Wouldn't You Know...

It wasn't always an easy trip, but I'm home at last!

Yesterday I got up and looked at the Plymouth-Brockton website for the bus schedule. My two choices were 11:40 or 12:40; the former would get me to Logan two and a half hours before my 4:00 flight, the latter only one and a half. The last time I did that flight (in July), I took the 11:40 flight, got to the airport with tons of time, and sat at the gate bored out of my mind. Still, I was torn about what bus I should take, because I did not relish the idea of getting lectured about how you're supposed to arrive at the airport two hours before your flight.

My Dad asked what time my bus was, and my Mom answered, "Noon." I don't know why, but I didn't contradict her, probably because I still wasn't sure what bus I was going to take. Dad left the house, then came back at 11:15 while Mom was in the shower. He asked again about the bus, and I told him about my two choices. He wanted me to get the earlier bus, but for that we'd have to leave right then, and Mom wouldn't be ready to go. I told him I'd take the 12:40 bus, so we could leave at 12:15.

We sat around the kitchen table watching the clock (no deep, meaningful conversation - so glad I chose to hang around for that!) then left a few minutes early. Arriving at the bus stop, I went to buy my ticket while my folks stood guard at my suitcases. (As a side note, I find it interesting that in other countries, people line up (or 'queue up' in the Commonwealth countries) at the bus stop, while we Americans just mill around. When the bus arrives, there's no order or fairness as to who gets on in what order. Strange.) The bus arrived late, and when the driver opened up the cargo doors, I realized just how full this bus was. The entire hold looked full of suitcases and, sure enough, almost every seat was full. This had never happened to me before on this bus, and I started to get anxious. What if not everyone were able to get on? If it were me, and I had arrived first at the bus stop but was unable to get on, I'd be pissed!

We left that stop with one seat empty, but at the next stop more people wanted to get on. I didn't know this bus line allowed it, but three people ended up standing in the aisle. We stopped once more, letting off a couple of people and leaving two standing. The driver called out to see if anyone were getting off at the last stop before South Station, and since no one answered, we continued on Rtes 3 and then 93, making up for lost time.

Two things to keep in mind at this point: the bus was running late, and ever since Barnstable people were grumbling about not making their flights. All this grumbling got to me, so I was also feeling nervous as we continued towards Boston.

Unexpectedly, the bus went over a few hard, jarring bumps (construction? pot holes?), and we could suddenly smell some kind of chemical. Since there was construction happening on the highway, I wasn't sure if the odor was coming from outside or the bus itself. My questions were soon answered when the bus, which had been cruising fast in the left lane, gradually began to slow down. I could hear horns coming from behind us, but cars continued to speed past on our right, so the bus wasn't able to pull over. Finally, the driver leaned on his own horn while easing his way to the right. As the bus came to a dead stop in the right-hand lane (there was no break-down lane here), those of us in the back could see brown smoke streaming up past the windows.

We all stood up, gathered our things, and waited to get out. As more smoke billowed up, and as the people in front didn't seem to be moving, a few passengers shouted out, an edge of panic in their voices. I don't mean to imply anything, but I found it interesting that it was all women who yelled; I found it equally interesting that it was another woman who told them not to panic. Turned out that the bus had pulled over right up against a wall, so it was actually difficult to get out of the bus and squeeze past the open door so that we could mill around in the lee of the bus.

I didn't see the driver, and because we weren't getting any information, I called my Sister to pick me up. I know it was a lot to ask, especially because she was at least 25 minutes away and had three children to deal with, but I was getting desperate to make my flight. She agreed to come get me after she arranged rides for her kids, then quickly called me back saying she was on her way. What a champ!

Meanwhile, a firetruck showed up as well as MA state troopers and an ambulance. I found it funny that the guy from the bus who ended up talking to the cops and firemen - almost as the bus spokesman - was actually retarded. Maybe not completely, but he was NOT all there, if you know what I mean. After the ambulance left, word spread that the bus driver was taken away. I don't know how he got sick, but I was hoping it was just the fumes and not a heart attack. Meanwhile, cars kept passing, some very slow so they could stare at us; now I know how traffic jams form. Assholes.

