a major award

My brother travels a lot for work, and often gets assigned to towns around the U.S. I'd never heard of, such as Truth Or Consequences, NM or somewhere near Cadiz, KY (I wish I could find that pic of the "Cadiz Laundromat" he sent me). He has to dress nice. But I guess because of the flights and hotels, there isn't too much leftover to pay the employees a whole lot. I guess he racks up airline miles, so that's a plus.

At the end of 2010, he called me to say he'd won an award from his company: "Most Traveled." Apparently, my brother had spent 40 weeks on the road, at 21 separate project sites. He was out of town for most of the year, but he made the most of it by taking side trips on the weekends. He's called me from the Staples Center, Vegas, the top of the Space Needle and from the Houston Rockets' game. A few times he even made it home to see us.

I'd asked him to send me postcards. At Christmas he handed me a stack of picturesque scenes from everywhere he'd been--not a bit of handwriting on a single one. That kid. Here is the lineup* of where he was, with side trips in parentheses:

10/4/09 Clinton, MO
10/24/09 Sibley, MN
10/31/09 Schuyllkill, PA**
11/15-22/09 Benton, KY
12/6/09 Dallas
1/16-23/10 Sibley, MN (Chicago)
2/6-14/10 Winnfield, LA
3/20/10 St. Clairsville, PA (Pittsburgh)
4/17/10-5/1/10 Truth Or Consequences, NM (Las Vegas, Los Angeles)
5/15-22/10 Okmulgee,OK (Chicago)
6/10/10 St. Croix Falls, WI
6/26/10 Chillicothe, MO
7/11-24/10 Lubbock, TX (Washington D.C.)
7/31/10-8/14/10 New York City
8/22/10-9/6/10 Walla Walla,WA (Seattle)
9/18/10-10/2/10 St. Croix Falls,WI (Chicago, St. Louis)
10/10-15/10 Watertown, NY
10/17-22/10 Rosemead, CA (Los Angeles)
11/1-5/10 St. Croix falls, WI
11/7-12/10 Coldwater, MI
11/28/10-12/17/10 Monticello, AK (Chicago, Houston)

The company gave him a little certificate along with his award, which was a $5 Starbucks gift card. I'm sure he took his time to figure out just how he was going to spend it.

***UPDATE***
Apparently I overlooked this postcard, which was in the pile of blank ones:

 

Texas Tech University, Lubbock, TX

And here was the verbose message on the back: 

"This is some statue on campus in their Quad I guess."

* I tried to check the spellings, but sorry if I misspelled your town.
**he wanted it noted that it was 14 straight 12-hour shifts

it's there. people just don't say it when they can see you.

A few months ago, two people in the span of a week told me that white people are becoming a minority. One in person to my face, and one on Facebook (where each Wall Update is a direct message to me, naturally). I was pretty confused by this because hello, look around. The latter discussion was about how racism is still around, but in very subtle ways. I just couldn't think of an example off the top of my head.

Today, a frustrated employee in a different department transferred to me this lady who I assumed was old (but actually isn't too much older than my dad). She didn't want to accept that X-Ray image quality on a disc is just as good as on huge, inconvenient, expensive sheets of film. She was trying to get her records from another facility to bring to our hospital and was told that the request her physician put in for was never made. Instead of asking her doc to re-request it, she put the entirety of the blame on that (city) hospital, and then made a really racist remark about the people who work there. I didn't catch the meaning at first because generally people don't say derogatory stuff about brown people TO a brown person these days, so I'd only ever heard that particular turn of phrase on TV. And I certainly never would have heard it in real life if she was talking to me in person.

So it didn't sink in until she added, "And you know what I mean."

I WANTED to say, "No, I don't, you racist beeyatch. Just WTF DO you mean?" But she was already on to the next complaint. And I am a professional. After about 20 minutes of gentle explanation I had helped her with her problems. Unfortunately it usually takes me that long to think of a comeback.

I'm still a little rattled. Is this what people believe deep in their hearts but know not to say? I keep thinking about CC and how people can't necessarily tell what her heritage is, so she hears stuff I wouldn't when I'm out of the room. From people we know. People we thought we knew.

So, yeah, like I told those people, this stuff is out there. Every day. I just hope that people let go of it before my future children have to deal with it. Maybe, if these statistics are foretelling the truth, they won't have to for very long.


