...perhaps thankfully, i don't actually know the lyrics to that song, so there is very little change of it replacing o.a.r., which is currently playing on my mental jukebox.
i just finished recording the weather reports for my radio shift, and again today, our high temperature is supposed to be in the upper 90s. i'm currently shivering in our highly air conditioned building, but when i get off work at noon, out into the blast furnace i go.
there was a report earlier this week about how an alarming number of american children are suffering from vitamin d deficiencies.
in this era of computer games, wiis, xboxes, playstations, and the internet, is this really a surprise? when was the last time you saw kids outside, playing, in the middle of the day? i mean, i hate to sound like an old fogey, but when i was little, mama would kick sibling and i outside and tell us not to come back for a couple of hours.
before anyone calls child welfare and asks them to act retroactively, i should point out that in the middle of summer, when temps in baltimore topped 85 degrees, we weren't kicked out for as long, and would be allowed in for tang and some quality time in front of the air conditioner vent.
summertime also inspired daddy to dig out the pool from the garage. the first one i remember was pretty small (then again, so were we) and had inflatable sides. i think there might have been rainbows on it, but frankly, the stronger memory is of the "discussion" i had with mama (i think i was about four at the time)about how i had to wear a swimsuit in the pool, or else i wasn't going to be allowed to get into it at all.
as we got older, we got a bigger pool, including the inground one in kansas city that was ripped out a few years ago....and when i headed off to college, there was the infamous elmo sprinkler. the point is: we still found ways to spend time outside.
so, i suppose i'll attempt to frolic in the sunshine after work (though i cannot promise to give it full effort, because really, how bouncy can one feel when it's 95 degrees), in an effort to stave off ailments brought on by vitamin d deficiency, and then perhaps i'll head home for a nap in front of the a/c vent- just like back in the day....
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Sunday, August 02, 2009
who are you, again?
it's always a little disappointing to learn that something you've believed about someone for a very long time just isn't true.
first, it was the easter bunny. (i still dispute that one, as i once had my picture taken with the one and only easter bunny, after finding the golden egg at the woodlawn easter egg hunt back in 1986.*)
then, my sibling was kind enough to point out that kermit had poles stuck to his arms.
(i'd offer up the "luke, i am your father" example, but that's a bit cliché, don't you think?)
i was the last to find out that richard simmons, little richard, and george michael were gay. (i'm starting to have a sneaking suspicion about tim curry, too, but i'm still not quite sure.)
and please, don't ask how old i was when i learned that wasn't david bowie's real hair in the labyrinth. the answer is in the double digits, and i can't guarantee that the first digit is a "1".
i could go on and on, but after a point, one's ignorance becomes a little..... embarrassing.
the subject came up during dinner one night this week. while one of my companions was frantically searching for her debit card and worrying about the possibility of spending the rest of her night washing dishes, i pointed out that we could hold a telethon instead. after all, surely jerry lee lewis wasn't doing anything this weekend.
you know- jerry lee lewis. the guy who married his thirteen year old cousin, made a bunch of annoying comedies during the black and white era of television, and now does those "jerry's kids" telethons for muscular dystrophy. (despite this, he's still called "the killer", except during the telethons.....because it would be a little awkward, i suppose.)
i can't stand that guy. i mean, i admire the work he does for mda, but really- bonking a thirteen year old, a relative, and especially a thirteen year old who happens to be your relative- is just plain gross. furthermore, eddie murphy was far better as the nutty professor.
my "mistaken identity" problem was quickly pointed out to me- in stereo. since i did not completely escape the "stubbornness" gene that seems to be dominant in both of my parents, of course i swore i would google it (man- i remember when i was little and we actually had to go to the library so that mama could prove the existance of thomas crapper to me....maybe the nation's obesity epidemic can be blamed on the convenience of googling, rather than having to actually go to the library and wander around the stacks to do research....) when i got home, just so i could prove them wrong.
uh, yeah. my bad.
i suppose santa claus will be next.....
*yes, i have photo evidence of this....and i'm sure this rather stunning photo of myself will be all over the tabloids when i'm rich and famous.
first, it was the easter bunny. (i still dispute that one, as i once had my picture taken with the one and only easter bunny, after finding the golden egg at the woodlawn easter egg hunt back in 1986.*)
then, my sibling was kind enough to point out that kermit had poles stuck to his arms.
(i'd offer up the "luke, i am your father" example, but that's a bit cliché, don't you think?)
i was the last to find out that richard simmons, little richard, and george michael were gay. (i'm starting to have a sneaking suspicion about tim curry, too, but i'm still not quite sure.)
and please, don't ask how old i was when i learned that wasn't david bowie's real hair in the labyrinth. the answer is in the double digits, and i can't guarantee that the first digit is a "1".
i could go on and on, but after a point, one's ignorance becomes a little..... embarrassing.
the subject came up during dinner one night this week. while one of my companions was frantically searching for her debit card and worrying about the possibility of spending the rest of her night washing dishes, i pointed out that we could hold a telethon instead. after all, surely jerry lee lewis wasn't doing anything this weekend.
you know- jerry lee lewis. the guy who married his thirteen year old cousin, made a bunch of annoying comedies during the black and white era of television, and now does those "jerry's kids" telethons for muscular dystrophy. (despite this, he's still called "the killer", except during the telethons.....because it would be a little awkward, i suppose.)
i can't stand that guy. i mean, i admire the work he does for mda, but really- bonking a thirteen year old, a relative, and especially a thirteen year old who happens to be your relative- is just plain gross. furthermore, eddie murphy was far better as the nutty professor.
my "mistaken identity" problem was quickly pointed out to me- in stereo. since i did not completely escape the "stubbornness" gene that seems to be dominant in both of my parents, of course i swore i would google it (man- i remember when i was little and we actually had to go to the library so that mama could prove the existance of thomas crapper to me....maybe the nation's obesity epidemic can be blamed on the convenience of googling, rather than having to actually go to the library and wander around the stacks to do research....) when i got home, just so i could prove them wrong.
uh, yeah. my bad.
i suppose santa claus will be next.....
