"I been in the right place but it must have been the wrong time" --Dr. John

Tuesday night I am driving home on the Beltway when all four lanes of traffic come to a halt. Urg. After a bit, emergency vehicles whip by on the shoulder, then, ten minutes later we see more on the median. Double urg. As irritating as it is to be stuck in traffic, someone is having a much worse evening than us merely annoyed commuters.

We inch forward. We do that weavy thing where some cars hug the right side of the lane and some hug the left side of the lane just to try to get a glimpse of whatever is causing this. We can't see it; just a sea of tail lights. It takes over an hour of inching along to get up to and past the problem.

In the meantime, there is much jockeying between lanes. I am impressed that, for the most part, people are not being jerks. They are signaling before they switch lanes. They are allowing for others to get over into their lanes. (We're living in a society here!)

But well into the hour, I notice an entrance ramp on the right. And the reason it catches my eye: Someone has decided to use the ENTRANCE ramp to get OFF the Beltway. Clearly they recognize that it is not an exit ramp because THEY ARE BACKING UP! Yes. They are backing up on the shoulder --thank god for the shoulder-- of the rather long entrance ramp.

This seems to me to be incredibly dangerous, illegal, and --though I risk insulting readers here-- just plain stupid.

Does this make sense to anybody? Have you done this? Would you do this? How bad would you need a bathroom to try something like this? Wouldn't the scare of doing this defeat the need to get to a bathroom?

"People, they're the worst"--J. Seinfeld

As long as we're talking about interactions...

A long-standing peeve of mine: People who don't know how to carry on a decent conversation. Those who've met me will never label me a scintillating conversationalist but there are people that don't even seem to get the basic ebb and flow concept.

These are people that, upon a question from you, will gladly talk about themselves for forty-five minutes without pausing to see if you're paying attention (or still alive) but once they finally wind down, will just sit there, basting in their own juices, rather than learn anything about you.

You ever find yourself next to these people at a dinner party? It's brutal. You ask Wally a pleasant, polite question and suddenly it's "The Wally Show" and there's no off switch.

So, fine. you now know way more than you wanted to about Wally. Okay, you asked. Fair enough. But then Wally sits and stares.

Wally doesn't know anything about you and can't be bothered to ask. No "What do you do?" No "Tried the cheese dip?" No "Single or multiple?" Nothing.

A variant of this but no less irritating, are the people that can't be bothered to respond with more than a one word answer, much less show a polite interest in you.

Me: So, how do you know Sally?

Dick: Work.

Me: Uh-huh...

Dick: *stares into middle distance*

Me: Do you like the company?

Dick: Eh. *stares into middle distance*

Me: *stabs self in eye*

How is this acceptable?

"Some girl to thrill me and then go away"--John Mellencamp

[A different way to a simple relationship.]


Do you have people in your life that are there for one specific reason and nothing else? No, not a booty call. Well, maybe for some of you, that's what it is.

Here's what I mean... I know someone at work that I have nothing in common with except one very specific thing: we both like to travel. So, when we cross paths a couple times a year, we pounce on each other with "Where were you last?" or "Where are you thinking of going next?" Immediately animated, we share pros and cons of a particular island, share what we've heard about different resort chains, swap information on new booking sites, etc.

And then we talk about nothing else. Nothing. We go about our lives.

We've established that this is our only common ground. We accept that we'll never swap recipes or get tattoos together. We're certainly not going to travel together.

And that works. Remarkably well. Ours is sort of the idiot savant of relationships. One dimension deep. And deeply one dimensional. It's so refreshing!

4th Annual Silent Blogger Poetry Thingy

And now for something completely different...

I have too short an attention span for most poems. Even long greeting cards get put back on the shelf, unread.*

But I do have some favorite poetry snippets. Without further ado, here is my entry into the 4th Annual Silent Blogger Poetry Reading.**

[Feel free to picture me on a tacky bar stage, dressed all in black, reading this to myself. (It's a silent reading, fergawdsake.)]