****UPDATE****

I saw that patient's name on the list today, and I made sure I would be in the vicinity when she showed up. In fact, I got myself involved in her situation so she would hear my voice, see my name and also *see* me. She was a meek-looking little woman who snapped up information and held it like a bear trap, not willing to listen to reason. Obviously someone along the like was trying to get her off the phone and said a generic answer (that doesn't apply to her specific case) and she was proclaiming it as law. The lady nearly turned the whole place upside-down with her arguing and inability to accept what four of us (all from different departments) were trying to explain.

And later when I called to make sure the disc situation was straightened out, the girl remembered getting reamed out by this patient a few months ago so she triple-checked that the lady's stuff was correct. Obviously this woman has issues. She told the technologist that the "reason she is the way she is" (unapologetically) is that her daughter-in-law died unexpectedly "because she fell through the cracks" of the healthcare system, so she wants to be sure no one she loves will experience the same thing, including herself. And that is a tragedy. I wholeheartedly agree that patients should take the initiative to understand and speak up about their/their family's care. But at some point, you have to step back and trust that the professionals--who have been highly trained--will do their jobs.

She's coming back to pick up her films tomorrow. Great.

on the telephone

Often when my brother calls me, he doesn't really talk. He will ask what I'm doing and then has nothing to add. I'll follow up with 14 questions, to which he will have essentially the same answer: "Not much." Then I will start telling random stories, wondering if he is watching TV instead of listening. Sometimes I think he's been so conditioned to my rambling all these years that the white noise of it is sometimes soothing. Then I tire of hearing myself speak and let him go.

A few months ago, he called while we were watching the Dexter finale. If any of you have seen the show, you know that a WHOLE LOT OF CRAZY always happens, especially during the last episode. I let the call go to voicemail to call him back after I had calmed down (I'm always terrified on behalf of the hero). I figured that because my brother was in Houston for work, he must have scored tickets to the Rockets and was calling to tell me.

When I called back, I found out that my brother was in the Emergency Room. Remember that spurting blood thing he had going on with his leg? He already had surgery to fix it, but the problem had re-started at the ankle. It started spewing after he took a shower, and thankfully a coworker staying at the same hotel brought him to the hospital.

At this point, I started losing it. What kind of horrible person chooses to watch TV over answering the phone when her baby brother is bleeding profusely in some strange hospital a thousand miles away? Jon was trying to convince me that I am not a horrible person, but it still felt like it. I tried to be calm, because if I freaked out audibly, my brother would regret even telling me about it. He forbade me from telling my parents under the threat that he will never let me know what's happening again, and assured that he was fine. He was going to make an appointment with the doctor who did his other vein surgery when he got back to Mobile.

My brother's new phone thing is when I ask him a question he claims a) he's already told me the answer, b) I never pay attention/remember/listen c) that he won't repeat himself. And then he says I'm just like dad (no offense, dad, you're great). No one on Earth can get under my skin as much as this boy. And he takes sadistic pleasure in driving me batty.

So I never could determine if he had met with the surgeon again or if there was an upcoming procedure. He didn't want to tell mom, and he kept saying he'd already answered that question. I fired back that he's certainly not important enough that people take notes every time he speaks, and anyone who thinks so is on drugs. He said he'd tell mom I think she's on drugs and hung up.

Then he told mom that he was having ankle-vein surgery. The next day. And when she found out I had known about this whole situation, she was upset. For obvious reasons.

I think part of the reason my brother moved so far away is because my parents and I are consistently hovering over his eating, sleeping, partying and medicine-taking habits. It's selfish, really. We have grown fond of the little brat and would like to have him around for another 50 years or so. But my brother was taught at a very young age to live in the moment. If he wants to go to a bar and do shots with his buddies, that's what he's going to do, no matter how many cardiologists recommend against it. It makes my parents absolutely crazy with worry. But that stubborn part of his personality is likely what has helped him stay alive.

My mom got over her anger. We'd rather someone know what's going on with the kid than all three of us to be in the dark. But we spent the day of his procedure feeling a little out of sorts. We weren't there. We didn't know what has happening, hell, we didn't even understand exactly what they were doing to him. It's a blessing his roommate took the day off work to take him home and watch over him. That Mark is a good guy.