*yes, i have photo evidence of this....and i'm sure this rather stunning photo of myself will be all over the tabloids when i'm rich and famous.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
virgin islands dispatch #3
i'm not sure how i managed it, but somehow i seem to have brought the rain back from st. john to south carolina. funny- i didn't think i had room for a napkin between my two carry-ons, let alone storm clouds.
forgive me for not posting earlier, but when it came down to $8 for either 45 minutes of internet time, or a ride on mr. frett's taxi from the maho bay camps to cruz bay....well, i like walking and all, but i'm pretty sure i would have missed my flight this afternoon if i'd hoofed it from point a to point b.
where did i leave off last? *scrolling through previous post in another window* ah yes, i was heading over to bvi on monday.....
i'd signed up for the virgin gorda/jost van dyke excursion on the stormy petrel, and was mildly disappointed at first to learn that i'd been bumped to an alternate craft, pirate's penny. however, i could not have asked for a better crew. the captain, eric, was wonderful, and since he was raised in the islands, i'm sure our tour of the baths at virgin gorda was far more detailed than what the majority of folks experience. (i just hope i can remember which room was which when i get around to printing my pictures and stuffing them into an album.)
after our tour of the baths, we grabbed sandwiches at a local deli, which were eaten on the fly on our way to sandy spit, which is this little islet off the coast of jost van dyke:
there's some really great snorkeling here, and though i sort of cheated to get over to it (a float was involved), i was able to get pictures of a parrotfish swimming around the small coral reef.
on the way back to st. john, we stopped over at white bay on jost van dyke for an hour. while most folks were interested in having painkillers over at the soggy dollar bar (so named, i'm sure, because to get to the bar, most folks swim from their boats), i spent some time adding to the local economy (i felt the mojito lip balms were a nice substitute for all the mojitos i was denying myself during my vacation, and the long sleeved t-shirt came in handy at the chilly airpost this afternoon), and took a small (barefoot) hike over to the next beach.
i switched gears again yesterday- the reef bay trail was the other big hike on my "to do" list, mostly because i am a sucker for petroglyphs.
plan a: take the nps' guided hike to reef bay, including the boat ride back to cruz bay.
this would have been perfect. unfortunately, during the off season, this guided hike only happens twice a week....and the only day during my stay just happened to be the day i was frolicking in bvi.
plan b: take the goat trail from camp to maho bay, then pick up the maria hope road to centerline road, cross the street to pick up the reef bay trail, and upon reaching reef bay, hike back.
i found the trailhead to the maria hope road without much of a problem. unfortunately, if it's blazed, it's with the same white that naturally occurs on about a third of the trees in the immediate area. having very little desire to be lost in the middle of the woods by myself (i have a healthy sense of adventure, but not that healthy), i backtracked down to north shore road and walked over to the cinnamon bay trail, figuring that after i reached centerline road, i'd simply hike a mile east and pick up the reef bay trail.
i started up the trail without incident, but by the time i reached the spur trail for america hill, i'd started feeling a little lightheaded and headachy....not a good thing when one is planning a serious hike alone. so, deciding (for once!) that discretion was the better part of valor, i took some pictures at america hill, then turned around (just as a thunderstorm rolled in- talk about timing!) and headed back to camp.
i spent a couple of hours resting in my tent-cottage- mostly scribbling postcards and watching the iguanas in the tree outside.
by midafternoon, i was getting antsy again, and headed out towards a couple of previously missed ruins- annaberg school and fredriksdal. the former is very well preserved and the trail is marked with a large nps sign on the side of the road. finding fredriksdal, however, is not so easy. in fact, i initially walked past both the trail to the estate house ruins and the bridge, which is almost directly across the street. on the second pass, though, i noticed that someone had tied one of those pink plastic ribbons around a small tree by the trailhead to the bridge, and the rest was gravy. (not literally, obviously. i mean, what on earth would one do with gravy in the middle of a forest?) the old stone bridge was the highlight of this round of hiking...my only regret is that there wasn't anyone else around to take the obligatory photo of me under the bridge, so i settled for a quick snapshot of the view from just off the main trail.
the brush was pretty thick in this area, and since i was wearing my formerly khaki shorts (as opposed to my favorite green pants, which still hadn't finished drying yet), i'm afraid i wasn't really up for the bushwhacking that would've been necessary to see all fredriksdal had to offer. (basically, i went just past the estate house, then turned around...though i also saw some additional ruins peeking out of the foliage while walking along the road.)
i thought about heading back over to waterlemon bay and trying to find the ruins in that area (all i saw my first time through, on the way to the guardhouse at leinster point, was part of a building and a cattle trough), but changed my mind as i got closer to leinster road and opted for a quick stop at my favorite ruins (francis bay estate house) on the way back to camp, instead.
i left camp with somewhat mixed feelings this morning. i took the gnomes down to little maho beach one last time,
said goodbye to the iguanas (by this point, i could see 6 in the trees outside my tent-cottage),
and packed up my two carry ons, as well as the box i was shipping back home, and headed toward registration to check out and meet mr. frett's taxi one last time.
after spending a couple of hours supporting the local economy in cruz bay (nat'l park visitor's center, friends of the virgin islands park store, as well as a couple of other stores, the names of which i'm too lazy to chase down after a day of travel), i paid $10 for a ticket on the ferry back to charlotte amalie. during the ride, i met a lovely woman who was also heading to the airport to catch the flight to charlotte. i won't divulge her name, but apparently half of the island knows that she and her husband bought their east end house for a phenomenal price. (i'm sure even a "phenomenal price" is still far more than i'll ever be able to afford...at least until i finally sit down to write my best-selling autobiography, of course.)
between good conversation and a decent mango chicken panini at the airport, time there flew by rather quickly, as did the plane ride home, though part of that was due to the nap i managed to catch during the 3 1/2 hour flight.
it'll be odd waking up in the morning to the view of a solid wall, rather than maho bay and my iguana neighbors, as seen through the screened walls of my tent-cottage. on the other hand, i need a few days for these mosquito bites to heal and my skin to rebound from the effects of sunblock stick and salt water.
besides, with petrogyphs and ruins still unseen, i have no doubt i'll find my way back to st. john eventually......
forgive me for not posting earlier, but when it came down to $8 for either 45 minutes of internet time, or a ride on mr. frett's taxi from the maho bay camps to cruz bay....well, i like walking and all, but i'm pretty sure i would have missed my flight this afternoon if i'd hoofed it from point a to point b.
where did i leave off last? *scrolling through previous post in another window* ah yes, i was heading over to bvi on monday.....
i'd signed up for the virgin gorda/jost van dyke excursion on the stormy petrel, and was mildly disappointed at first to learn that i'd been bumped to an alternate craft, pirate's penny. however, i could not have asked for a better crew. the captain, eric, was wonderful, and since he was raised in the islands, i'm sure our tour of the baths at virgin gorda was far more detailed than what the majority of folks experience. (i just hope i can remember which room was which when i get around to printing my pictures and stuffing them into an album.)
