Wednesday, May 24, 2017

When in Boston...

The wife and I just finished a whirlwind tour of the Boston area. We had just enough time to do some sight-seeing and then head back to our safe and welcoming Midwest. Since it was raining and as the Red Sox were out of town, we tried to pick some indoor activities to enjoy. (I wasn't motivated enough to walk the Freedom Trail or hang out on the USS Constitution in the cold rain.)

Now, I've driven repeated in Chicago proper in rush hour traffic without issue. I am not one to worry about driving in big cities. I've zipped along the six lane highways in Southern California. I've enjoyed "no left turns in New Jersey" outings. I've survived the Dallas area "Mix Master." That said, I'm no fool--I know driving in Boston is out of my league.

So, I did what all smart spouses would do: I had the wife drive.

I didn't exactly tell her about how driving in Boston was sure to be a terrifying ordeal. I figured the less she knew, the better chance of survival we'd have. Okay--I didn't tell her anything besides Boston streets don't go in a straight line. I showed her a quick view view the cell phone map, so I suppose that kinda-sorta told her something. I didn't tell her about the tunnels or the weird exits from inside the tunnel to outside the tunnel. Thankfully, she was too distracted by the fact our rental car only had 80 miles on it when we got it. She was worried for the car, not for us.

If you get bored, you really should take a look at a map of Boston. You'll see what I mean. It looks like someone puked a bunch of squiggly lines and decided those should be streets.

Having a cell phone map is worthless. Having the lady on the cell phone map telling you what to do is almost as worthless. Perhaps she too vomited up a bunch of directions and decided this would be a good route to take. "In 600 feet, make a slight left. In 400 feet, stay left. In 400 feet, stay right. In a half a mile, make a u-turn and proceed to route." I'm not making that crap up. There wasn't even time to get mad at each other as we were always making turns, avoiding large moving objects and watching out for the infamous "Boston Left."

I cannot do justice to what it's like to drive in Boston as I'm still suffering from PTBD (post traumatic Boston disorder). I found an Internet post that is absolutely, positively PERFECT about this topic. In fact, it's so perfect, I'm posting it here. I believe this may be the most genius thing ever written about Boston driving. I've added a few of my own comments within Mark's comments, as indicated in BRIGHT BLUEThe link is  http://www.masshole.com/driving.html

Driving in Boston: Submitted by MahkThe geographical center of Boston is in Roxbury. Due north of the center we find the South End. This is not to be confused with South Boston, which lies directly east from the South End. North of the South End is East Boston and southwest of East Boston is the North End. And, the Back Bay was filled in years ago.   