Shortly after he woke up and was able to keep graham crackers down, the phone calls began. The only upside to surgeries is the absolute hilarity of talking to my brother when he is on powerful drugs. The usual phone habits are out the window, and he's downright chatty. Unfortunately, he's also saying all kinds of brazen and ridiculous things, such as proclaiming to be able to take down a male nurse five times his size in a fistfight, or demanding an explanation from his heart surgeon as to why such a rich doctor drives a Ford Taurus. Who knows what he had said to the hospital staff this time. He called me at work about a dozen times. Later, I relayed a few tidbits of what he had been saying, and the response was, "Oh no. OH NO." It wasn't too embarrassing, but it was entertaining. But it's nice to know that--even while he was high as a kite and not making a lot of sense--he still wanted to talk to me.

Digging out

It only (ONLY) took 3-4 hours to get the driveway passable. And the whole time I wanted to throw the shovel down and jump up on that size-of-a-house mound with the neighbor kids.



-- Posted From My iPhone--everybody needs an editor.

that poughkeepsie church is right: whoever is praying for snow, please stop

For as long as I can remember, whenever it snows my dad never fails to bring up 1979. As in "Oh, well this is NOTHING compared to '79." Or  "I was the only one on Ogden Avenue in '79. There was so much snow, you can't even imagine it!" Or "We got stuck in a drift and I didn't have something in the car, so I had to dig out that big Oldsmobile (Delta '88) out WITH MY BARE HANDS." Or "You were just a baby in the carseat, you didn't know what was happening." And "Yep, this is nothing like '79."

The newscasters say today's snowfall beat '79 by several inches. I am so glad that I can finally have something that will trump that. But I think '79 is so etched in my parents' memory because they had only recently experienced snow for the first time in general, let alone a blizzard. Nothing will probably top that one for them. But this is a doozy.

The hospital had warned us to "come prepared to stay," so yesterday morning I had a bag full of overnight stuff, books and snacks. Because of my old career, I get sort of excited whenever disaster looms, so I had been looking forward to hunkering down with books, granola bars and first-aid kits to be useful during an emergency at work. So when I was sent home at 3 p.m.--before the snow REALLY started to come down--it was disappointing. They told me to be back there by 7 a.m. to relieve the people who had stayed.

By 9 p.m., the workplace was on lockdown and leaving was a terminable offense. By midnight, they had shut down the city and by 3 a.m., no plows were even allowed on the road. My coworkers called at 6 a.m. and said not to come in but stay in touch. They are preparing to stay another night. HOWEVER, PATIENTS ARE STILL COMING IN FOR THEIR TESTS! There must be a lot more snowmobiles around these parts than I thought. 

So I am at my parents' house. My mom is actually battling the flu, so it's a plus that she can rest, because no one is allowed to call off on days like this (if we were able to come in). Jon and I talked on Skype for two hours as the snow was building and building. He has set up a time-lapse video of the balcony. But because my parents live in a loop, the effects are much more dramatic here. There's about four feet of snow piled up in front of our front door, and the drifts are up a quarter of the way past my sedan's windows.

Work called again, and some crazies I work with are trying to make their way there. The police have announced that if you go out in this, you are essentially on your own. And if you get stuck, you will get a ticket. Godspeed, my friends. 

This is the shot out the front door. We'd try to get out through the garage, but there's about that much snow in front of it, too--we know because the wind has forced in a good pile under the garage door.

p.s. Here is the link to the NYTimes photo of First Baptist Church's sign in Poughkeepsie, NY

from now on, Jon is in charge of letting people in

Since sometime over the weekend, the outside security door (the one allowing anyone from the foyer-area to enter the building) in our 1960's apartment building has been stuck on buzz-to-let-someone-in mode. I mean constantly. As if someone was standing at his front door just holding it down or some blasted kids (and they're around, sticking their gum to the lobby wall en masse this summer) taped it down. Jon and I walked in shaking our heads. I am paranoid in general, making sure the apartment door is always double locked even when just going to get the laundry and that the chain is on when everyone is home. I was pretty irritated by this breach in security because that meant the lock, deadbolt and chain were all that separated us from all the serial killers prowling around suburbia.

Today there was a sign posted from the management company saying several people have complained about the door and there is nothing wrong with the system, except that the buzzer in somebody's unit is stuck in the down position. It asked that we all check our units to make sure it's not ours.