after our tour of the baths, we grabbed sandwiches at a local deli, which were eaten on the fly on our way to sandy spit, which is this little islet off the coast of jost van dyke:
there's some really great snorkeling here, and though i sort of cheated to get over to it (a float was involved), i was able to get pictures of a parrotfish swimming around the small coral reef.
on the way back to st. john, we stopped over at white bay on jost van dyke for an hour. while most folks were interested in having painkillers over at the soggy dollar bar (so named, i'm sure, because to get to the bar, most folks swim from their boats), i spent some time adding to the local economy (i felt the mojito lip balms were a nice substitute for all the mojitos i was denying myself during my vacation, and the long sleeved t-shirt came in handy at the chilly airpost this afternoon), and took a small (barefoot) hike over to the next beach.
i switched gears again yesterday- the reef bay trail was the other big hike on my "to do" list, mostly because i am a sucker for petroglyphs.
plan a: take the nps' guided hike to reef bay, including the boat ride back to cruz bay.
this would have been perfect. unfortunately, during the off season, this guided hike only happens twice a week....and the only day during my stay just happened to be the day i was frolicking in bvi.
plan b: take the goat trail from camp to maho bay, then pick up the maria hope road to centerline road, cross the street to pick up the reef bay trail, and upon reaching reef bay, hike back.
i found the trailhead to the maria hope road without much of a problem. unfortunately, if it's blazed, it's with the same white that naturally occurs on about a third of the trees in the immediate area. having very little desire to be lost in the middle of the woods by myself (i have a healthy sense of adventure, but not that healthy), i backtracked down to north shore road and walked over to the cinnamon bay trail, figuring that after i reached centerline road, i'd simply hike a mile east and pick up the reef bay trail.
i started up the trail without incident, but by the time i reached the spur trail for america hill, i'd started feeling a little lightheaded and headachy....not a good thing when one is planning a serious hike alone. so, deciding (for once!) that discretion was the better part of valor, i took some pictures at america hill, then turned around (just as a thunderstorm rolled in- talk about timing!) and headed back to camp.
i spent a couple of hours resting in my tent-cottage- mostly scribbling postcards and watching the iguanas in the tree outside.
by midafternoon, i was getting antsy again, and headed out towards a couple of previously missed ruins- annaberg school and fredriksdal. the former is very well preserved and the trail is marked with a large nps sign on the side of the road. finding fredriksdal, however, is not so easy. in fact, i initially walked past both the trail to the estate house ruins and the bridge, which is almost directly across the street. on the second pass, though, i noticed that someone had tied one of those pink plastic ribbons around a small tree by the trailhead to the bridge, and the rest was gravy. (not literally, obviously. i mean, what on earth would one do with gravy in the middle of a forest?) the old stone bridge was the highlight of this round of hiking...my only regret is that there wasn't anyone else around to take the obligatory photo of me under the bridge, so i settled for a quick snapshot of the view from just off the main trail.
the brush was pretty thick in this area, and since i was wearing my formerly khaki shorts (as opposed to my favorite green pants, which still hadn't finished drying yet), i'm afraid i wasn't really up for the bushwhacking that would've been necessary to see all fredriksdal had to offer. (basically, i went just past the estate house, then turned around...though i also saw some additional ruins peeking out of the foliage while walking along the road.)
i thought about heading back over to waterlemon bay and trying to find the ruins in that area (all i saw my first time through, on the way to the guardhouse at leinster point, was part of a building and a cattle trough), but changed my mind as i got closer to leinster road and opted for a quick stop at my favorite ruins (francis bay estate house) on the way back to camp, instead.
i left camp with somewhat mixed feelings this morning. i took the gnomes down to little maho beach one last time,
said goodbye to the iguanas (by this point, i could see 6 in the trees outside my tent-cottage),
and packed up my two carry ons, as well as the box i was shipping back home, and headed toward registration to check out and meet mr. frett's taxi one last time.
after spending a couple of hours supporting the local economy in cruz bay (nat'l park visitor's center, friends of the virgin islands park store, as well as a couple of other stores, the names of which i'm too lazy to chase down after a day of travel), i paid $10 for a ticket on the ferry back to charlotte amalie. during the ride, i met a lovely woman who was also heading to the airport to catch the flight to charlotte. i won't divulge her name, but apparently half of the island knows that she and her husband bought their east end house for a phenomenal price. (i'm sure even a "phenomenal price" is still far more than i'll ever be able to afford...at least until i finally sit down to write my best-selling autobiography, of course.)
between good conversation and a decent mango chicken panini at the airport, time there flew by rather quickly, as did the plane ride home, though part of that was due to the nap i managed to catch during the 3 1/2 hour flight.
it'll be odd waking up in the morning to the view of a solid wall, rather than maho bay and my iguana neighbors, as seen through the screened walls of my tent-cottage. on the other hand, i need a few days for these mosquito bites to heal and my skin to rebound from the effects of sunblock stick and salt water.
besides, with petrogyphs and ruins still unseen, i have no doubt i'll find my way back to st. john eventually......
Sunday, July 19, 2009
virgin islands dispatch #2
when i woke up this morning, my pants were still wet and my legs were incredibly stiff. the condition of the former was due to being put on over wet bikini bottoms 3 times yesterday, being caught in the rain in the middle of a trail once, and, about half an hour after finishing last night's post (which was 15 minutes after i'd hung them to dry on my clothesline and 5 minutes after i left my tent-cottage in my pajamas to donate some extra soap and shampoo to the maho bay camp "recycling center"), we had what could only be descibed as a "gullywasher". there i was, trapped in white pajamas, waiting for the thunder/lightning/downpour to abate, and my pants, which to this point were actually almost dry, were getting an extra rinse.
the latter condition was due to hiking what i figure to be a hair over 7 miles yesterday. i can't remember if i already listed where i went last night (tonight's internet time is being paid for with my good looks, charm, and right leg), but in the morning, i checked out francis bay (mostly because i was intrigued by the picture in my guidebook of the tile floor at the estate house ruins),
(this picture's mine- i tried to pick out the one out of the dozen or so that showed both the architecture and the tile)
the ruins at the annaberg sugar mill, and hiked over to waterlemon bay. i would've hiked the johnny hart (i hope that's right- the book is back at my tent-cottage) trail, but wound up turning around at the guardhouse ruins, since my camera battery was low and i tend to get a little....photohappy. my knees voiced some very definite opinions during the climb back up the maho bay camp driveway, but apparently this is not abnormal when one reaches old age.
lunch was a day-old steak sandwich at big maho bay (the camp where i'm staying is at little maho bay, which gave me a chance to try out the 1/4 mile "goat trail".)
