Memoirs Of J

A few days ago I was in a big meeting, auditorium sized.  I didn’t know most of the people there, though I’d seen a lot of them around.  There’s one guy that I have seen around a couple of times – I think in the elevator then again in this meeting, and I was scared shitless.  Here’s why.

Creep looks like a serial killer.  He’s an older guy, maybe 45 or so – short in stature, and speaks with a very soft, quiet voice if at all.  He’s as white as flour with thinning gray stringy hair slicked straight back, yet you can see his bald patch shining through.  His skin is overly blotchy – maybe rosacea – and it looks kind of like he’s wearing bright pink blush on his cheeks.  His breath is atrocious, smelling sort of like fresh shit-brewed swamp coffee with a few teaspoons of sulfur and liquid smoke added.

You may be wondering how I know what his breath smells like if I’ve only seen him on occasion.  Well, I’ll tell you.  He practically spoons you in the elevator.  It’s disgusting.  If you do manage to stand in a far corner against the wall his eyes are just blankly fixated on you, which of course causes a bit of mental discomfort.  Seriously, most of the time when you catch someone staring at you  they’ll either smile politely and maybe even say something, or they’ll quickly avert their gaze.  Not creep!  No, he creepily stays fixated with his entire face motionless, blank.  God, it’s so weird.

And to top it off, I happened to see him sitting in this meeting and he had his fucking legs crossed daintily.  Ugh, I’m shuddering at the image.  I hate when guys cross their legs.  It makes me wonder if they’ve got their package tucked up there like that guy in Silence of the Lambs.

Here, I drew this in Paint so you can get some idea of the creepiness.  Forgive my artistic talents 🙂

scary person

I love traveling.  I’d even go as far to say that it is in my top 3 list of favorite things in life.  So when we were able to arrange for time off, a sitter for J and the dogs, and plan a week-long trip, I was ecstatic.

We’d been interested for a couple of years in going to Utah and vicinity to explore the plethora of national parks an monuments, so it was an easy decision on where to go and generally what to do.  We decided to fly out to Vegas, rent a car, and play it by ear from there with the idea of ending up back in Vegas for our departure flight.  Vegas was quite a bit cheaper than SLC as far as flights go, plus it is much closer to the parks we really wanted to hit, like Zion, Bryce, Arches, etc.

I of course was a little apprehensive of flying because I hate it (see previous blog entry) but it was necessary so that we could maximize our time out west,  avoiding the long and boring drive out.  On the ‘pro’ side of flying instead of road-tripping it, it was nice knowing that we wouldn’t have to put thousands of extra miles on our own car.

Fortunately, we didn’t have any major incidents on this trip like a car accident or an injury, for example.  However, there were a couple of minor annoyances and unintended adventures that will be fun to share.

First, we reserved a Jeep Compass 4×4 from Alamo at LAS airport.  When we arrived to pick it up, we were shocked to find out that there is a 30% tax rate inside the airport, so we owed almost $100 just for tax.  That was crap, so the lesson here is next time take a  cab to the nearest off-airport rental agency to avoid the obscene tax rate.

The next unexpected event was when we tried to find the Hopenweave Indian monument.  The signage was inadequate at best.  We sort of randomly drove towards where we thought it was while Posh (our GPS) remained confused,  shouting “when possible, make a U-turn,” or “recalculating, recalculating.”

We eventually happened upon the main sight which was some pretty extensive Pueblo dwelling ruins.  I thought they were amazing, excitingly signing us into the guest log book.  The pamphlet we picked up at the Pueblo dwellings indicated there were more ruins around, as well as a visitor’s center.  So we started driving towards… something, assuming there would be signs.

Somehow, we eventually ended up driving on dirt roads way out in the middle of nowhere, and even more inexplicably we actually located a couple of the trailheads which were not marked at all.  It was worth the adventure though because there was literally nobody else there.  No signs of other visitors, cars, anything.  Well, except for the suspicious looking animal tracks in a dried up puddle on the trail that may have belonged to a mountain lion.  Oh, and the hundreds of fast-moving lizards running around the rocks.  The ruins we found were great.  We got to walk right up to them and inside them, exploring the area that was inhabited by Pueblos and Anasazi a thousand years ago.

Here’s where we ran into a snag though.  After we finished our hiking and exploring, our plan was to take the road running through the middle of the park out, and head to Mesa Verde in Arizona.  Well, we drove here and there searching  for this road that was clearly depicted on our brand new 2010 road atlas.  After probably an hour of serious off-roading (good thing we had a jeep 4×4 or we wouldn’t have made it out), we thought we were on the right path.  We were heading in the right direction, almost to where we thought we needed to be, then bam!  The “road” ends at a boulder with nowhere to go and no way around!  Posh was of no help.  So we relented and had to turn around and go all the way back through the off-roading trails, and up and around the main roads in which we initially entered.  This was a killer time waster.