I went upstairs, took off my coat, put my purse on the ottoman and hung up my keys. Then I looked at our personal intercom, with its set of TALK, LISTEN and DOOR buttons that have been so well-used that the raised, once-gilded letters are worn in the center and barely legible. I gasped. DOOR was jammed under the edge of the intercom frame opening. Free-for-all entrance to our building since Sunday and it was all my fault! In my haste to let my parents enter, I didn't notice that the button hadn't popped back out after I held it down. And I hadn't thought to look earlier, because, duh, I could never be that stupid. Just to be sure, I walked all the way downstairs. The buzzer was a-buzz no longer.

There is certainly some bad karma coming my way. Because for nearly three days, I was cursing the doofus who doesn't understand how an intercom system works and put all of us at risk for intruders.

Holy crap, it's 2011.

On the First of January I was talking to highcon, explaining how this year I'm not worrying about what other people are thinking, obsessing over whether I've offended somebody or being paranoid when it comes to saying the right thing at the perfect moment. Especially this year, when we have to make a lot of decisions that others will likely criticize. And as someone who is constantly trying to control things that are completely out of her control, this is a problem whether or not nuptials are on the horizon. Generally, I'm not big on resolutions, but this is something I really should work on. I was feeling pretty confident about sticking to it.

Highcon listened patiently. Then he said he wished he had a recorder to capture all the promises people have been making to play back for them later.

As a backup, I'm going with the safe bet held by nearly everyone out there: Exercise.

it's not her, it's us

One of the things people have been saying to me about this whole wedding-planning thing is, Only nine months to go? Girl, you'd better lock down a photographer before all the best ones are taken! We took this seriously, because if there's one thing that we're not skimping on, it's the photography.

Last year I went with my mom to her coworker's baby shower. It was at this very expansive, luxurious home in a swanky neighborhood. And it was lovely. During the party, a sweet-looking woman came in with a big gift bag and a camera, and suddenly she was in tears. As she dabbed at her eyes, she kept saying, "It's just so beautiful to have come full circle! I shot their wedding, and now here I am to see that they're having a baby!" It was so emotional. I couldn't help but think, Wow, this photographer is really invested.

So when we started looking for photographers, I immediately thought of that woman. I asked my mom to get her info, took one look at her stuff and really identified with her style and eye for composing shots. Jon looked at her Web site and completely agreed. It was awesome that we were both so definitively on board. She was not booked for our date, so we set up a meeting with her last Saturday, just as the snowstorm was starting to come down.

She invited us to her condo in the city (on a weird side note, it was the same building I had to gone to see with Ri when she was looking to buy). It was similar in size to our old place, and cozy too. She offered us some pastries from the Greek bakery I used to go to in the city all the time--and one of them was my favorite, apricot, which you don't see every day. I was noting these small *signs* as we talked.

We were there for a little more than two hours. She explained that it's not just us deciding on whether we want to book her, but she has turned clients down because she'll "spend a lot of time staring at our faces," so she has to get a good vibe from us, too. Later on, Jon and I admitted we spent most of the meeting wondering if she was going to want to work with us or not. She showed us how much attention to detail she gives and how she personally edits every single shot herself. Then she showed us the albums and we especially liked the way one of them was done. We were sold, but tried to play it cool.

For the question-and-answer portion of the evening, she explained that she does do a lot of Indian weddings, but for this past year there was a majority of destination weddings. Of course, Jon commented on her fancy computer and she said she gets the fastest there is out there because her time is money and why wait for all those high-res images to upload when you can upgrade? We agreed wholeheartedly.

I did attempt to pitch a barter-for-upgrade idea, but as soon as it came out of my mouth, I realized that this particular method only works when both parties are familiar with the quality of the other's work. She politely declined. And then we started talking about the money. Jon and I really wanted this woman to work with us. But we are on a budget. She mentioned that some couples just sign up for the lowest package to secure the date and upgrade later. YES. And upgrade I'm sure we would.

She hugged us both and said she'd love to work with us. We headed out into the storm with a box containing the rest of the apricot pastry and the security that we'd found the photographer we'd always wanted. On the first try! And trying to figure out how we could come up with more money to upgrade to a nicer package.

We discussed it and emailed her around 7 p.m. the next day. As soon as I hit "send," Jon and I actually high-fived. We got one of our big goals accomplished!

But when I opened my email this morning, I had a message from the photographer.