i got bored after about 20 minutes on the beach, so i caught mr. frett's taxi over to cruz bay, where i finally got my national park passport stamped. while there, i asked if there were any local trails, and about half an hour later, i was in the middle of the lind point trail when it started raining. (thankfully, whenever i pack my camera, i also pack a baggie, just in case.) as i'm sure i've already mentioned, the rain continued (intermittently) for the rest of the day.
as for the stiff legs (you thought i was going to leave you hanging, didn;t you?), i did what any normal, rational person would do....i decided to hike some more.
with rain in the forecast again today, i inquired at the activities desk as to whether it would be better to hike over to trunk bay (where the national park service maintains an underwater snorkeling trail), or to head south, to the reef bay trail, which features a waterfall and some petroglyphs (the two fastest ways to sell me on a hike). the girl i asked didn't really have a set opinion, so i figured i'd just start walking and see where i wound up.
as it happened, i missed the trail that would have led me up the mountain to the reef bay trail, so i headed toward trunk bay. along the way, i stopped at cinnamon bay to check out the ruins of another sugar mill,
as well as the danish graveyard, and then continued westward along the highway. there were a couple of stunning views from the road, and i managed to take a few decent pictures, along with several off-center ones of myself. (as you might imagine, though i looked fine when i set out on today's hike, but the second mile, i looked like a sweaty, drowned rat.*)
i wound up passing trunk bay, after realizing it really wasn't that much farther to peace hill, where there's a semi-restored windmill and some really great views. (the christ of the caribbean used to be here, as well, but was taken out by a hurricane in the 90's. according to the website i just linked to, there's a plaque there, but somehow, i missed it. who knows? i may have been sitting on it while taking a spiffy photo (one spiffy one out of 7 attempts, mind you) with a wooden totem sort of thing that was nestled in the ruins.
on the way back, i attempted a snorkel at trunk bay (let's just say i made it to the sign that tells you where the trail is), where i also managed to eat most of my chicken salad wrap, before a rather aggressive bird swooped in from behind (while the wrap was in my hands, no less!) and helped itself to my tomato and lettuce.
i also stopped by cinnamon bay, and after a quick walk to buy a few postcards on the beach, i headed across the street to the cinnamon bay trail, which is fairly steep and a little over a mile long. (thankfully, i did it the right way: steep climb first, and then steep descent last.) there was a spur trail to some ruins that i meant to take, but it wasn't clearly marked, and i didn't want to wind up lost in the woods by myself.
all in all, it was a good day- 8.4 (or so) miles under my belt, and neither of my two new blisters popped. (yay!) tomorrow's adventure: getting up early to head to the baths at virgin gorda and jost van dyke. (it's my one splurge for the trip.)
oh- and i almost forgot to tell, you- i finally saw an iguana! she (i named her ludwanna) was hanging out in a tree outside my tent-cottage. i happened to look up while figuring out today's milage, and there she was. she wandered into deeper foliage about ten minutes later, but my little roommate, anatoly the anole, was hanging around my front door when i last left my tent-cottage. :)
*a slight exaggeration, but only a slight one, i assure you
the latter condition was due to hiking what i figure to be a hair over 7 miles yesterday. i can't remember if i already listed where i went last night (tonight's internet time is being paid for with my good looks, charm, and right leg), but in the morning, i checked out francis bay (mostly because i was intrigued by the picture in my guidebook of the tile floor at the estate house ruins),
(this picture's mine- i tried to pick out the one out of the dozen or so that showed both the architecture and the tile)
the ruins at the annaberg sugar mill, and hiked over to waterlemon bay. i would've hiked the johnny hart (i hope that's right- the book is back at my tent-cottage) trail, but wound up turning around at the guardhouse ruins, since my camera battery was low and i tend to get a little....photohappy. my knees voiced some very definite opinions during the climb back up the maho bay camp driveway, but apparently this is not abnormal when one reaches old age.
lunch was a day-old steak sandwich at big maho bay (the camp where i'm staying is at little maho bay, which gave me a chance to try out the 1/4 mile "goat trail".)
i got bored after about 20 minutes on the beach, so i caught mr. frett's taxi over to cruz bay, where i finally got my national park passport stamped. while there, i asked if there were any local trails, and about half an hour later, i was in the middle of the lind point trail when it started raining. (thankfully, whenever i pack my camera, i also pack a baggie, just in case.) as i'm sure i've already mentioned, the rain continued (intermittently) for the rest of the day.
as for the stiff legs (you thought i was going to leave you hanging, didn;t you?), i did what any normal, rational person would do....i decided to hike some more.
with rain in the forecast again today, i inquired at the activities desk as to whether it would be better to hike over to trunk bay (where the national park service maintains an underwater snorkeling trail), or to head south, to the reef bay trail, which features a waterfall and some petroglyphs (the two fastest ways to sell me on a hike). the girl i asked didn't really have a set opinion, so i figured i'd just start walking and see where i wound up.
as it happened, i missed the trail that would have led me up the mountain to the reef bay trail, so i headed toward trunk bay. along the way, i stopped at cinnamon bay to check out the ruins of another sugar mill,
as well as the danish graveyard, and then continued westward along the highway. there were a couple of stunning views from the road, and i managed to take a few decent pictures, along with several off-center ones of myself. (as you might imagine, though i looked fine when i set out on today's hike, but the second mile, i looked like a sweaty, drowned rat.*)
i wound up passing trunk bay, after realizing it really wasn't that much farther to peace hill, where there's a semi-restored windmill and some really great views. (the christ of the caribbean used to be here, as well, but was taken out by a hurricane in the 90's. according to the website i just linked to, there's a plaque there, but somehow, i missed it. who knows? i may have been sitting on it while taking a spiffy photo (one spiffy one out of 7 attempts, mind you) with a wooden totem sort of thing that was nestled in the ruins.
on the way back, i attempted a snorkel at trunk bay (let's just say i made it to the sign that tells you where the trail is), where i also managed to eat most of my chicken salad wrap, before a rather aggressive bird swooped in from behind (while the wrap was in my hands, no less!) and helped itself to my tomato and lettuce.
i also stopped by cinnamon bay, and after a quick walk to buy a few postcards on the beach, i headed across the street to the cinnamon bay trail, which is fairly steep and a little over a mile long. (thankfully, i did it the right way: steep climb first, and then steep descent last.) there was a spur trail to some ruins that i meant to take, but it wasn't clearly marked, and i didn't want to wind up lost in the woods by myself.
all in all, it was a good day- 8.4 (or so) miles under my belt, and neither of my two new blisters popped. (yay!) tomorrow's adventure: getting up early to head to the baths at virgin gorda and jost van dyke. (it's my one splurge for the trip.)
oh- and i almost forgot to tell, you- i finally saw an iguana! she (i named her ludwanna) was hanging out in a tree outside my tent-cottage. i happened to look up while figuring out today's milage, and there she was. she wandered into deeper foliage about ten minutes later, but my little roommate, anatoly the anole, was hanging around my front door when i last left my tent-cottage. :)
*a slight exaggeration, but only a slight one, i assure you
Saturday, July 18, 2009
virgin islands dispatch
my butt is wet....and it's about the fifth time today.