By the time we actually reached Mesa Verde it was almost dark.  We didn’t have time to see any of the ruins because most of them are ranger led hikes that you need a permit for.  We drove around and snapped a few pictures of the sunset, then headed out with a tentative plan of returning the following day since I was very interested in exploring these ruins.  Unfortunately, the night before we had reserved a hotel room in a town about an hour away from Mesa Verde thinking we would have been finished with M.V. earlier and heading out to the next destination.

We regrettably decided that night that it was just too far to backtrack to M.V. before continuing on to the Grand Canyon.   Disappointed by having to give up M.V., I told myself that we’ll get to it someday and made a hotel reservation for the next town following Grand Canyon on our way back to Vegas- Kanab, UT.

Being the only moderately sized town between Grand Canyon and the major Utah parks and a weekend night, most of the hotels were sold out according to Orbitz.  I would normally search for a hotel’s website and book directly, but used Orbitz this time instead because it lists all the hotels available and the rates, so it is easy to compare and pick a place not knowing the area at all.

There were a couple of hotels with availability.  Both were about the same rate, around $100 for the night.  I think one was a Comfort Inn, and the other was a place called the Victorian Inn.  The reviews for Victorian were great, and it looked like a really nice place with a jacuzzi and fireplace in the room.  So I selected Victorian over the chain hotel, and went to bed relieved to be all set for the next evening.

On the way to Grand Canyon the next morning, we made a stop at Four Corners just to say we’ve done it.  It was sort of a waste of time, but I guess it’s something to check off the list at least.  Then we continued on our way to the amazing Grand Canyon.  We explored the South Rim briefly (having been there once before) before embarking on the 3-4 hour drive to the North Rim (which we have never seen before).

The North Rim was stunning.  It is much prettier and scenic than the South Rim, being surrounded by Kaibab forest with more spectacular views of the canyon in general.  We walked the North Rim trails just before sunset, inhaling the clean pine-scented air.  It was peacefully silent without very few other visitors milling about.  Sparrows were flying about overhead and you could actually hear them buzz by.  I could have stayed there for hours enjoying the surroundings.

We wanted to head out before dark though, so hiked back to the car with the intent of driving through the rest of the overlooks at the park before leaving for Kanab.  We successfully made it to and viewed all of the overlooks in the park despite the fact that our gas gauge was on E!  Fortunately there was a fuel station inside the park near the visitor’s center or else we wouldn’t have made it out!

After gassing up, we made the long drive away from the North Rim and finally arrived in Kanab.  When we got to the hotel, the attendant was on the phone dealing with an issue so we stood there for several minutes looking around.  The place was very nice and we were exhausted and tired.  When the attendant hung up, I said we had a reservation.  He sighed and said that their “3rd party overbooked them” and that they did not have a room for us!

I was definitely a bit distressed and annoyed knowing that it was such a small town on a weekend hours away from the next town – what would we do now?  What’s the point of making a reservation if they are not going to honor it?  The attendant said he knew of a couple of places in town that still had a few rooms left.  We ended up taking the “cheap” place – a Roadway Inn.  This place sucked and it still ran us almost $100!  They offered us a discount because the A/C in the room  was broken.  We were very disappointed.  C wanted to leave Kanab altogether and hated the hotel and how much they charged.  Their breakfast was pathetic, which normally I guess who cares – you just eat a bagel or bowl of cereal or whatever and be on your way.  But the thing is we saw the breakfast area for Victorian, where we were supposed to be staying, and it was a much nicer spread including hot selections of fresh food.  Roadway offered cereal and Sunny D.

C thinks that it is the hotel that overbooked and they just blame it on the 3rd party (Orbitz), which I think I agree with.  They probably sell their vacancies to walk-ins despite having a log of reservations who have just not checked in yet.  Then the hotel told me that they couldn’t refund my prepayment and I’d have to get Orbitz to credit my card.

So irritating…

But hey, it all makes for little adventures and stories so I am not complaining at all.  🙂

I hate flying.  Most of the time when people say that, you assume they are afraid of crashing or terrorism or something.  While I will admit that this is always in the far back corner of my mind, that’s not ultimately why I hate flying.

I’ve given this quite a bit of thought.  Why do I hate flying so much?  Why does it cause me so much anxiety, frustration, annoyance, and dread?  I juggled around a few ideas as being the root cause.  One obvious cause might be aversion to being tightly tucked into a seat the size of a matchbox, sandwiched between a window greasy with a former passenger’s zit pus and an obese person whose leg rolls migrate under the arm rest (toothpick) right into your lap.  I swear sometimes I feel there’s a chance of being accidentally impregnated by some plump stranger just by being in an airplane.

Another reason to hate flying might be hassles of both security and check-in / bag check, waiting in eternal lines only to eventually get the pleasure of interacting with asshole or bitch employees who’ll do anything to condescendingly let it be known that you are a huge inconvenience.

While claustrophobia and interacting with assholes in general are both very tempting conclusions to my dilemma, I decided that neither is the worst part of the air transit experience.  Instead, while sitting on the tarmac waiting to disembark earlier this week it occurred to me that I hate flying because of other passengers!  Passengers who may very well be fine outside of an airplane, but once placed inside the flying tin can, watch out – they turn into inconsiderate, invasive, disgusting bastards!