Addiverse: That is the most perfect description of Boston ever written. Ever. I gave up the "which way is north" way of thinking. God love you, Mark. This is genius. And, terrifying. No tourist should read this before going to Boston lest you not go.
Basic Rules for Driving in Boston (subject to change at any time):
  1. Always look right and left before proceeding through a green light. I found this quite odd but agree that it is true. Since cars are shooting out every which-way and as people are turning left in front of you and as the official Rules of the Road as seen as a mere suggestion, we looked as we proceeded into intersections. Who knew you'd have to look left and right when having the right of way via green light? 
  2. When on a one way street, stay to the right to allow for oncoming traffic to pass.
  3. Never, ever stop for a pedestrian unless he flings himself under the wheels of your car.  As a part-time pedestrian, I attest this to be true.
  4. The first parking space you see will be the last parking space you see. Grab it.
  5. Learn to swerve abruptly. Boston is the home of slalom driving, thanks to the Department of Transportation, which puts potholes in key locations to test drivers' reflexes and keep them on their toes.
  6. Never get in the way of a car that needs extensive bodywork.
  7. Double-park in the North End of Boston and South Boston, unless triple-parking is available. We never did figure out the parking rules. There were parked cars everywhere.
  8. Always look both ways when running a red light. One would think this not be needed, but it is. Red light running is a sport, perfected by the Bostonian.
  9. Honk your horn the instant the light changes. We saw no one use their blinkers. We did hear a lot of honking. Blinkers, no. We probably looked like true tourists with all the blinking we did.
  10. Breakdown lanes are not for breaking down, but for speeding, especially during rush hour. Breakdown lanes may also end without warning causing traffic jams as people merge back in.
  11. If you should break down, allow your vehicle to come to a stop in the center lane. If road conditions are hazardous, exit your vehicle, without looking, and stand next to it, with your back to oncoming traffic.
  12. Never use directional signals when changing lanes. They only warn other drivers to speed up and not let you in. Amen.
  13. To signal a lane change, look in the direction you're about to go, as you do so. Wearing a baseball cap is considered an extra safety measure.
  14. Making eye contact revokes your right of way.
  15. Never pass on the left when you can pass on the right.
  16. Whenever possible, stop in the middle of a crosswalk to ensure inconveniencing as many pedestrians as possible. And if a pedestrian ahead of you steps into the road, speed up loudly and chase them up on the curb. Pedestrians have no rights.
  17. On a multi-lane highway, always drive in the left lane, even if there are others wanting to pass. Stay in the left lane until the last possible instant before cutting across all lanes to the exit.
  18. When making a left turn at an intersection with a red light, glare at the oncoming drivers, inch your way into the intersection, and floor it when the green light from the other direction turns yellow. I cannot tell you how often we saw this. Perhaps the infamous Boston Left Turn should be considered sport, too. 
  19. When merging, floor it, as you hit the "on ramp" and proceed immediately to the furthest left hand lane. I cannot tell you how many times I heard the wife exclaim, "These people do not know how to merge!"
  20. When road conditions are hazardous, swerve in and out of lanes, to pass slower moving vehicles.
  21. Communicating with other drivers and pedestrians is important. Gesture often.
  22. The furthest right lane is reserved for passing. The furthest left lane is reserved for slower moving vehicles.
  23. Always bring your cell phone with you. Highway driving is a perfect time to chat with your friends and loved ones.
  24. If you miss your exit, stop abruptly and back up.
  25. When another car pulls up close behind you and "flashes their brights", slam on your breaks.
  26. When entering a tunnel, always slow down and pause before entering, even if there is no traffic or reason for delay. We wondered about this. The entrances to tunnels were always at a dead stop, but once in, there didn't seem to be reason. Who knew?
  27. When faced with a lane detour, due to construction, always pass as many complying vehicles as possible, wait until the last possible second, then swerve into the specified lane.
  28. Be prepared for abundant construction detours.
  29. Taxi Cab drivers are highly trained professionals. Observe and learn from their masterful techniques and driving skills.
  30. Only those pedestrians not looking where they're going, head and eyes fixed firmly forward, are allowed to cross in front of traffic. Be sure to "break" hard and stop as close to them as possible.
    • Tip: Only pedestrians crossing within "Cross Walks" have legal rights. Pedestrians outside of "Cross Walks" are "fair game".
Mark--er, Mahk--got it right. Or, left. Or, Boston left. I can't put it any better. Give me a Wisconsin-I-always-drive-in-the-left-lane kind of driver any day. I'll never complain about that again.

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Ode to a Wild Mama: 1970’s style

Great news! A Baltimore Oriole stopped by my little orange feeder last week! I was so excited I almost couldn't breathe. I tried to take a photo but I was so excited and my phone was out of arm's reach, so I only got a blurry snapshot before he hit the road. Although I have yet to see another orange friend, I must say knowing that I had success makes me tickled pink. I can tell something took a nibble out of the orange a day or two after his visit but I haven't had the pleasure of witnessing another visit. I shall keep the faith. It's like a bird fest out there, so I have plenty to watch as I wait for another oriole visit. There's a Cardinal splashing all the water out of the bird bath; yellow finches are hanging upside down on the thistle feeder; the robins are out of control in their singing; and, a grackle just missed smacking into the patio door window. The baby chipping sparrows are demanding a meal from their mom (or dad, as the case might be). It's a good day to be a bird in the Addiverse. ***************************************************************

It's Mother's Day! Happy Mother's Day to all you mamas. This year, I thought I'd write an ode to my wild mama. As I wrote it, I realized that most of you won't know what the hell I am talking about. Well, too bad--it's my mama and I'm gonna write an ode if I want to. (You'll get the gist of things. It's short and sweet, so even if you don't understand, it won't take long to enjoy.) 