At this point, I was trying to figure out how I would get my suitcase out from the bus for when my Sis showed up. I called her to get an update, and she said she was on her way but in the traffic (created by the breakdown, of course); she also suggested I call the airline to tell them I was on my way. I tried calling Alaska Air at Logan, but screaming over the sound of traffic was not conducive to making a call. It didn't seem like I could reach the desk anyway.

Finally, after the firetruck put out the fire and left, and after one state trooper moved his car and opened up another lane of traffic, two buses showed up. I helped get everyone's baggage out of the bus and set my own aside. As all my fellow passengers got onto the other buses, I was still trying to call the airline as I planned on waiting for my Sister. A short state trooper (the worst combination!) came over and told me that the buses were leaving. I tried to tell him that I was waiting for my sister, but he barked that I could in no way stand on the highway, even though the broken-down bus was still going to be there. Figuring that I couldn't argue with a MA state trooper (the very definition of officious), I grabbed my suitcase and got on to the second bus.

My Sister took it well when I told her what happened - again, what a trooper! As our bus passed the first one on the highway (I chose the faster bus - yea!), I called the airline again, but this time I chose to get arrival/departure times. We made our stop at South Station just as I learned my mistake: the plane wasn't leaving at 4, it was scheduled to leave at 4:35. Not only did it look like I'd make my flight, but it also looked like I'd be half an hour early.

Sure enough, there was no one lining up at the ticket counter, so I handed the attendant my suitcase and gave him my name. Instead of lecturing me about how late I was, he asked if I knew someone with the same last name, to which I replied, "You asked me that already." Yes, this counter attendant was the same one who helped me in July when I flew out of Logan, and we'd had a conversation determining that I didn't know the person he was referring to. I told him I'd see him in a few months as I rushed off to my gate.

Ultimately, what I thought about the whole experience was how strange it is to go through something like that, then sit down with fellow passengers who had no idea what I just went through. I wanted to shout, "It was harder for me to get here than all of you. You've all been here bored while I was standing on the highway worrying that I wouldn't make it. But I did!" Or something like that. Not that anyone would care.

This morning I went to boston.com, but wouldn't you know, not a word. I guess 60 people standing on the highway next to a smoking bus and causing a huge traffic jam just isn't news anymore.

Driving In The Rain

My older Sister came for a visit with her Daughter and their small dog. They arrived Friday afternoon and left today around 1:00 pm. Thing is, they were supposed to be here last weekend, which is the time my Mom was expected to be getting out of the hospital. For their sakes, I'm glad they didn't come last weekend because they would've been stuck just visiting Mom in the hospital. For MY sake, however, I almost wish they had come last weekend.

When last I spoke to Sis, she said she would be coming the weekend of the 20th. I then emailed friends here in MA to say that I could play D&D (yes, I still play D&D, but that's a topic for another day) on the 27th. It was only after I arrived here on the Cape that my Sister informed me she would be visiting the weekend of the 26th. When I told her my plans of driving off Cape, she gave me the guilt trip. How could I leave her and visit my friends when she'd only be here for the weekend? She only sees me twice a year, how could I spend some of that precious time away? Don't I miss her? Don't I want to see my Niece? Ugh! My dirty little secret is that, if anyone wants me to do anything, all they need do is have my Sister ask me. She can guilt me into doing anything.

Since I really wanted to see my friends, since I really wanted to play D&D, and since I was going to be exchanging an old lap top for a new one, I worked out a compromise: I would leave the Cape fairly late - around 3 - and then drive back after D&D so that I'd be here in the morning before they left. I thought that would be a good compromise because our group had been planning to finish early anyway, so I could probably make it back here by 1 am.

The problem? This is the weekend that a tropical storm was moving through, so during my two-and-a-half-hour drive I had to deal with downpours, flooded highways, at least one major accident, and hydroplaning. It wasn't much fun, but I did get there without incident.

The evening was wonderful: good friends, great food, and a fun D&D session. However, we ended up finishing after the time we thought we were going to, and then Greg had to finish prepping the laptop. Kate's rule held true: whatever time Greg gives, just multiply it by 3. Sure enough, Greg's "twenty minutes" turned into an hour. I in no way can complain - a free laptop fully prepped is nothing to sneeze at - but I kept thinking about my drive home. I almost wanted to take Kate up on her offer and sleep over, but my Sister's words kept ringing in my ears. I soldiered on.