Three from W.S. Merwin and one from Rumi:

There was never a time
when you were not walking toward me
from under great trees.
--Merwin

Late I came to the joy of this
whatever I have
is yours.
--Merwin

In my dreams
we keep traveling together
face to face.
--Merwin

Come to the orchard in Spring. There is light and wine, and sweethearts in the pomegranate flowers. If you do not come, these do not matter. If you do come, these do not matter.
--Rumi



*My favorite greeting card of all time has a picture of a dog on the the front and its leg is actually a separate piece of paper that is attached with a spring so it looks like the dog is scratching itself. Inside it says "I'm itching to wish you a happy birthday!"

GET IT?! GET IT?!!

'Cause I'm deep like that.

*sniff* Ah, good times.

**For the romantics in the crowd, these (and others) were all readings at our wedding. Insert "awww" here. I know, we're nauseating. (You're a shmoopy! No, you're a shmoopy!)

"Although nothing seems right in cars" --Gary Numan

[Not the situation Friday night.]


We had a strange experience Friday night. I know. Strange in DC. That never happens. *rolls eyes*

A little stage setting:

We have company for the weekend and the four of us meet up with another two friends for dinner and a comedy show Friday night. The four of us have Metro'd in and walked the two blocks to the restaurant. It is maybe 20 degrees out, but luckily none of us notices how cold the temperature is because we're too busy freaking out over the wind chill which makes it feel like -75 degrees.

We have a great meal (at Sonoma) and the six of us debate about how to get to the show. It is eight blocks away. We can walk the eight blocks in the howling wind. We can cab. We can walk the two blocks in the howling wind, get on the Metro, go one stop, get off the Metro and walk another two blocks in the howling wind. Or we can cram into the car of our friends, who drove to the restaurant.

Decision made. We will squeeze into Friend's car. We walk the block and a half to Friend's car and here's where it gets weird.

Friend has done a miraculous parallel parking job in a very tight space, despite the fact that his car is a compact but the space is more Smart Car sized. I notice that the car behind his has about three feet of room behind it.

There is a couple, standing on the sidewalk looking at Friend's car. Let's give them a random name so you can keep the players straight. How about: Mr. & Mrs. Ass.

Mr. Ass is just staring at Friend's car. Mrs. Ass is holding a newspaper, pretending to read it, in the howling wind. Yeah, not too strange. She continues this behavior through 99% of the encounter. Did I mention that it feels like -75 out?

The conversation goes something like this...

Mr. Ass: That's your car.

Friend: Yes. Is that your car? *pointing to the car behind his*

Mr. Ass: Yes, the one you hit.

At this point, we all stop and look at the two car's mingle point. Where it is true that Friend has his back bumper kissing the license plate of Mr. Ass' car, both cars appear to be perfectly intact. Not a ding, not a dimple, not a scratch.

Several of us: It doesn't look like it./Where?/No, I don't think so.

Mr. Ass, in a quiet but angry voice: He hit my car.

Me: They're very close but, actually, I can see a sliver of light between his bumper and your plate.

Mr. Ass: He's probably going to hit it again.

One of us: Are you leaving? Looks like you have a lot of room to back up.

(No response.)

Friend gets into his car to start to remove it from the very tight space.

Friend continues to maneuver a few inches up and back and gently touches Mr. Ass' bumper again.

Mr. Ass: He hit my car again!

Me, indicating Mr. Ass' car: Woudn't it be easier if this car was just backed up a few feet?

(No response.)

Me: It just seems logical...

(No response.)

Friend gets the car out of the space in under a minute and we all hop in and take off. At this point, Mrs. Ass lowers the paper and follows us a few steps into the street. I wonder briefly if she is checking for Friend's license plate number. Not sure what she'd do with it as there was no damage to either vehicle. Maybe she was hoping we'd take her with us.

So, WTF?

Friend was maneuvering at a very slow speed. He never damaged his or Mr. Ass' car. Friend did tap Mr. Ass' car at maybe 3 miles per hour. Isn't that exactly what bumpers are made for? Isn't that why they call them bumpers?!

Could this man have been any more difficult? And it wasn't like Mr. Ass was driving a mint condition Rolls Royce. It was a very average looking car. So, again, I gotta go with: WTF?