I decided to base my ode on the 1970's. Seemed like a plan. If it helps, you should know that my mother was our girl scout leader. She was active in the PTA. Every summer, she filled up the car and zipped us off to "the cottage." My sister and I were way ahead of the pack because our family ate McDonald's at the time of the Big Mac's birth. She still bowls and I'm pretty sure she still makes a mean stew. 

And so, I give to you my ode. Happy Mother's Day, Wild Mama!

Ode to a Wild Mama: 1970’s style
Nineteen Seventy Something-Something
A Volunteer to lead the girls in green, cookies in hand.
Taking the Girl Scout Oath on the road
Screaming grade school girls with sleeping bags
Bravely facing the wild
Hiking through the woods at night
Flashlights turned off….
Was that a bat? THAT WAS A BAT!
Wait--we're missing a girl. Count them again!
Giggling, wiggling, screeching
Why aren’t they sleeping?
Saturday night revenge with pots and pans.


Nineteen Seventy Something-Something
A suntan, sun-worshipping sun-goddess
loads the family car
Food, clothing, toys, towels, portable radio, swimsuits.
Folding chairs for good measure.
An annual short trip north to Sun on the beach
Pier oversees the green-algae lake.
Sandy beach perfect for baby-oiled sun tanning.
Trips to Town, a stop at Ben Franklin, a bucket of chicken for dinner.
Dice games, board games on the porch,
Sunrise over the lake in the wee hours
Matt Nolans, Up-This-Hill.


Nineteen Seventy Something-Something
Pork Chops, Mashed Potatoes, Corn
Stew with peas-licked-clean by the family dog
McDonalds on Tuesday nights.(Please don't make us eat vegetables and just say no to cube steaks.)
PTA ladies cooking up vats of infamous barbeque
(best Barbeque ever—even to this day!)
Lovingly served with milk and Hostess cupcake
wrapped in white paper
Always order two.


Nineteen Seventy Something-Something
Bowling in leagues, bowling for fun.Bowling trophies, trips and pots.
Bowling on weekdays, weekends, as needed.
Bowling goddess, rolls on and on.


Nineteen Seventy Something-Something
Sums it up....
Blue Mustang
Elvis
Mac Davis
Elvis
Blue Mustang.

Definitely a wild mama.



Sunday, May 07, 2017

Catching Up, Shutting Up

I'm sitting in the kitchen, looking at the sad and lonely oranges that I have provided for the non-existent Orioles. I refuse to give up but the chances grow slimmer every day. The wife is sick of my orange and bird bath rituals. I say to her she knows not what she is saying. I tried some grape jelly, too but that didn't help. I did attract some ants but that doesn't count. At least I should get a few hummingbirds out of this deal sometime during the warmer months.

No offense to all the other beautiful birds hanging out in our yard. They are much appreciated.... but, they are not the elusive Baltimore Oriole.

None of the other birds appear interested in the oranges or jelly but they do seem to continue their love fest with the bird bath. I don't think anyone else is hogging the Orioles in our neighborhood. I think they must be somewhere else, like the next town over. I'll shit on myself when one finally lands on the bird feeder. Someday. Someday they will arrive and I'll shit.

On another note, it's come to my attention that the Wife is NOT reading my blog. Well, not that I can tell. She's not on Facebook and she's not blogging. So, I say all is fair and I'm going to write about her all I want. Maybe I'll start posting photos. That'll teach her. Heh heh.