Luckily, most of the heavy rain had already passed, and because of the late hour, there weren't a lot of cars on the road. Still, wouldn't you know that the one time I decided to pass a slow moving car, it hit a huge puddle and splashed water over my windshield - completely obscuring my vision. Because it wasn't raining hard at that point, I didn't even have my wipers on. I was tired, moving fast on a two-lane road along side another car, and I couldn't see a thing. If nothing else, that sure got my adrenaline pumping!

The rest of the drive proceeded without incident except for my hydroplaning and battling fatigue. I got in around 3 am, but because of all the caffeine I drank to stay awake, I was unable to fall asleep until 4. At 8:30 I woke up - probably to use the bathroom - but I could hear my Sister and Niece already up, so I got out of bed and went downstairs.

And here's what really pissed me off. All that talk about wanting me here and spending time with me seemed to be just that - talk. The reality is, I'm tired and GRUMPY in the morning and not much fun to be around until after I've had (lots of) coffee. Also, Sis was on a schedule to leave, so most of her morning was spent packing up and getting ready (including an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom). Not really the QUALITY time she had in mind, I'm sure. So basically, I put myself at risk driving back at 2am in the rain just so I could be a half-awake, grouchy lump in her presence. Not really worth it, I'd say.

The highlight of the morning came as a lesson in why you should write things down as soon as you hear them. While sitting at the breakfast table, my Niece informed us that Sis will sometimes sing in the shower. She said, "She sings to the sound of ________ in the shower." The blank was a word I can no longer remember, but it had to do with the rhythm (beating? tapping?) of the water hitting the floor. It was so poetic! I thought at the time that I wanted to remember it, but I was probably just on my first cup of coffee, so obviously that wasn't gonna happen.

If nothing else, at least I was around for that.

Meta-Blogging

Maybe I should've gotten this out of the way on the first posting, but I can't help thinking about someone else reading this blog - which of course leads to the question of why write a blog in the first place.

If my mom were to ask what a 'blog' is, I'd describe it as an online diary or journal (the former being what a girl writes and thus something my mom might understand, the latter being what a boy writes and thus showing her that I do in fact know what a boy would call it) that anyone can read. Assuming they find it. Or care what a complete stranger has to say. However, this description is disingenuous - for me anyway - because I'm writing this with the understanding that it isn't a private journal; thus, absolutely private/secret things are not going here. But, isn't that why one writes a journal in the first place? Besides, the likelihood of anyone reading this beyond one or two entries (if that) is so remote that I really shouldn't worry about what I post, right? Then why not put down secrets? Or, why write at all?

I guess the answer has to be that I enjoy collecting my thoughts and putting them in some slightly-organized form. And even though I'm currently between jobs (cough cough), this is a good way for me to keep up my writing skills should the need arise to actually use them. I won't put down secrets because I may one day invite friends/family to read this, and I wouldn't want to over share. (Although it does make me think about starting a private, X-rated blog. Hmm...) Finally, should strangers actually find and read these posts, it would be good to share opinions and - to quote "Seinfeld" - yadda yadda yadda.

The only other problem I've encountered so far with writing a blog is that I forget half the things that I think about or happen to me during the day. I hear something on NPR, get outraged, then when I finally sit down to compose this, I can't remember exactly what outraged me. I suppose I should just write things down as soon as they happen, even if that means multiple posts on the same day. Who would care, right? Is there some blogger protocol which states you can't do that?

Home At Last

Yesterday we learned that Mom woke up Sunday night with chest pains and a spike in her blood pressure. The docs wanted to do more tests, so it looked like she'd be spending at least one more night in the hospital. Dad didn't talk about it, but I could tell he was worried. We went for a visit after lunch and stayed for a few hours. During that time, they took her for a CAT scan, but we hadn't received the results before we left. They also tested her blood pressure, and thankfully it was back down to normal.