(i know how deeply you care about these things, so i thought i'd share.)
forgive me for not getting around to finishing the final post detailing the saga of my car. it's about half written, but since i'm paying an arm, a leg, and part of my soul for internet time, let me give you the brief version: do not ever, ever, ever take your chariot to a AAA car care center.
anyway, i'm writing this while sitting on my wet butt in the internet kiosk at the maho bay camp on st. john, in the u.s. virgin islands. it's pitch black at 7:30 pm, which takes a little getting used to, but on the other hand, i have no idea what time sunrise actually is, but i was up, moving, and heading down to the beach to snorkel around 6:30 this morning. (the gasp you just heard was from my dad, who clearly remembers calling and blasting my out of bed at 10:00 am during the summer when i was in high school.)
admittedly, i am not a strong swimmer, and i have a fear of drowning (i am not too comfortable if i can't touch the ground), but i am pleased to report that i wound up swimming over a little reef at maho point....i believe the book said the water was 10' deep there, but can't really find the figure at the moment and don't really have time to search for it (i know i'm up to an arm and half a leg for the internet time, by this point.)
anyway, i also managed to squeeze in a couple of hikes (including one in the rain....good thing i had a baggie for my camera and phone), and a little more snorkeling.
ack- one minute left, i've been informed. time to go dry out my pants and nurse a ginormous blister that popped while hiking in the rain.....but hey- at least i have a popped blister and wet butt in the virgin islands, and not back home. :)
(i know how deeply you care about these things, so i thought i'd share.)
forgive me for not getting around to finishing the final post detailing the saga of my car. it's about half written, but since i'm paying an arm, a leg, and part of my soul for internet time, let me give you the brief version: do not ever, ever, ever take your chariot to a AAA car care center.
anyway, i'm writing this while sitting on my wet butt in the internet kiosk at the maho bay camp on st. john, in the u.s. virgin islands. it's pitch black at 7:30 pm, which takes a little getting used to, but on the other hand, i have no idea what time sunrise actually is, but i was up, moving, and heading down to the beach to snorkel around 6:30 this morning. (the gasp you just heard was from my dad, who clearly remembers calling and blasting my out of bed at 10:00 am during the summer when i was in high school.)
admittedly, i am not a strong swimmer, and i have a fear of drowning (i am not too comfortable if i can't touch the ground), but i am pleased to report that i wound up swimming over a little reef at maho point....i believe the book said the water was 10' deep there, but can't really find the figure at the moment and don't really have time to search for it (i know i'm up to an arm and half a leg for the internet time, by this point.)
anyway, i also managed to squeeze in a couple of hikes (including one in the rain....good thing i had a baggie for my camera and phone), and a little more snorkeling.
ack- one minute left, i've been informed. time to go dry out my pants and nurse a ginormous blister that popped while hiking in the rain.....but hey- at least i have a popped blister and wet butt in the virgin islands, and not back home. :)
Friday, June 19, 2009
a tale of two three transmissions
it was the best of times, it was the worst of times....
i believe i last left off a week and a half ago, after my 3 hour commute home, which involved several phone calls, a blinking battery bar on my cell phone, and a tow truck with two guys in it...one of whom declined my offer to answer his phone (as it rang for about the twelfth time) and tell his wife "we'll be done in about ten more minutes".
oh, and my car tried to pick up a smoking habit which, as it turns out, i incorrectly credited to my clutch.
a disclaimer before i continue:
terminology in this post may be a little off at times...especially the technical stuff. while i am admittedly a little bit of a tomboy, my knowledge of car maintenance is limited to knowing where the gas goes, how to check the oil, and firsthand knowledge of what might be wrong if the car won't start. (in my case, it involved a loose wire attached to the battery. however, i didn't figure that out until after employing both a screwdriver and a pair of pliers to scrape the contacts. oh- and i think i might've needed to smack something in that general area with the handle of the screwdriver, too.)
anyway, as i write this, my chariot is still in pieces at the repair shop. yes, still.
monday the 8th: car is jiggled off the tow truck and into the parking lot. (scroll down to the last post for details)
tuesday the 9th: my fears are confirmed. the clutch is toast. replacing it will cost about $1585. while the car is torn apart like a feather pillow left unattended with a new puppy, they'll check my transmission, too.
tuesday the 19th, phone call #2: that smoke and burning smell? that wasn't the clutch. it was the transmission. we're now looking at over $2500 to fix my 7 1/2 year old car. i believe an expletive came out of my mouth at roughly this point, though it was not the big one. (i am still quite proud of my restraint.) i tell them i need to gather my thoughts and call them back later.
tuesday evening: up until after midnight, looking at new cars. after drooling for way too long over a highly impractical car out of my price rance (mazda rx-8), settle on a toyota corolla with the sports package. oh- and since they don't make cars without power windows/door locks any more decide i'll put up with those options and console myself by getting the moonroof i've always wanted.
wednesday the 10th: after spending a couple of midday hours debating whether to buy a new car, or borrow my dad's miata, settle on fixing my chariot. after all, it's only got 146,000 miles on it, and at 7 1/2 years, it's too young to die. besides, i can't afford the payments on anything but a low-end kia or a beat up el camino...and if i'm going to have a car for ten years, it really should be something i can stand.
i'm told the repairs (clutch, transmission, and timing belt*), which now total about $3250, should be done by monday afternoon at the latest.
friday the 12th: learn i can borrow my "adoptive" parents' spare car next week, while they're out of town. debate whether or not to take them up on their offer, since i'd only need the car for a day.
sunday the 14th (technically, monday the 15th): after getting off work at midnight, pick up SO and retrieve borrowed wheels.
monday the 15th: no call telling me my car is done.
tueday the 16th: call to check on car. am told that replacement transmission #1 went in ok...until the mechanic tried to hook up the cv axle. apparently, there wasn't a place to put it. (since i have no clue what a cv axle is, the mental picture that forms is from the old oregon trail computer game- the part where your axle breaks and one screen later, you learn you have dysentary.) am told transmission #2 should be in wednesday and my car should be done on thursday.
thursday the 18th: call to check on car. am told the mechanic has put in the transmission and is about to "burn" the clutch. am a little perplexed. after all, that sounds a lot like what made my car's willingness to shift gears cease in the first place.
today: as i'm picking up the home phone to call and check on my car, i hear my cell phone beep its "hey- you just missed a call" beep. when i call back, the apologies are profuse. am told there's news, but it's not as good as one might hope.