I will tell you that she is currently completing a "safe driver" course on line right now. That's what happens when you don't stop fully at a stop sign. I can tell she is NOT enjoying it. I still think it's a great idea because if she can go for a specified time of year, the ticket will magically disappear off her record. No more teasing me when I come to a full and complete stop.

In my work world, I've been assigned to be a project manager for new software development and implementation. This may or may not sound like something I would do; after all, I was an art major and am a counselor by trade. I have no formal education on using computers. That said, I am a huge nerd and like this kind of stuff. I had the opportunity to do the same thing (albeit without being the  official project manager) but this time it's different. I'm really trying to not be a bitch about the whole thing. A kinder, gentler approach is in the works. I've been watching videos and reading manuals all weekend. I had a rocky start to the project, but that's because I was nervous, not incompetent. Now that the first meeting is out of the way and I've had time to dig into the "stuff," I'm ready for tomorrow's meeting.

This time, I won't hand out the wrong agenda. I'll also sit so I can actually hear the conference call.

The allergens in the air are off the chart these days. Although the trees are amazingly beautiful, they've set my sinuses ablaze and my eyes a-watering. I love this time of year but do not enjoy the allergies that accompany the beauty. I take OTC meds but they seem to have given up.

Maybe the Orioles are having allergies, too and they'll show up once the trees are done blooming.

As a public service announcement, I suggest you check out "The Shut Up Sisters" if you have a child with mental illness, you are a teacher for students with IEPs or you cross paths with kids in public. We saw them speak yesterday and found them to be fabulous. They are a hoot. The idea is that imperfection is perfection when it comes to kids, encouraging proud but braggy parents to "shut up about your perfect kid." It's the "movement of imperfection." Who doesn't love that? It sounds kind of mean, that shut up word, but it's really not. It's real. It's life. It's imperfectly perfect. They have a website, a blog, a book and a fabulous FB page. They travel the globe spreading their message. Chek out www.shutupabout.com

As for the government, I have nothing whatsoever to say that might be even remotely constructive, so I'll skip that topic except to encourage use of RESIST via text. Yes, if you text RESIST to 50409, faxes will be sent to your legislators. It is super-easy, it's free, it's therapeutic and it's effective. I'm so pissed about health care and all those ridiculous men making decisions for women's health that I have to do something and texting is complimentary to the hate mail I send.

So far, the FBI or Homeland Security hasn't shown up at my door, demanding to meet the crazed woman who sends hate mail to Republicans. Of course, now that I including this in my blog, I'll probably get a visit. Boy, will they be disappointed.

Perhaps they'll be able to tell me where the Orioles are hiding. Maybe there is some secret tracking device on our house that emits vibes scaring the Orioles away. Maybe it's the microwave sending out bird-alienating beams, keeping every Oriole in the neighborhood far away.

Bird alienating beams. I like that. I'm going to start a RESIST movement about that.

Maybe they are illegal alien birds and they've been sent back to Mexico or whatever country them came from after their winter holiday. That certainly would explain everything. I'm not sure where to send a text about that but I'm sure some hate mail will feel therapeutic.

I end with 50409. RESIST. I'm resisting. I'm texting. I'm project managing. I'm birding. (I'm sneezing.) RESIST with me....

....And, shut up about your perfect birds if the Orioles are in your yard. I don't wanna hear it.

***************************************
Shut up, indeed.
Shut Up about Your Perfect Gift
***************************************

Tuesday, May 02, 2017

Professing Finals

Boy, am I glad it is finally time for Final Exams. This adjunct professor thing is sucking up all my free time.

For the record, it is REALLY fun to be the creator of a college-level exam. I mean, seriously--I.am.writing.university.exams! I HAVE THE POWER! Oh, the power, the glory--how it goes to my head.

