"Why'd you get off there? The bus lets you off two block from the church."

"I thought I was supposed to change buses."

I didn't have the schedules in front of me so I advised her to call her just-younger sister who knows where to catch the free shuttle in town. After we both got home that evening, I asked her if she found the shuttle. She did. But two blocks from where we was supposed to get off.

This child has got to get her driver's license soon. It would solve so many logistical headaches.

Back to Black

Who’s at fault if a vehicle hits a pedestrian if it’s dark-thirty and the pedestrian is wearing black? While taking a friend home last night, I stopped at an intersection. The powers-that-be of my town have made it downright impossible to see oncoming cross traffic unless you pull across the pedestrian crosswalk and nose your way out past the line of parked cars at the curb. As I started forward across the crosswalk, my friend yelled at me to stop. I looked around and didn’t see anything. But then I saw this man, standing in the crosswalk near the driver's side front bumper, giving me a what-the-f*ck look. He was wearing a black topcoat, black pants, and carrying a black briefcase. As he walked away shaking his head and looking back disapprovingly over his shoulder, I muttered under my breath, “Well, if you weren’t wearing black, people could see you better.”

Heed my warning! Don’t wear black if you know you’re going to be out after dark. If you are wearing black after dark, don’t assume that people can see you even if you’re just a few feet away.

Tomorrow?

Am I sad because it rains or does it rain because I'm sad? My mood and the weather have been on par the past few days. Misty.

As a full-time mom, I spend a lot of time in the car running errands, running kids places, what have you. "Stay-at-home mom" is a misnomer.

Usually my routine would be that when I'm in the car I use the time for phone calls. Okay, don't lecture me on the hazards of driving while on the cell phone. That routine was shattered several weeks ago.

My favorite drive-time phone buddy was my father. We'd talk about nothing, and everything. Since I've been back home, my drives have been much lonelier.

Yesterday as I was driving around in the drizzle, I picked up my phone and had to stop myself from pressing his speed-dial number. Instead, I started calling anyone else I could think of. Almost all of my girlfriends have office jobs and couldn't talk. My other friends were out of pocket and couldn't be reached. Moving down the list, I called my favorite aunt. My uncle told me she was out shopping. She doesn't own a cell phone. I love my uncle, but he's not who I wanted to talk to.

When will the sun come out?