It was really great meeting you both.  I'm afraid I have some bad news.  I had a proposal that was sent over 3 weeks ago for another couple for your wedding date.  I didn't think they were going to book because I haven't heard from them.  Oh course since I haven't heard from them and since the proposal was never signed, I still continued to meet with you both.  Just this afternoon they signed their proposal.  If I can help you both with finding another photographer, please, let me know and I'll be more than happy to send a few your way.  It was really nice meeting you both and good luck with the rest of your wedding planning.  

At the end of the day--and it really doesn't matter why--we're not getting this photographer. Maybe she actually didn't want to look at our faces for weeks after the wedding but wanted to let us down easy. Maybe the other people signed up for the bigger package right off the bat and it simply came down to the guaranteed amount of money. I can't blame her for that. It's just business. But when business is about one of the most important days of your life, it's hard not to take personally.

and for that, you're getting a bestselling thriller in your stocking

"Did you know there's a new book out about the '85 Bears?"

"Hold up a second: Are you suggesting that I get you A BOOK for Christmas?!?*"

"No, I already bought it."

"Um, what kind of guy shops for himself right before the holidays?"

"This guy. If I want it, I buy it."

"You dork."



*As much as I don't like owning books, I love to give them. And my brother claims not to read, which is why it frustrates him when I keep giving him books. Yet somehow he's intimately familiar with the contents of certain sports books--many of which he has received as gifts. From me.

he told me to meet him directly at the mall

Tomorrow my brother is flying in, and I actually have a day off! I'm really looking forward to it, because I haven't gotten to see him much the last couple times he was home. And I'm hoping he will help me with my holiday shopping.

I told him they're predicting 4-8" of snow, but I don't think he took that text very seriously. Watch him show up without any warm clothes.

tomorrow, it's december

I kid you not, people, I often stop myself in mid-date-writing to say HOLY CANNOLI, SELF, IT'S ALMOST [insert something that I thought was way off but is right upon us, such as DECEMBER]!!

So all day I was in a tizzy. Because I have to deal with a lot of dates in my job.

But this also means that we've completed yet another NaBloPoMo November! Hooray! Congratulations to Syar, Madelyn, Cofo and Jon, as well as the readers and commenters, without whom this kind of endeavor wouldn't be fun at all.

The thing is, this past month I didn't really *feel* like I was producing much in the way of quality. I know time is lacking, but I think I could get back to what I think were better posting if I keep at it. So I'm going to try not to slip into the abyss of non-posting that was consuming me before. Let's see how long that lasts.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! As any blogger will tell you, it's the attention that really keeps it going. MUAH!!!

can't get you out of my head

I am persistently troubled with things being stuck in my head. But worst, by far, are the songs. In fact, at my first job, a coworker and I had a contest over which of us could get a song stuck in the other's head without actually singing it. And as much as I dominated that game, it got a little close at times.

I heard somewhere that if you have a song stuck in your head, doing a little quick mental math can boot it right out. And that probably works, but I have such little patience for arithmetic that I often give up on it before I get too far. So said annoying song remains intact.

But today I was listening to a radio interview with Amy Sedaris, who is famous for her books, her comedy, her sibling, David and her show with Stephen Colbert--Strangers With Candy. She said that Colbert once told her that the best way to get a song out of your head is to think of that old SpeedStick deodorant brand-recognition jingle-ender, "By Mennen!"

They had so many commercials back in the day:


For the ladies:


And even En Espanol:


It really works!

two young kids in love

Last night, Jon and I shot the wedding of the daughter of one of my work friends. It was intimate and beautiful, and we were very happy to be there. Out of the 1500 we took, here is one of the shots I especially liked:

Heather and Glenn, November 27, 2010

Photo by Jonathan Muller

tradition, modified

For years, my high school friends gathered at an all-night diner every Thanksgiving night after all the turkey was put away into Tupperware and all the parents had gone to bed. Around midnight. The last few turkey days, however, the tradition has fallen by the wayside due to excessive age + tryptophan. So around 9 p.m. the text messages would start with apologies about it being late and various members of the group being tired.

This year was much the same, so we decided to cancel. I set up in the middle of the floor with this bridesmaid dress I was taking up for a friend, sort of freaking out because when I was pinning it on the person I was unaware there was a slight train on the back. Then my phone buzzed.

MFM was sitting at the diner wondering where everybody was. She had originally said she couldn't make it, but then decided to sneak out and hang with us. So I changed out of my pajamas and headed out there.

