DLand - Just When Things Look Darkest

Everybody seems to be having a crappy day lately. My husband didn't get the job he was hoping to get (for very unknown reasons - even his current boss was stunned he didn't get it). My boss said that on a scale of 1 to 100 today was about a 10 for him in the history of working for our company. My mom is still mostly bed-ridden with her pinched nerve. Kim's having relationship troubles. Hmm. And all I had was one stinky hour or so with the most insane librarian in New England. Overall, my trip to CrazyLand was pretty good. I ate fried plantains last night. They were just as Cheri described them - like bananas, but not. We ate at a Cuban seafood restaurant. Bossman had a good point that the Cuban seafood he had in Miami was probably a little better that what Massachusetts has to offer, but overall, it was very tasty.

And now, I'm on a plane in first class with my apple juice and Cape Cod potato chips, heading home. Not quite sipping Foster's in the shade, but I'm doing pretty well for myself.

I read earlier today that the Chinese government is trying to say they will choose who the Dalai Lama's successor will be. I'm not really sure how they can realistically make a statement like that. Chinese government and spirituality don't seem to be two fortunes in the same cookie. The article explained how all sorts of things his Holiness said have been refuted or undermined. Apparently, there was a successor named for another Tibetan holy man years ago, but China decided to pick some other random child. The one that his Holiness chose was never heard from again. It's got to be incredibly frustrating to be that man. But when you ask him if he's happy, he says yes without the slightest hesitation. His country was occupied, he lives in exile, and his people are imprisoned and tortured for even having a picture of him. Yet he somehow still finds happiness in the world. That's got to count for something. I would like to meet him one day.

(Charlie Brown's teacher seems to be moonlighting as a pilot for US Airways, because I didn't understand a single thing he just said.)

Life is funny sometimes when you think that everything is just gonna be horrible and then you gain a little perspective. I was all cranky about my car and then I realized that it's pretty keen compared to some other cars that I could be driving. I just spent three fascinating days in a Dodge Neon and have no desire to ever go near one again. Makes my little midget-mobile seem pretty state of the art and hip. I resigned myself to owning it for a bit longer and have even started putting bumper stickers on it. That's the first stage of car commitment.

And Dan told me a funny story yesterday. Russ, my co-worker, went to buy a new Sprint phone from the Sprint store. It's the latest model that's very expensive and the only other one the store had sold was to the store owner/manager guy. So the salesboy starts showing Russ how to program the phone but doesn't really know what he's doing. Owner/Manager Guy takes Russ to the back room to show him how to download stuff for the phone and program it all. The phone has photo caller-id, meaning that when someone calls, you can have it display a picture of them as well. Owner/Manager Guy had a very un-flattering photo of a monkey for when silly salesboy calls. It was kinda funny. Guess you had to be there.

(I just found a four leaf clover. Ok, so it was on an interstate south of Hartford but, it was there all the same.)

I finished a very fine traveling music mix earlier this week. I think I will only change one or two songs before calling it perfect. Now just have to find a good cover for it. There is a fine art to making music mixes. I have been making them for eons, and would record strange things off of the radio just to find good snippets to insert into mixes (there were some doosies from the Gore/Perot debates I found on NPR years ago). And now it just all seems too easy. The actual science of building the mix (on a cd even) is child's play. No worrying about how to fit the songs on each side of the tape. No graphics you rob from magazines are large enough to make good jacket covers in the jewel cases. It seems to be a lost art form. I only have the juxtaposition of artists and genres to amuse me. Enh, perhaps I put more effort into them than is worth it. But it sure does make me happy.

Maybe that's his Holiness' secret too.

DLand - Head Nod and a Smile

I must remember what it felt like today to drive around. Remind me of this entry when it's February and there is ice everywhere and I refuse to go near the 4WD money pit. I drove the Jeep to work today. Ostensibly, it was so Sweetpea could replace the battery in my Saturn while I was at work. But I took the extra time to take off the doors and roll up the back. I pretended I didn't hear the horrible grating noise of the clutch going bad as I slid out of the driveway and then eased out of the neighborhood. The tire noise and wind quickly put all that of my mind. And I was driving the time of my life.

This 1983 Jeep CJ7 Renegade has an extremely small wheel base and sloppy steering so I can weave in the lanes (on purpose) in time to the music on the radio and still not touch other traffic. I can hang my leg out the door and rest it on the front fender at stop lights. I could lean way out and touch other cars (although I think that violates some sort of unwritten vehicle personal space rule).

It is a perfect Jeep day. Get out your barometers and hydrometers and testify to this. Make thorough notes on it. I'm savoring every piece of it. Because in three months, when the doors are back on and the top is snapped tight and the plastic windows are fogged over from the temperature difference I must be able to flash back immediately to this day to remember why we would still own said money pit and why we would want to buy $500 worth of tires for it and $500 worth of new suspension and of course the $200 clutch.

I will need to be able to meditate while in the high speed tractor that it is and remember today. How my new haircut doesn't tangle in the wind. How strangers wave at me when they see me (in their little metal boxes all cramped up and tight). How good it feels to be in a car that deserves a head nod and a smile and occasionally a "rock on" hand gesture. Hyundai drivers don't do that stuff to each other on the road.

DLand - Tub Safety Rules

My butt hurts. Don't think this is all gonna be some self-pitying rant about my pain and suffering. I'm in a pretty good mood, all things considered. Just keepin' the public informed on my health concerns. See I was in the tub scrubbing the sand and coal dust off the bottom of it. And I decided that the best way to do this was on my hands and knees in the tub. I was originally going to just shave my legs but didn't want to sit in aforementioned sand and coal dust. Well, Tilex is slippery and my legs buckled, I toppled backwards and I badly scraped/bruised my right butt cheek on the tub faucet. Life is funny sometimes. In retrospect, it's pretty weird - almost funny. But at the time it was just the whipped cream topping on the turd pie my day was shaping up to be.

So, what are you gonna do? Jeremy was downstairs in the garage and was expecting me to take a shower anyways. I could have bled to death before he even realized I was missing. So I just soldiered up and continued cleaning the tub through the "goddammit" tears. Grr. Still managed to shave my legs. But the towel I had in the bathroom was covered in dog hair for some unknown reason so when I tried to dry off I ended up looking like and extra for Planet of the Apes. This was about the time Jeremy came to check on me and I threw the offending towel at him and requested a new one while I sulked in the remaining tub water.

I have two cute little bandaids on my butt, though, courtesy of Sweetpea.

I'm on the road again - this time in Massachusetts. I told the guy at the ticket counter that I was going to BDL. He just looked at me and blinked. Then he got this wry smile and said, "Are you leaving ORF and flying through PHL?" I said, "Yes. Exactly. Leaving at 5:50." I could not for the life of me remember the name of my arriving city. Hartford. That's right. Bah. It's all the same.

My wake-up call comes early tomorrow and I'm still at BDL and not in the BOS area like I should be, so the cosmic entry will wait til another day. Be careful in the shower, folks. Use the buddy system if you have to.