"ok- what's going to go "sproing" next?"
am relieved to learn that there aren't any new surprises. however, car still is not inclined to move. it seems transmission #2 went in, the cv axle went on, the clutch was blown (which sounds better than the "burn" i'd remembered, but not by much), and...... the car won't go into gear. now, as i'd established with xavier in my last post, when one has a manual transmission, being unable to get into gear is kind of problematic.
transmission #3 should be in tomorrow, and hopefully, i will be out of the borrowed suv and back into my little green zx2 by 4pm. in the event that #3 is also a dud, transmission #4 is also en route from a different supplier. with any luck, i will not need it.
i was told today that "this thing happens every now and again". i pointed out that i seem to have the "again" part covered. (apparently, my car is now sitting in its bay, with the three transmissions (the original, plus the two attempted replacements) laying near it, like discarded bones after a barbecue.)
i think the poor guy figured i'd bite his head off for having my car for so long. were i more like my parents, he probably would have a new anal orifice. however, since i'm not having to walk or blow money i don't have on a rental car, i'm still able to laugh about it.....besides, as i told him, "this is simply providing more material for a new post on my blog."
*because, i have recently learned, timing belts are supposed to pack it in waaaaay before 146,000 miles.
i believe i last left off a week and a half ago, after my 3 hour commute home, which involved several phone calls, a blinking battery bar on my cell phone, and a tow truck with two guys in it...one of whom declined my offer to answer his phone (as it rang for about the twelfth time) and tell his wife "we'll be done in about ten more minutes".
oh, and my car tried to pick up a smoking habit which, as it turns out, i incorrectly credited to my clutch.
a disclaimer before i continue:
terminology in this post may be a little off at times...especially the technical stuff. while i am admittedly a little bit of a tomboy, my knowledge of car maintenance is limited to knowing where the gas goes, how to check the oil, and firsthand knowledge of what might be wrong if the car won't start. (in my case, it involved a loose wire attached to the battery. however, i didn't figure that out until after employing both a screwdriver and a pair of pliers to scrape the contacts. oh- and i think i might've needed to smack something in that general area with the handle of the screwdriver, too.)
anyway, as i write this, my chariot is still in pieces at the repair shop. yes, still.
monday the 8th: car is jiggled off the tow truck and into the parking lot. (scroll down to the last post for details)
tuesday the 9th: my fears are confirmed. the clutch is toast. replacing it will cost about $1585. while the car is torn apart like a feather pillow left unattended with a new puppy, they'll check my transmission, too.
tuesday the 19th, phone call #2: that smoke and burning smell? that wasn't the clutch. it was the transmission. we're now looking at over $2500 to fix my 7 1/2 year old car. i believe an expletive came out of my mouth at roughly this point, though it was not the big one. (i am still quite proud of my restraint.) i tell them i need to gather my thoughts and call them back later.
tuesday evening: up until after midnight, looking at new cars. after drooling for way too long over a highly impractical car out of my price rance (mazda rx-8), settle on a toyota corolla with the sports package. oh- and since they don't make cars without power windows/door locks any more decide i'll put up with those options and console myself by getting the moonroof i've always wanted.
wednesday the 10th: after spending a couple of midday hours debating whether to buy a new car, or borrow my dad's miata, settle on fixing my chariot. after all, it's only got 146,000 miles on it, and at 7 1/2 years, it's too young to die. besides, i can't afford the payments on anything but a low-end kia or a beat up el camino...and if i'm going to have a car for ten years, it really should be something i can stand.
i'm told the repairs (clutch, transmission, and timing belt*), which now total about $3250, should be done by monday afternoon at the latest.
friday the 12th: learn i can borrow my "adoptive" parents' spare car next week, while they're out of town. debate whether or not to take them up on their offer, since i'd only need the car for a day.
sunday the 14th (technically, monday the 15th): after getting off work at midnight, pick up SO and retrieve borrowed wheels.
monday the 15th: no call telling me my car is done.
tueday the 16th: call to check on car. am told that replacement transmission #1 went in ok...until the mechanic tried to hook up the cv axle. apparently, there wasn't a place to put it. (since i have no clue what a cv axle is, the mental picture that forms is from the old oregon trail computer game- the part where your axle breaks and one screen later, you learn you have dysentary.) am told transmission #2 should be in wednesday and my car should be done on thursday.
thursday the 18th: call to check on car. am told the mechanic has put in the transmission and is about to "burn" the clutch. am a little perplexed. after all, that sounds a lot like what made my car's willingness to shift gears cease in the first place.
today: as i'm picking up the home phone to call and check on my car, i hear my cell phone beep its "hey- you just missed a call" beep. when i call back, the apologies are profuse. am told there's news, but it's not as good as one might hope.
"ok- what's going to go "sproing" next?"
am relieved to learn that there aren't any new surprises. however, car still is not inclined to move. it seems transmission #2 went in, the cv axle went on, the clutch was blown (which sounds better than the "burn" i'd remembered, but not by much), and...... the car won't go into gear. now, as i'd established with xavier in my last post, when one has a manual transmission, being unable to get into gear is kind of problematic.
transmission #3 should be in tomorrow, and hopefully, i will be out of the borrowed suv and back into my little green zx2 by 4pm. in the event that #3 is also a dud, transmission #4 is also en route from a different supplier. with any luck, i will not need it.
i was told today that "this thing happens every now and again". i pointed out that i seem to have the "again" part covered. (apparently, my car is now sitting in its bay, with the three transmissions (the original, plus the two attempted replacements) laying near it, like discarded bones after a barbecue.)
i think the poor guy figured i'd bite his head off for having my car for so long. were i more like my parents, he probably would have a new anal orifice. however, since i'm not having to walk or blow money i don't have on a rental car, i'm still able to laugh about it.....besides, as i told him, "this is simply providing more material for a new post on my blog."
*because, i have recently learned, timing belts are supposed to pack it in waaaaay before 146,000 miles.
Monday, June 08, 2009
what's that smell?
let me start by warning you that this will be the second driving related post in a row on my blog. i promise, however, that this isn't another "now i understand why the south carolina DMV doesn't make transplants take an exam- no matter where we're from, we probably drive better than the natives" post.
however, though i'm tired and had a 3 hour commute home, if i don't pound this out now, the finer details may be lost, and it won't be nearly so amusing.
