Against my lone wolf inclinations, I joined a carpool. I was a bit shamed into it, since a carpool runs right by my house each and every workday. There are actually two carpools from my suburb to the office. No matter how green you think a hybrid car is, not driving it is greener. So I joined a carpool. For the greater good and all that.

You know what? I kind of dig my carpool. It's become my little sewing circle. I talk about the people in it a lot. All the time, really. I never noticed it until family came to visit me, and it seemed every sentence started with, "Well, I asked the guys in my carpool …" or "Something interesting happened in carpool …"

There are some things about the carpool I truly do NOT dig. Like the pick-up hour: 6:30 a.m. Brutal. And the departure hour: always about 30 minutes past the time I'm ready to leave. Killer.

I have not been quiet about my displeasure on this last count.

So recently, the other carpool underwent some restructuring. They're short on members. They've come to recruit me. They have tempted me with their alternate carpool model: go in later, leave earlier.

Continue reading “the first rule of carpool: no talking about carpool” →

My house feels a bit like a hotel, except that no one is coming in and cleaning it up while I am away. I figured out that in all of August I will sleep in my own bed 11 nights out of the month. Now you know I love me some travel, but I'm pretty ready for familiar territory. Four states in 22 days — I am having a "North American Tour" T-shirt made.

I'm also ready to stop talking for a while. Between family reunion, class reunion, and a presentation I will give 8 times before Sept. 1, I'm tired of the sound of my own voice!  

Next trip: Nashville for Labor Day. I cannot resist the siren song.

PEORIA — The nephews, along with their parents, came by on Sunday morning to tell me goodbye. They were dressed in their Sunday best matching White Sox shirts. There was some discussion about the team's play the night before (whose fault was the loss? The third base coach was blamed) and upcoming schedule. And we talked about the start of school — middle school for one of them, how did that happen?

Finally there was a group hug, which is a miracle when you consider it involved three young men standing still for more than 12 seconds. We barely got this pic snapped before they were a blur of action again. Off to church they went.

I had a gondola for breakfast and one last conversation with my parents. My dad drove me to the airport after sharing a few choice remarks about the heaviness of my luggage. I made a few choice remarks about Peoria being one of the few cities that does not have a direct Delta flight.

So in the Bloomington airport who should I see but my neighbor PJC, who was coming into town for a meeting just as I was leaving. We're like that pair in the Waitresses' song "Christmas Wrapping," who run into each other in passing, even though we live one mile apart.

It's always good to come home. All roads lead there (with a stop through Bloomington) and the most important people remain there.

What a great week! So many activities that it’s hard to keep up with the blogging. I am a bit tired, but as Letterman used to say, it’s the good kind of tired.

 

Read all about it and step inside the social circle

 

Continue reading “week in review” →

People who know me well (e.g., JFA) were surprised to learn that I am having my deck rebuilt. The workers arrived this morning and I'm pretty excited … although it's a little disturbing to see nothing but joists outside my kitchen door. I usually go out onto the deck 2 or 3 times a day, typically to gauge how hot it is. (I am working on the Mapgirl Scale of Discomfort, something that ranges from Annoying to Excruciating.)

Given that, you might say, why rebuild the deck? Do you really spend that much time out there? (Actually that's exactly what JFA said.) The answer is yes, when it's not blistering hot. I enjoy coming home from work to sit outside and listen to music and read.

The deck was a big selling point for the house, although I must confess it's what it represents as much as how I use it. I envision having people over for drinks, or spending all of a sunny morning out there with a book, surrounded by a lovely container garden. Thanks to my mom, at least the container garden is a reality.

I am looking forward to cooler evenings in October, listening to the World Series, lounging by twinkle lights. Come on by, won't you? Well, let's make sure they finish it. That first step is a doozy …

 

The travel day did not start well. You know the drill: construction, lines, multiple delays, blah blah blah. I arrived at the airline check-in counter hot, sweaty and bent out of shape. But a calm, friendly counter agent had just the ticket: a welcoming word and a persuasive argument for upgrading to business class. Let me be clear: I was traveling on my own dime, not the company's. The offer was attractive. I said yes.

And after the jam-packed flight was delayed for the third time — the last of which took place while we sat in the plane, waiting for some fuel issues to be resolved. Oh, the stream of cool air, the roomy seat and all the Coke Zero I could drink. So happy. So productive! So grateful! So spoiled! So free from hassle!

I have seen the promised land. Please don't make me go back to coach.

That is where I am destined to return. But this was a nice little mini-vacation, thanks to Abdullah. That was the name of my personal airline upgrade advisor. My seatmate (who also upgraded based on his advice) agreed that Abdullah more than earned his money today. We also agreed that we will be recognizing his efforts to customer service!

I have to get something off my chest.

First of all, I know there is no excuse for what I did. But just let me say, I am on the road. In a town where no one knows me. And my need was strong. Then I found myself in a compromising position.

So I did something I said I'd never do.

I purchased something at Wal-Mart.

Continue reading “sugary shame” →

From the "I love you, you're perfect, now change" category: l live in a wonderful place that I often find frustrating. It's beautiful, safe and sanitized for your protection. Amazingly, it has no movie theater, no Walgreen's** and no Indian restaurant.

Yeah, I know.   

I have to drive about 40 minutes for Indian food, which I've thought about for the past two weekends, but haven't overcome the inertia. Finally, tonight, I had Indian for dinner! And I only had to come to Lafayette, Indiana, to get it.

______________________-

** Seriously. Can you believe it? I think there are only 5 such burgs in the continental U.S.

All the great mandolin music I've heard lately led me to get my precious baby out of the closet. I am under some kind of delusion that if I practice enough I can get half as good as John Teel, the mandolin player for Chatham County Line.

But I bet he never had 8 strong, long fingernails at the same time. This is rare for me. Now I'm going to have to cut them off. You cannot play mandolin with long fingernails.

Who am I kidding? I can't even play mandolin with short fingernails. The sacrifices a musician must make …

Today’s mail contained an envelope from my nephew containing a baseball card and a note in his 11-year-old hand: “Put this on your mirror. Hee hee ha ha.”

It’s the baseball card of the Milwaukee Brewer hitter involved in the episode that got the Braves pitcher and manager ejected. In an e-mail to my brother, I believe I used the term “crybaby.”

I like that somehow this news reached my nephew, and that he remembered it, and that he sat down and wrote me a teasing note.

How can I be sad that he’s growing up?