I'm now at that age when parents are starting to look old, but especially my parents, since they are typically ten years older than my peers'. That being said, my cousins lost their dad last year (my favorite uncle - that loss is still hard to take, especially during baseball season), and one of my best friends lost his dad the year before. I guess I can't complain that my folks are just looking old. Still, it always seems to be a shock when I see them for the first time after being away. Sunday that was seeing my Dad step out of his car when he came to pick me up at the bus stop; yesterday that was seeing my Mom lying in her hospital bed. It hasn't helped that they've both lost weight recently. Because the weight loss was due to illness, they don't look healthier but more shriveled, if that's the right word. Actually, they are now about the age of my grandparents when I first became sentient. By the time I came of a thinking age, my grandparents were already in their 70's, and I thought they were old. Apparently, it's now my folks' turn.

Today I went back to the hospital to pick up Mom. Despite all that worrying, the tests came back fine (although they're still not sure what the chest pains are from - makes you wonder why they let her go), so they discharged her. In the meantime, Dad drove himself up to my sister's so that the two of them could attend my aunt's wake. Anna Melloni was not my real aunt, but she was married to my Dad's childhood friend, so I've known them all my life. Anna was a wonderful person - smart, energetic and fun-loving - and she will be missed. I don't envy my sister going to the wake!


Because of everything going on, I haven't really been following the campaign. Actually, it is my natural inclination to avoid politics; otherwise, the last eight years would've killed me. Anyway, I've already formed my opinion and know I'm going to vote for Obiden, so why keep listening to the same old crap? I don't think there's anything that McPalin could say at this point to make me change my mind. It's not just the fact that I like the Obiden ticket, it's also that I just can't stand the idea of another four years under republican rule - even if the 'pub is a supposed maverick. How can we take the chance? As Prez Clinton reminded us during the Democratic National Convention, the 'pubs had four years with complete control of the presidency and congress, and look what happened. Can you say, "Illegal War"! Besides which, McCain has already promised if given the chance, he will select more supreme court justices in the mold of Scalia and Thomas.

If that were to happen, I'd seriously look at moving to Canada.

Weekends Ain't What They Used To Be

Saturday we attended a graduation party for a friend who finished after two decades of course work. I think that sets a record! To be fair, most of those 20 years was spent not taking classes, so I think he earned the degree in about the same time as you'd expect. Anyway, the food they provided was eclectic (pickled herring, cheeses, dips, veggies) and delicious, but later that evening my stomach was not feeling well enough to try and make it to another friend's 50th birthday party. I ended up going to bed early so that Sunday...


...I could wake up at 4:20 am and get ready for my 7:00 flight to Boston. I love Alaska Air's direct flight, but I wish they could do something about that schedule! On the flipside, I love the fact that the return flight out of Boston is at 4:00 pm and arrives in Portland at 7. That usually leaves the evening free for at least one drink, not to mention some catch-up time with Partner.

In any case, the flight was quite pleasant, especially because I got to the airport early enough to change my seat to an exit row. Gotta love the leg room! Also, I sat next to a young couple from Portland who were visiting family in Belmont before flying off to Paris (for a 12-hour lay-over) and then South Africa for two and a half weeks. Apparently they won a safari trip at an auction and decided to take that opportunity to see parts of the Continent. How did I find out so much and even more?

Normally I never talk to other passengers on a flight. Maybe it's the Bostonian in me, or the fact that I can be introverted and quite shy - or maybe it's the fact that I fear being friendly to some one who subsequently won't shut up and wants to invite me to a Bible study - but in any case, I usually try to avoid saying anything to my seatmates beyond "excuse me" or "thanks." For whatever reason, this time was different, and the woman (I never did get her name) was pleasant, funny and, most importantly, knew when to end the conversation.

At one point, a couple things occurred to me: a) people from Portland seem to be generally nicer than East Coasters; and b) flights are so much better when you think of your seatmates as part of your 'team' and not your enemies. Later I realized the same thing holds true for driving. If all of us on the road thought of each other as teammates and not enemies (after all, we all want us to get where we're going safely), there wouldn't be so much aggression and bad feelings. This of course leads to my long-standing belief that there should be more Public Service Announcements on tv about safe driving - but that's fodder for another blog.

Sunday evening I arrived in Boston, but because the luggage took a long time to come out (typical at Logan), I missed the first bus to the Cape and had to kill almost an hour at the terminal. When I finally got to Hyannis, I learned that Mom was going to be in the hospital for another night. Even though the surgery went well, recovery was taking longer than expected, and they still wanted to make sure that everything was ok. I hate to think it, but I guess I hadn't been worrying for nothing...