5:15 pm: leave work. notice cell phone is down to one bar of battery life. guess i'll have to charge it when i get home.
5:25 pm: while coasting down a hill, downshift.
5:25:15pm: make that "try to downshift" i've gone from 5th to 4th to...why is 3rd not happening? wind up in 2nd, then settle back into 4th.
5:25:45 pm: pull up to fairly minor intersection. as usual, pop car into neutral while i wait for the light to turn.
5:27 pm: light's green, car in front of me is moving, and i can't get into first....or second. (yes, daddy, sometimes i start in second.) quickly learn that, while car now seems willing to try third, trying to start moving in third gear does not make the car happy. in fact, the little red "warning" icons on the dash light up rather quickly as the car expresses its indignation by stopping. in the middle of the intersection. with an 18-wheeler two cars back, probably muttering under his breath about female drivers.
5:27:20 pm: restart car and coast across intersection and into shoulder. am thankful i didn't wind up "fred flintstoning" it, especially since i'm in flip flops on a road that seems to be overdue for repaving.
5:28 pm: mama, whom i tried to call about 10 minutes ago, calls back.
"hi, mama. uhm, i think the smoke i'm seeing is from my clutch and i have only a bar left on my battery and i need to call AAA. can i call you back?"
5:30-5:35 pm: on the phone with "xavier" at AAA. after rattling off the basic information and assuring him i am in a safe place, i relate the above to him, capping it off with "can you send a tow truck?"
from his end, there's mostly the sound of typing. it really would have been better if he'd just taken down what i'd said, told me when to expect the truck, and we'd hung up (preferably before my phone died.). however, xavier wants more information:
"now, ma'am, is your car a manual or an automatic transmission?"
you're kidding, right? did i not mention the clutch? all of the gears i'd attempted? clearly things are not going to work out with xavier. i prefer men who actually listen to what i have to say once in a while.
"ma'am, what do you think the problem is?"
too easy. i skip the obvious answer (he needs to take a q-tip to his ears, and i don't mean adding a tribe called quest to his ipod, and mention i think it might have something to do with the clutch.
"ma'am, can you start the car?"
yes, but given that it was just smoking a couple of minutes ago and i'm pretty sure that burning smell isn't just me roasting in the 85 degree heat, i'm not exactly inclined to crank it up again, besides, without a clutch, i'm not going far.
5:37 pm: xavier, either satisfied with my answers, or officially giving up on me, tells me to expect a tow truck in approximately 70 minutes, then hangs up.
5:40 pm: call my dad. very briefly inquire about the life expectancy of a clutch (my last car, the sundance, was still on its original clutch until just past 200,000 miles. apparently, this is not normal.), as well as the price of a replacement (somewhere between what i have in the bank and what would necessitate sprouting bigger boobs and picking up an evening gig that may involve mastering the art of walking in 6" lucite stiletto heels).
5:42-7:20 pm: while waiting for a tow truck:
~read a full issue of "national geographic adventure" magazine. learn about steve fosset's last flight, natural bridges i didn't know existed in arizona and kentucky, and pick out several adventurous future vacation destinations.
~am offered help 4 or 5 times- including once by a guy on a bike (and by "bike", i do not mean "motorcycle" or even "moped". i'm guessing this chivalrous soul would have let me ride on his handlebars, though) who called me "boo".
~field several calls- all of which i keep to under 30 seconds, explaining that now my last little battery bar is blinking and making an unsettling "ping"ing noise.
~swat (unsuccessfully, judging from my itchy ankle) at a mosquito that has decided to keep me company until the tow truck arrives.
7:10 pm: on the other side of the road, a maroon ford explorer has come to rest in the grassy shoulder. i mutter that i have dibs on the first tow truck, and about the time i finish the sentence, the driver tries to restart the car. the sound is not unlike that of evenrude in "the rescuers". about a minute later, my competition for a tow is gone.
7:20 pm: tow truck arrives. not one, but two guys hop out. i suppose this is good. axe murderers usually work alone, right?
7:25 pm: car is on the truck, and we're back on the road. tow truck guys ask if i'm ok. i tell them i'm fine....as long as i don't raise my arms and knock them out, as two hours of sweat is not exactly a smell one would want to bottle up.
7:30 pm: head out on the highway...lookin for adventure..... oh, sorry. for some reason, when i hit an on-ramp, that chunk of "born to be wild" generally winds up in my head.
7:35- 7:45 pm: small talk with tow truck guys....mostly with the driver, while the passenger is counseling his daughter, via cell phone, on the importance of not leaving her nintendo DS and DS games where her sister can get to them. it seems i'm not the only one who learns things the hard way.
7:50 pm: subject of my age comes up. have to haul out driver's license. driver nearly runs off the road reading it.
7:52 pm: driver's cell rings for fifth time. he has been ignoring it all this time. i ask if it's a girl calling. inquire as to whether i should moan in the background while he answers. he nearly runs off the clemson road bridge. after regaining control, driver calls his dispatcher and asks her to call his house and let them know he's busy.
reply from dispatcher: "how busy are you?"
snickers from myself and passenger. solemnly promise that if he answers the phone, i will not make any noise. (this, of course, is as the phone is ringing for the eighth time.) unfortunately, snickering while promising to be quiet ruins the effect.
7:55 pm: driver almost blows a turn on the way to AAA. i tell him that if he winds up with extra mileage, it'd better not be deducted from my AAA account. this causes him to blow another turn.
7:57-8:10pm: car is unloaded. since apparently my car is stuck in gear (though my gearshift felt to me like it was in neutral), the unloading involves half a can of pam for cars, as well as a series of manouvers performed by the movable bed of the tow truck that cannot be reenacted without a disclaimer and at least an "R" rating.
8:10-8:15pm: call for rescue, dig out spare key to throw into AAA drop box, and head to front curb to wait for my ride.
8:30pm: arrive home....over three hours after leaving work. guess i won't be getting anything extra done tonight. comtemplate spending time practicing how to walk in heels (sadly, i do not own any of the lucite variety). elect to finally post something new to my blog instead.
however, though i'm tired and had a 3 hour commute home, if i don't pound this out now, the finer details may be lost, and it won't be nearly so amusing.
5:15 pm: leave work. notice cell phone is down to one bar of battery life. guess i'll have to charge it when i get home.
5:25 pm: while coasting down a hill, downshift.
5:25:15pm: make that "try to downshift" i've gone from 5th to 4th to...why is 3rd not happening? wind up in 2nd, then settle back into 4th.