It was a much-needed break. I had been agonizing over whether to cut the dress or somehow pleat the hem on the underside. I couldn't bring myself to snip it. But MFM tiptoed into the house with me and gave me the encouragement to make the cut. And everything was great. The dress looked awesome when we shot the wedding today, and my friend was happy.

Of course, Highcon is only in town for the weekend, so a few of us got together at a bar after the wedding. It's not the same as Thanksgiving, but it's always great to see them.

That's what lack of sleep'll do to ya

So last night I got two hours of sleep. And not because I was up trying to get any nonsensical Black Friday Deals, either. Remember that time my brother and I camped outside of Best Buy all night in the freezing weather for a tv my dad made us return? Yeah, we're not doing that again.

Last night I was furiously trying to alter a bridesmaid dress a coworker has to wear for her daughter's wedding tomorrow (she's both Mother Of The Bride as well as Matron Of Honor). Only after I had it all pinned equidistant from the floor did I realize there was a small train on the dress, which is why it wasn't even no matter how many times I'd repin it. I took a break to meet MFM at an all-night diner at midnight and resumed when I got back. I abut to go to bed at 8:30 am when my coworker called to see if I could come in early. Yeah, that wasn't happening.

I guess the dress came out well bc the coworker tried it on with the shoes and it looked amazing on her. Phew!!! All that paranoia was draining.

But now I'm so tired I can barely think. I almost got rejected for a Best Buy card tonight because I confused some numbers between my telephone number and my social security number.

I just don't have it in me for these almost-all-nighters anymore.

-- Posted From My iPhone--everybody needs an editor.

the laundry room is empty!

I'm so thankful that I have the whole day to spend with Jon, doing laundry and basting a turkey before the folks come over. And it's not even the weekend!

I am also thankful for you, and you, and you, and you, and YOU.

Be safe, and tell the people you love how you feel about them.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

rockstar--rocking that Prius

So I went to a newer branch of my bank the other day, and to my surprise, next to the spaces allotted for the disabled, there were a few other very close specifically designated spots:

 See? We're talking about right up next to the door.

It says, "Reserved for Low Emitting/Fuel Efficient Vehicles."

Am I the only one who hasn't seen this before? 

P.S. If you're traveling for the holiday, please be careful.

cruisin' down the street in my six fo'

"Isn't it weird that some 80% of songs are about love?"

"Not really; everybody wants it."

"Yeah I guess you're right."

"That's why they're always writing songs about b*tches and hoes."

"Um, what?"

" 'Cuz they're in love. Sigh."


-- Posted From My iPhone--everybody needs an editor.

move over, martha stewart

Jon's sister, M (not to be confused with Madelyn--he has three sisters), sent us a package filled with beautiful handcrafted items as an inspiration for the wedding. She makes all sorts of awesome stuff all the time, and we are so glad she's going to be helping us. Aren't these cute?

and don't text and drive. think about the people who love you.

Today I went to pp's house to relive the glory days of college when we'd totally miss the sun during the winter b/c we'd be up all night and sleep all day. And when we were up, we'd lounge on the couch watching movies. She made a delicious breakfast, and we settled in to watch Remember the Titans. I can't believe I hadn't seen it before!

pp lives in the citay, so I tore myself off her comfy couch and headed home. I had tried a new route on the way in and it got me there on time, so I thought I'd try another new route on the way home. BIG MISTAKE. Turns out 94W goes pretty much north for a good bit and then I was on it for awhile and started secondguessing myself. So I turned around and started driving again. And then I secondguessed THAT and got totally confused somewhere around Skokie, IL. And then there was traffic. Where the heck is everyone going at 4pm on a Sunday?!?

I finally got myself home around two hours after I'd left. I know pp would just be shaking her head reading this, so let me just say I'm shaking my head in disgust myself. And guess what? It was dark. But I found my way. At least I further developed my Lata Mangeshkar/Kishore Kumar station on Pandora and sang my heart out during the times when I thought I knew where I was going. I haven't been able to car-sing in a long time since my commute is like ten minutes.

And while I was trying to get the map on my phone to actually point me in the right direction, I realized that it wasn't really safe to do that unless I was pulled over or at least at a light. Which brings me to today's point: November 21 is World Day of Remembrance for Road Traffic Victims (via Guyana Gyal).

It would have been nice to save five minutes by not exiting to figure out where the HECK I was going, but not nearly as nice as it will be to walk down the aisle, have a family and see my momma smile. There are enough idiots out there on the road that if we let our guards down for a second, it could prove very costly.