239 Miles of Thinking (and Some Loud and Terrible Singing)
It has been an emotionally draining week. It ended with my monthly road trip to Philadelphia and back, which is usually highlighted by the trip to the Asian food bar at Wegman’s. But even a box full of curried lamb and pot stickers have done little to lift the weight of world that’s settled onto my shoulders.
However, armed with my new trusty ipod shuffle loaded with several of my favorite bands (heavy on the OWTH, AM!, Fur, The Go Set and Pennywise but completely devoid of any Elliott Smith songs because it’s spring and Elliott Smith should only be listened to on cold rainy November days or if someone kills your puppy and eats it) and plenty of time spent driving in circles because all though it is alleged that Benjamin Franklin laid out the streets of Philadelphia in a neat grid form (LIES, ALL OF IT LIES) I was able to be alone with my thoughts for most of the day. (and again, thanks Jim Tanner, for giving me the wonderful shuffle to let me have music back in my life).
So there I was, sunroof opened, hopelessly turned about in North Philly, my phone GPS always two steps behind my current locations (aka being completely useless, as were my mapquest maps). Annoying those around me with my glorious alto voice, I kept returning to the events of the past few days that have left me feeling defeated, and basically like a desiccated corpse. It’s been a really rough week. So I tried thinking happy thoughts, because the job frowns on my driving around with a water bottle full of vodka and cocoa, at least on work time. I feel it is very important to share many of these valuable and fascinating thoughts with you, gentle reader:
- Dead skunks are the only true sign of spring. The poor fellows awaken, wander onto roads everywhere, and die. Their death is the sacrifice that brings on spring. Not robins. Not geese. Not onion snow. Skunks. You read it here first.
- There are too many drivers on the road that do not understand the purpose of marking lines on the road. The speed limit is a suggestion; lane lines are a rule. Stay in your own lane. If you can’t drive a large vehicle and keep it in your very ample lane, buy a fiat. And reenact the commercial.
- There must be a subliminal message in reality tv. Like ice cream, or irish soda bread, it gets in your blood and some how you can’t look away. Unless it has to do with duck calls or Kardashians. Then you must avert your eyes. Or you will turn to a pillar of artificial sweetener.
- Kid hugs can cure a lot of bad things. I’ve hugged as many little people this week that would allow it and not make me look like some sort of creeper. However the innocence of little children should be distilled and sold in tablet form. It kills a lot of the bad mojo that grownups cast off around me.
- A kid climbing a lingering snow bank on their way to school in the morning will always make me smile.
- I feel like there are far too many drivers from Quebec on the roads. Is there no fence being built to keep these Canadians out? (not all Canadians, just those who drive, from Quebec).
- If you have a car that is designed for driving fast, either drive it the way it was built to be driven or follow the instructions in number two, but buy a ford escort. No sense in wasting a fine italian car. And when I blow by you, don’t get all offended. You’re the slowpoke. I have things to do.
- This has been bothering me for days. If you open a Tattoo shop and you call it “Good Vibrations” and have a Jamaican theme, I have several issues. First, I would expect you to be from Jamaica. Second, if you are from Jamaica, and you have a tattoo shop, I would suspect that you probably enjoy the ganja. If you are from Jamaica, and enjoying the ganja, you are probably not going to be very successful with the whole tattooing thing, because while your creativity would be enhanced, there’s always a fear that your mind is going go from pretty unicorn with flower to cheeseburger and gravy fries, and I would hate to end up with a unicorn that’s made from french fries on my arm or leg.
Okay, all that thinking made me tired, but before I go, I finally came up with an idea for my 2 year cancer free tattoo (which was supposed to be my one year, but I couldn’t settle on a design that would incorporate all the ideas for honoring everything that pulled me through that dark time). Really the only reason I’m getting another tattoo is because everyone in the oncology department always asks if I have new ink, and perhaps a new tattoo will make them forget to stab and scrape at me next time. Of course, it will likely end up being a 5 year anniversary tattoo, because we all know how good I am at doing things a timely manner. Speaking of which, I guess I should take the Christmas tree down sometime before Easter.
PS. You know those stories about how people see feather or dimes on the street as a sign from a dead loved one. Well, a few months ago, I was musing in the car, and I thought, probably out loud, that if my dear dead friend Joey really could send me a sign, he should send a cardinal or maybe an owl. I forgot about it for a while. Cardinals are not uncommon here, but you don’t often see them near the highway, owls usually aren’t out during the day. Anyway, I’m speeding along today, and swoosh! Here comes a crazy kamikaze cardinal headed for the grille of the car! I don’t know how it lived, but I laughed out loud, because that was clearly a sign. I am just glad it didn’t hit the car because I drove around with the last dead bird in my grille for days until Andy got it out. So JC, I know you’re out there, so the next sign I need is a small stack of hundreds, k? And don’t throw them at the car, just set them on the seat.
Now I bid you a fond adieu! Time to fall asleep watching Dexter! or read. I probably should read.