It's been super distracting to teach this semester. For instance, I didn't even notice I haven't done my laundry in awhile because I've been making presentations and researching exam questions. It wasn't until I could no longer squeeze dirty clothes into the hamper this afternoon that I realized I was neglecting this ever-important task. I didn't notice that I was negligent--again--about posting a blog. I haven't even watched each new Doctor Who episode more than one time. People, this educator gig is serious business.

I finally got to use my faculty I.D. card--at Chipotles, no less. Thanks to the wife, I learned that today is Teacher Appreciation Day at Chipotles, complete with free Burritos. Teachers must love Chipotles (or, more likely love free food), as the line was out the door. No kidding. Educators everywhere, as far as the eye can see, all proudly wearing their school identification tags.

I am sad to say that I was older than the majority of the people standing in that line. Dang. Alas, most of my teacher friends retire at age 57 or so, which means they would not be the ones standing in line for free burritos. They are at home enjoying retirement, not standing in line for free burritos. Well, I tell you what--that free burrito bowl kicked ass!

Speaking of advancing age... last night, a group of students in my class did a presentation on Aging and Death. This group, four freshmen, had lots to say about old people and dying. A few times, I burst out laughing. I couldn't help myself. Their view of old age was very telling. Oh, to be young and naive.

I think my favorite statement of the presentation was: "Old people pee a lot. They pee all the time." Spoken like a true 19 year old.

I challenged their belief that people my age and older basically break bones, fall down and pee. Thankfully, they didn't talk about old people and sex.

Why am I glad they didn't talk about that? Because that meant I got to talk about old people having sex. Yes! It was super-fun to watch students squirm when told "YOUR PARENTS ARE HAVING SEX!" Oh, the joy it did bring.

The group got an "A" for their effort, although I was a bit dismayed at how they view people of my age and older. Every once in awhile they would make a comment, look mortified, turn toward me and apologize.

"It is what it is," I told them, shrugging my shoulders and gently shaking my head. I waited until the end of their presentation--while they were playing "The Death March" and taking a bow--to loudly remind them that old people have sex.

That'll teach them to play the death march and talk about peeing.

No, I didn't have the heart to tell them that their grandparents were probably having sex, too. That might have killed those 19 year olds.

This semester, I had three women from China and three men from Saudi Arabia in my class. In an effort to be culturally diverse, I thought I'd put some comments in Chinese and Arabic on the final handout I provided. At first, I thought this was a great idea... but, in the long run, this made me very nervous--after all, I used Google Translate to say "thank you and best wishes" in what I hoped was their native language. I had no idea if what I posted was correct. I could have written "Your Arm Pits Smell Like Old People Pee" and I wouldn't have known it. As I handed them the printed pages, I asked meekly what it said. I am glad to report that they were tickled pink and all agreed that I had said what I hoped I had said....

....well, except for the one young women from China. Turns out she's from Japan and not China. She reads Japanese, not Chinese.

So, she didn't agree or disagree about what I wrote. She couldn't read it.

All semester. An entire semester and I thought she was from China. I can't tell you how many times I apologized. So much for my cultural competence. She said, "No worries," (that's a quote) but I was indeed shaken up. I mean, seriously! Turns out I am one self-absorbed, culturally-pathetic, culturally incompetent American. She appeared to get quite the laugh out of it. Me, not so much.

For the final exam, I think I'll include something in Japanese. Maybe something like, "Safe Travels. Thank you! I'm really sorry!" That might be a good way to make up for my horrible, embarrassing error.

...Well, that is unless Google Translate has a bad day. Then, I might be making things a whole lot worse. God help me it says something like, "Your old parents smell like pee and have sex while eating burrito bowls for teachers."

My cultural competence would be in the gutter....

...my clothes still dirty in the hamper...

...and my pee volume ever increasing....

...and my faculty I.D. revoked....

...and no more free burrito bowls for me.

Maybe I'll stick with good old English and leave it at that. As long as I don't fall done, break a bone and pee on myself.