"What Operation?" or What Happens When You Forget To Call

Mom went into the hospital this morning for an operation that could've been relatively simple or - if there were complications - quite serious. The problem was that the doctor couldn't predict it; he'd know only after he started the procedure. The good son that I am, I forgot to call her yesterday to wish her good luck. I guess I had it in mind that, since today was the operation, today was the day to call. Duh.

When I called Dad this morning, he said that the operation started later than expected and Mom was still in the O.R. He'd call later - in an hour if everything went well - and tell me how she was. Two and half hours after that, I was out on my walk and still hadn't heard anything.

Which is, of course, when the worrying began. As I walked, I started having fantasies about the operation. Turned out that the procedure was more serious, and they had to cut her open. It was only then that they realized she was a bleeder. Suddenly, the operation got deadly serious and was beyond the expertise of the Cape Cod doctors. Soon I'd get the call that she was dead. Even knowing this was all made up, tears filled my eyes.

I shook that off and dismissed it as needless worry. Of course she was alright. In fact, there were no complications, she was fine, and Dad just forgot to call. That had to be it. Wouldn't you know it, my mobile phone rang.

It was my younger sister. Judging by her tone of voice (which I was consciously listening to), I could tell that everything was fine. Turned out my latter prediction was true. My sister told me she had been worrying (which made me think: is worrying a Nature-vs-Nurture thing? Did we learn this from our folks, or were we born this way?) and decided to be proactive and call Dad. He was, in fact, just hanging out in the hospital, drinking coffee with my Aunt, and neglecting to call his children. His defense, "I guess I'm just not good at these things." Thanks.

My Dad is a wonderful person, definitely self-less, but almost certainly self-centered. As we like to joke, "It's all about me."

But that's probably a blog for another day...

Odds and Ends

I am so sick of women (and a few men, for that matter) saying that they aren't going to vote for Obiden - or vote at all - because of the way Hillary was treated during the primary. Sure it's disappointing that your candidate didn't win, but does that mean you should abdicate your responsibility to vote? I don't think so. This is especially true if you were going to vote for Hillary because of her values (if you were only voting for Hillary because she was a woman, then McCain picked the right running mate after all). Most of what Hillary stood for, Obama stands for. Conversely, most of what Bush stood for, McCain stands for, so not voting for Obiden is just like saying you'll be happy with four more years of the republican/Bush agenda. If that were true, why be for Hillary in the first place? I think "Hillary" said it best on the Saturday Night Live skit two weeks ago, "I didn't want a woman to be President, I wanted to be President, and I just happen to be a woman." BTW, if you haven't seen that skit yet, by all means click over to www.nbc.com and watch the SNL opener with Palin/Clinton vs. sexism. It is spot-on hilarious.


Today we had a couple of guys from the Oregon Energy Trust come into our home to run tests and see how we can make our house more energy efficient. Judging by the work they did, it's already worth the $500 fee to have them in here. However, we won't actually pay them until they return with a full report on their findings and recommendations. Great idea, and I'm glad we're doing it. But, boy is it weird to have people in your home for 4-5 hours. I couldn't watch tv or listen to NPR because of the work, and I didn't want to do anything that might be seen as a frivolous waste of time (think: solitaire on the computer). It was really just awkward, but maybe that's just me.


Palin: "I said, 'Thanks, but no thanks' for the bridge to nowhere." Um, actually, your record is public, Sarah, so we know that you didn't say that. You supported it up until the government pulled the plug.

The next day: "I said, 'Thanks, but no thanks' for the bridge to nowhere." Sarah, you didn't say that, so maybe it would behoove you to change your story.

The next day: "I said, 'Thanks, but no thanks' for the bridge to nowhere." Sarah, your saying it doesn't alter the truth. You didn't support it, and everyone knows it. Stop lying!

Great choice, McCain. The first words out of her mouth are a lie. You call yourselves mavericks? Sounds like every other politician to me.

Drill, Baby, Drill

I swear not every post will be political, but...

There's been a lot of talk about our nation's dependence on oil, and it seems to me there are two issues: getting our country less dependent on foreign oil sources, and weaning ourselves off from our oil addiction entirely.