5:25:45 pm: pull up to fairly minor intersection. as usual, pop car into neutral while i wait for the light to turn.
5:27 pm: light's green, car in front of me is moving, and i can't get into first....or second. (yes, daddy, sometimes i start in second.) quickly learn that, while car now seems willing to try third, trying to start moving in third gear does not make the car happy. in fact, the little red "warning" icons on the dash light up rather quickly as the car expresses its indignation by stopping. in the middle of the intersection. with an 18-wheeler two cars back, probably muttering under his breath about female drivers.
5:27:20 pm: restart car and coast across intersection and into shoulder. am thankful i didn't wind up "fred flintstoning" it, especially since i'm in flip flops on a road that seems to be overdue for repaving.
5:28 pm: mama, whom i tried to call about 10 minutes ago, calls back.
"hi, mama. uhm, i think the smoke i'm seeing is from my clutch and i have only a bar left on my battery and i need to call AAA. can i call you back?"
5:30-5:35 pm: on the phone with "xavier" at AAA. after rattling off the basic information and assuring him i am in a safe place, i relate the above to him, capping it off with "can you send a tow truck?"
from his end, there's mostly the sound of typing. it really would have been better if he'd just taken down what i'd said, told me when to expect the truck, and we'd hung up (preferably before my phone died.). however, xavier wants more information:
"now, ma'am, is your car a manual or an automatic transmission?"
you're kidding, right? did i not mention the clutch? all of the gears i'd attempted? clearly things are not going to work out with xavier. i prefer men who actually listen to what i have to say once in a while.
"ma'am, what do you think the problem is?"
too easy. i skip the obvious answer (he needs to take a q-tip to his ears, and i don't mean adding a tribe called quest to his ipod, and mention i think it might have something to do with the clutch.
"ma'am, can you start the car?"
yes, but given that it was just smoking a couple of minutes ago and i'm pretty sure that burning smell isn't just me roasting in the 85 degree heat, i'm not exactly inclined to crank it up again, besides, without a clutch, i'm not going far.
5:37 pm: xavier, either satisfied with my answers, or officially giving up on me, tells me to expect a tow truck in approximately 70 minutes, then hangs up.
5:40 pm: call my dad. very briefly inquire about the life expectancy of a clutch (my last car, the sundance, was still on its original clutch until just past 200,000 miles. apparently, this is not normal.), as well as the price of a replacement (somewhere between what i have in the bank and what would necessitate sprouting bigger boobs and picking up an evening gig that may involve mastering the art of walking in 6" lucite stiletto heels).
5:42-7:20 pm: while waiting for a tow truck:
~read a full issue of "national geographic adventure" magazine. learn about steve fosset's last flight, natural bridges i didn't know existed in arizona and kentucky, and pick out several adventurous future vacation destinations.
~am offered help 4 or 5 times- including once by a guy on a bike (and by "bike", i do not mean "motorcycle" or even "moped". i'm guessing this chivalrous soul would have let me ride on his handlebars, though) who called me "boo".
~field several calls- all of which i keep to under 30 seconds, explaining that now my last little battery bar is blinking and making an unsettling "ping"ing noise.
~swat (unsuccessfully, judging from my itchy ankle) at a mosquito that has decided to keep me company until the tow truck arrives.
7:10 pm: on the other side of the road, a maroon ford explorer has come to rest in the grassy shoulder. i mutter that i have dibs on the first tow truck, and about the time i finish the sentence, the driver tries to restart the car. the sound is not unlike that of evenrude in "the rescuers". about a minute later, my competition for a tow is gone.
7:20 pm: tow truck arrives. not one, but two guys hop out. i suppose this is good. axe murderers usually work alone, right?
7:25 pm: car is on the truck, and we're back on the road. tow truck guys ask if i'm ok. i tell them i'm fine....as long as i don't raise my arms and knock them out, as two hours of sweat is not exactly a smell one would want to bottle up.
7:30 pm: head out on the highway...lookin for adventure..... oh, sorry. for some reason, when i hit an on-ramp, that chunk of "born to be wild" generally winds up in my head.
7:35- 7:45 pm: small talk with tow truck guys....mostly with the driver, while the passenger is counseling his daughter, via cell phone, on the importance of not leaving her nintendo DS and DS games where her sister can get to them. it seems i'm not the only one who learns things the hard way.
7:50 pm: subject of my age comes up. have to haul out driver's license. driver nearly runs off the road reading it.
7:52 pm: driver's cell rings for fifth time. he has been ignoring it all this time. i ask if it's a girl calling. inquire as to whether i should moan in the background while he answers. he nearly runs off the clemson road bridge. after regaining control, driver calls his dispatcher and asks her to call his house and let them know he's busy.
reply from dispatcher: "how busy are you?"
snickers from myself and passenger. solemnly promise that if he answers the phone, i will not make any noise. (this, of course, is as the phone is ringing for the eighth time.) unfortunately, snickering while promising to be quiet ruins the effect.
7:55 pm: driver almost blows a turn on the way to AAA. i tell him that if he winds up with extra mileage, it'd better not be deducted from my AAA account. this causes him to blow another turn.
7:57-8:10pm: car is unloaded. since apparently my car is stuck in gear (though my gearshift felt to me like it was in neutral), the unloading involves half a can of pam for cars, as well as a series of manouvers performed by the movable bed of the tow truck that cannot be reenacted without a disclaimer and at least an "R" rating.
8:10-8:15pm: call for rescue, dig out spare key to throw into AAA drop box, and head to front curb to wait for my ride.
8:30pm: arrive home....over three hours after leaving work. guess i won't be getting anything extra done tonight. comtemplate spending time practicing how to walk in heels (sadly, i do not own any of the lucite variety). elect to finally post something new to my blog instead.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
a quick thought.....
...because i've booked my birthday trip and am now working my butt off to pay for it.
i noticed not once, but twice, yesterday that some folks seem lost on the whole purpose of an on-ramp. perhaps i'm the one who's mistaken, but i was under the impression that one should use the on-ramp as an opportunity to accelerate for smoother merging into highway traffic. after the second time i found myself contemplating getting out of the car and offering to give the driver in front of me a push, i really began to wonder if i was the one with it backwards...
i noticed not once, but twice, yesterday that some folks seem lost on the whole purpose of an on-ramp. perhaps i'm the one who's mistaken, but i was under the impression that one should use the on-ramp as an opportunity to accelerate for smoother merging into highway traffic. after the second time i found myself contemplating getting out of the car and offering to give the driver in front of me a push, i really began to wonder if i was the one with it backwards...
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