Driving, ever driving

Might as well bring you up to date on some recent bumperstickers and license plates. It's harmless fun that many of you can relate to.

I saw a license plate a month or so ago that said "LV DR PHL". Yes, this is a true story. This was right after "Bob and Tom" had just trashed him for repeatedly pushing his book and "tape" to anyone with ears. To make matters worse, it was a woman of Boomer age driving a PT Cruiser. I can almost smell the "good time oldies" music. And the good livin'.

I can't think of the obnoxious one I just saw. But, in general, I see a lot of HUGE SUVs, usually the American "Excusion" variety, with Bush stickers on them. It's funny how you can instantly hate someone . . . without ever meeting them!

I'm usually very considerate in traffic, with two exceptions: 1. I say "no way!" to those obnoxious drivers who KNOW the lane is ending and, instead of getting in the long line with everyone, so everyone can proceed at a slow but steady pace, they race up to where the lane ends, forcing the line of traffic to stop. start. stop. start. Despite my growls of "DON'T DO IT" some idiot ALWAYS lets these people in! Who are those people? 2. Whenever I am in a position to be nice to huge SUV drivers, especially those with Bush stickers, I'm not.

I fantasize about commuter trains.

Keeping Secrets

I can keep your secrets, but I'm lousy at keeping my own. I'm pregnant!

I told a few people yesterday, but I told my boss today. I went into his office and said "I have something to tell you. Let's see if you can guess what it is." Then I placed a packet of saltines on his desk. Three whole seconds later, the father of three's eyes grew wide. "You're pregnant?" Temporary distress gave way to "congrats" when I assured him that I planned to keep working. Of course I'm going to keep working. What else do I have to do?

So for those of you who don't know, I'm 5-6 weeks pregnant. My first OB exam and ultrasound is mid-May.

Kevin and I are quite surprised--it's been 5 years since I was pregnant with Stevie and we haven't done anything to prevent a 2nd pregnancy . . . and it's been FIVE YEARS! I was beginning to think I was done. And I'm a little stressed now--it's still early in the game, and I'm 35, which means a higher risk. But I don't want to wait until some mostly arbitrary date comes and goes to share the news. I'm pregnant now, and I'm assuming the best.

Depending on how it goes at Anthony's match meeting today, we may be parents of three by the end of the year!

More commuting fun

I have a pretty healthy commute everyday. It's the price I pay for wanting to live without a bunch of jackasses around.

This morning, I started a little earlier. I approached the final bottleneck to the office just 10 minutes earlier than normal this week, and zipped right through! It's telling that traffic is so unlike nature. In nature, when paths are wide, everything slows. Very sleepy rivers. Then, when squeezed by canyon walls, the water rushes through, churling and chuggling along at exhilarating speeds. I think we all know how this plays out in traffic. Perhaps that is why, as I sit there, I often think "is this REALLY what I want to do with my life?" and then I think of Moab. Or the AT. Or Hot Waffles. And then I think, I don't make this kind of money in those places, and those places require a bit of money to really do it up right. So off I go. At an exhilarating 4 mph.

Anyway, as I was zipping along, I drove behind a big white Yukon XL, surely one of the most obnoxious SUVs. This one contained those little sports-ball emblems on its Great Plains-like back window. "Tyler" played basketball for my alma mater. His number is 30. "Tabatha" played basketball AND softball (a double threat!). Her numbers were 35 and 5, respectively. "Ugh" I groaned, as I thought of yesterday's blog and how I would raise my kid to think those things were unnecessary--don't I express my love to him everyday? Must I announce my love for his sports feats only on my car for an uncaring world? And I showed that love from the start, by NOT naming him "Tyler" or "Tabatha." "Tyler and Tabatha"--awwwwwwwww. How darling! I bet they have a whole family of "T" names. (I swore to never do that. But I'm not going to get the chance to name any new kids anyway.)

I rolled my eyes and, on their way down, they spotted the Yukon XLs personalized license plate: "TY N TAB"

It's a good thing I hadn't had breakfast at that point. Aren't those kids embarrassed to enter that vehicle? Or are they so full of their athletic prowess that they feel entitled to such platitudinous idolatry? Sometimes parents just take it too far. And I'm guessing embarrassed.

I Refuse to Live in Fear!

This morning I was stuck behind a white minivan with a personalized license plate. It read "I'm sober".

That, combined with the "Heaven--don't miss it for the world" bumpersticker I saw last week, plus the dozens of "W" stickers and "Support our troop" demands (sorry, mom) and "My son is in the air force" and "my kid is a honor student" and Christian fish emblems and all the other claptrap I see everyday as I inch my way down the Parkway, at an average of 4 mph, on my way into work . . . well, it makes me wish I could ride a bike to work. In a different country. Or at least a more liberal part of town. Or grow exotic, invasive vegetables for the exclusive clientele of high-end restaurants.

Killing Time

That's right! I have a few minutes to kill before Kevin and I head to the bank to close on our house. OUR house. Woo-hoo!

It's going to clean out our bubble-market-like bank account, but it means that we are free from any financial link to my dad, and Kevin can quit working for him, too. He already has higher-paying and more flexible work lined up.

The new job is going great. I get to cut hateful flowery phrases ("It makes history unforgettable!") and extra words from our catalog. Then I get to analyze how our books stand up to theirs. It's surprisingly fun, and cutting flowery ad-speak is like a dream come true.

What else . . . . Let's see. We don't have a toilet in our house! Yes, there are hazards to redoing a bathroom when you only have one bathroom. Kevin took it out yesterday. Stevie pooped in a bucket outfitted with a bag, and I missed it! Luckily, it was a nice night last night, and peeing in the yard brought back pleasant memories of my cabin and seeing stars configured in ways that humans rarely see. Most people don't venture outside at 3:45 am in early April. I feel lucky! We may be without a toilet for the rest of the week. But, when it goes in again, it will be placed atop a very pretty light-greyish-blue and tan ceramic tile floor, and in front of pine beadboard wainscotting. Can you picture anything lovelier? Only in Restoration Hardware. (See www.wwygomnimedia.blogspot.com)

It's just about time to leave for the bank. I will try to write again this week and let all interested parties know how Stevie's kindergarten registration went. I'm sure the two of you will enjoy it.

Bye!