The former issue is a band-aid at best and extremely harmful at worst. The underlying assumption of this is that we WILL continue to use oil as our main source of energy, despite the fact that it is a fossil fuel and contributing to "global weirding." (This is a term used by some scientists to denote the fact that global warming is a misnomer; our planet's weather won't just get warmer, it'll actually get stranger: hotter hots, colder colds, stronger storms, longer droughts, etc.) Oil not only pollutes the planet, but it's also a finite (and expensive) source of energy. This is not a long-term solution to our problem.

The latter issue - weaning ourselves off of oil - is the solution espoused by both candidates as well as the Bush administration. Makes sense: the investment in renewable sources of energy will create jobs and help the economy, and the energy sources will be non-polluting and infinite. (If only Reagan hadn't derailed this effort in the 80's. Imagine what our country would be like now if we had continued with this as Jimmy Carter had wanted.)

The problem: the republicans (or people voting for them) are talking about doing both. Their solution: while we're developing these alternate sources or energy, let's start more drilling off our coasts and (as Palin wants) in Alaska. Logically this makes no sense and is hypocritical at best - underhanded and evil at worst - and here's why.

'Drilling' is not as simple as pounding a giant bit into the ground and collecting a fountain of Texas Tea. It takes years of research, it's environmentally unsound (and thus subject to potential lawsuits) and it's costly. The most optimistic guess on when we could see the benefits of drilling is five years, with most analysts saying it would be at least 10. Which is not to say that we would then be completely independent from other countries' oil supplies, we would just have a little more.

Again, according to the 'pubs, this would be happening at the same time as the research and development of alternate fuels. In that case, what's the point? Why spend years and millions of dollars on drilling when, at the end of 5-10 years, we would've developed something else and wouldn't need the oil? If we're honestly looking into solar, wind, tides, fusion, etc, why bother with the huge investment of drilling?

The cynic in me says that the 'pubs aren't being honest. They say that they're for alternate fuel sources when they really just want to help the big oil companies. They have no real interest in developing alternate fuel sources, as evidenced by the alternative energy tax credit bill which has stalled in Congress. What they want is the same thing that the oil execs want: huge sums of money at our expense.

The worst part: we were the suckers chanting along with Guilliani, "Drill, baby, drill."

Maiden Voyage

Indignation and anger have led me to some violent thoughts and wild flights of fancy. The action I take? Start a blog! Makes sense to me. It is one of the easiest things to do, after all.

Until this year, I was always registered as an independent, but the truth is, I'm really a left-winger with more than a dash of libertarianism. Needless to say, the last eight years have driven me crazy. It seemed hardly a week went by when we didn't learn of some new outrage coming from the Bush administration. How many administrations have there been where starting an illegal war was just the tip of the iceberg!

Now we're faced with McCain/Palin. Argh! Eight years ago I seriously thought about voting for McCain (before he had a private meeting with Bush during the primaries and emerged declaring that he was conceding to Bush's campaign - makes me wonder what was said during the meeting). I ended up voting for Nader. I was living in Massachusetts at the time (my home state) and realized that Gore was still going to get MA's electoral votes, so why not throw some support behind a 'viable' third party? In my opinion, this country absolutely needs more points of view represented.

Back to McCain/Palin. I listen to NPR almost every day, and I often hear interviews with 'average' citizens. What kills me is that people who say they're going to vote for McPalin more often than not are projecting their own beliefs onto the candidates or use false logic to justify their choice. For example: just a few minutes ago a Florida man said that, even though McCain was a war hero and Obama worked for the poor community in Chicago, neither one understood the plights of the 'common man.' And that's why he's voting for McPalin?! This makes no sense, especially when one considers that both Barack and Michelle Obama have working-class roots. Another example: a woman just said that she likes McCain's family values, even though he's the only one of the candidates to be divorced. Where's the logic in that?

It just goes on and on. Now there's a "Fresh Air" episode about Cheney (Darth Vader) and how he made himself into the strongest vice president in history. The author was also interviewed last night on "The Daily Show." I'll buy and read the book when I want to give myself an aneurysm.

Bumper sticker from my car: "Cthulhu for President - Why vote for the lesser of two evils?"