May 24, 2005


With the long weekend approaching,I’m already planning on taking a long road trip on Saturday. I have visions of driving across the country and back, but honestly I don’t that can be accomplished on one day during Memorial Day weekend, what with the traffic and everything.

God bless Earl. He happily jumps into the passenger seat, ready to tackle our next road adventure. Since driving across the country is out of the question, we’ll probably tour around the Hudson Valley a little bit. Or maybe wine country along Lake Erie on the other end of the state. Perhaps both. We’ll have to see.

I love going for rides. Aside from my road geek interests, i just find riding in the car very comforting. I especially like riding in the car after dark during a new moon. The world seems to have a sinister edge to it, as we go about our business under a blanket of darkness. I find a certain sense of adventure.

When I was a kid, we would go for rides from time to time. Dad would often want to check out the progress of someone building a house or the remodeling of a camp or some other project his business was working on, so the four of us would pile into the ’71 Heavy Chevy (yeah my Dad was cool having a new muscle car and all), and later the ’78 Impala and go see what was going on. We’d occasionally go for a long ride that would take us elsewhere in the state. He once drove us to Delhi to show us where he went to college. Or we’d ride through the Finger Lakes. And once or twice a month we’d drive the 40 minutes from Grandma and Grandpas in Syracuse to our home on a Sunday night. I have very happy memories of my family from the back seat of the car. We didn’t play “Count The Cow” or get all breathless over “License Plate Bingo”, but rather we’d chat a little bit about whatever state the world was in, all accompanied to the sounds of 62 WHEN in the background, or whatever local AM radio station we could find. When we were all in the car, we were all together, spending time with each other. Dad wasn’t in the basement working on the airplane. Mom wasn’t doing her thing with the Eastern Star. Jennifer wasn’t at baton twirling lessons and I wasn’t building paths through the woods. No, we were all in the car, enjoying each other’s company, talking and if we were lucky, stopping at A&W or Carrols for a bite to eat.

As an adult, I would often go for rides alone. Whomever I was dating at the time wasn’t really that interested in checking out some far off nook or cranny elsewhere in the state, so I’d feed my loner tendencies and enjoy the trip alone. Then Earl came along, and well, like the rest of my life, that all changed. He gladly jumped in the passenger seat, gladly listened to radio and gladly talked about whatever state the world was in. That’s one of just many ways I knew my life changed when I met Earl.

Yeah, I’m really looking forward to going for a ride on Saturday.

Monday, Monday.

I find Mondays to be so interesting. I’m usually dog tired because I’ve screwed up my sleep patterns over the weekend, opting to stay up late and sleep in during the weekend. And where does the term “dog tired” come from anyways? It seems like it would be “cat tired”, as its cats that sleep 2/3 of the day.

But I digress.

This morning I was up at 6:00 a.m. to resume my walking. I briefly thought about sleeping in and just saying the hell with it, but I felt too guilty and too fat to just lie in bed and to resume my dream. They say guilt is a feeling from within. No one can make you feel guilty, you allow yourself to feel guilty.

I’m apparently very good at this.

So I hauled myself out of bed, threw some kibble in Tom’s bowl and hit the open road, where approximately four surly drivers, who undoubtedly were not happy it was Monday morning, aimed their big ass SUVs at me.

Tomorrow I’m selecting a different route.

When Earl and I were contemplating moving 18 months ago, I vowed that we would not move to a busy road again. Our old house was on a state route which was frequently traveled by large trucks, small cars and prisoners escaping the local prison. Walking on the road was not enjoyable, as the speed limit of 55 was all but ignored and no one in this area really is a good driver of any fashion. Except myself, of course.

So here we are on a county maintained route, which is curvier, not as wide and signed for a speed limit of 45. The speed limit is still ignored, the drivers still suck and to top it all off, we’re closer to the “suburbs” which means yuppies shaving and/or putting on makeup whilst driving to work. At least in the old house we were out in farm country where people rarely showered, let alone shaved and/or put on makeup.

Oh calm down, I’m exaggerating about the farm people. But you get my drift. I can see the e-mail now. “I’ve lived on a farm all my life and I am a clean, respectable human being.” I know, I know, and I probably find you sexy too, sweat and all.

Anyways, after my joyous walking experience I headed off to work which was rather pleasant. Everyone says “It’s Monday”. “Happy Monday.” I try to be as pleasant as possible, though I do feel like I’m nodding off because my sleeping pattern is getting back on track. I actually wake up around 11:06 a.m. “Wow! I’m at work!” Then I get productive.

Now that I think about it, Monday only differs from the rest of the week in that I jerk awake around 10:54 instead of 11:06.

But it’s all good. I try desperately not to look ahead to the upcoming weekend. It seems like it’s just looming on the horizon. For if you wish for nothing but the weekend, then you’re not enjoying your week. Then time flies by and before you know it, you’ve done nothing but wish time away.

I hope you everyone had a wonderful Monday.