Never mind the sandwiching between fat people for a second.  It actually gets worse.  For example, on my most recent flight there was a passenger seated directly behind me chomping, popping, and slurping on a huge moist wad of gum (or cud,  more likely).  Mental invasion (being subjected to four hours of listening to gum smacking) is far worse than physical invasion (someone’s cellulite touching you).

obnoxious gum bitch

On this same flight, there was another passenger located SEVERAL rows back from where I was seated, yet I could hear her as though she were screaming into my ear with a bullhorn.  I guess the person she was talking to could have either been located in the baggage hold, or else completely deaf.  If neither situation applies, well then she was just too damn loud.  I think it must be some sort of narcissistic complex that makes people behave this way, thinking everyone else within a mile radius is interested in what they have to say.

oblivious, inconsiderate, eardrum-piercing bitch

So there you have it.  I strongly prefer travel by auto if at all possible or practical.

We’re home!  I’m planning on writing a couple of posts about our trip out west soon (probably this weekend).  The bottom line is we had an amazing time in Utah, Colorado, Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico.

I’m still not quite settled back into the normal, mundane routines.  I always hate that rush to unpack, do laundry, go grocery shopping, and all those other tasks that go along with returning home after being away for awhile.  Plus, it didn’t help coming home after being on another time zone for a week.  We arrived home late Monday night, so I took Tuesday off to recover and pick up J.

Then today (Wednesday) arrived and I (ugh) had to return to work.  So not only was I jet lagged from the time zone difference, J decided to scream bloody murder most of the night last night.  She just wanted to be held, so I rocked and calmed her, laid her back down, then went through countless iterations of the same as she kept waking back up distressed.

Yeah, and somehow I ended up shutting off my alarm this morning so I didn’t actually get up until 7am (the time I intended on being AT work 45 minutes away), and that was only thanks to C who shook me and told me what time it was!

Needless to say, I had a very drowsy and rushed day.

It may be a few days before I can resume my regular posting!

While driving home from Lowe’s this afternoon (had to get a few keys copied), I encountered (or should I say, was encountered by) some twat in a black Cadillac.

I was approaching the intersection of Willoughby and Aurelius.  There was a car in the intersection waiting to turn left.  The light changed to red and the car did not go – he just sort of sat there almost in the way of cross traffic.  The ass in the black Caddy rolls up behind me (remember, the light is red by now) honking his horn and waving his arms frantically about.  I didn’t give too much thought to it at this point – I was a little amused and just thought “what an impatient asshole” before putting my focus back on the light,  waiting for it to change.

A minute or two later, the light changed to green and the left-turning guy finally went.  I proceeded through the intersection, entering a residential area in which the speed limit is 35mph.  And I obey the limits here because I’ve been pulled over in this area more times that I’d want to admit!

So how do you think black-caddy reacted to being stuck behind someone going the snail’s pace of 35?  Not great.  He rode my ass through the entire no passing zone.  Since I hate tailgaters, I deliberately checked my speed to make sure I was not going even the slightest bit over the limit.  I was, so I slowed down to precisely 35 and set my cruise.  Black-caddy asshole is again waving his arms at this point, undoubtedly mid-tantrum and swearing out loud.

I maintained my speed despite his impatience.  Don’t tailgaters realize that the act of tailgating usually pisses people off so they’ll slow down if anything?  No one is going to suddenly speed off because you are right on top of them.  When there finally was a passing zone, guess what?  There were several cars coming from the other direction so passing wasn’t possible.  B-C was, amusingly, flailing his arms and possibly even pounding on his steering wheel.

I decided to turn into the 2nd entrance of my neighborhood because I was afraid the guy might have some anger issues and try to follow me or something.  I don’t want some psycho seeing where I live (hey, you can never be too careful).  I quickly learned, however, that B-C wasn’t going to follow me.  No, instead he turned into the church right across the street from our neighborhood!

So this aggressive, no-patience f*ck was driving in an outraged fury to get to church?  Wow, is that what Jesus would have done?

It’s so weird and surreal having a kid.  I just keep staring at J trying to discern if she looks like me at all and in what way.  Sometimes I think  she does a little, mostly in the shape of her eyes maybe.  She definitely looks more like C at first glance though.

It’s so fun watching her.  She dances whenever she hears music,  even if it is just a commercial on tv or something.  But dancing for her basically means running in place!  She’s always making funny facial expressions too, especially expressions using her eyebrows.  She raises them in all kinds of situations, like when she sees something new, she’s eating a food she likes, she’s trying to talk or make a point, just a lot of different things.

She’s almost always smiling and acting goofy, giggling.  She just started saying uh oh (in the proper context) – it’s her favorite word.  She likes to toss her rubber ducks over the bathtub wall when she’s in there, exclaiming “uh oh!” while smiling at me.  She also likes saying dada, daddy, mama, kitty, elmo, and duck.  Mostly she just babbles, but she obviously thinks she is making a point because she emphasizes words (well…sounds) and makes hand gestures.

One of my favorite things she’s been doing lately is how she acts when she thinks she is going to get to watch Sesame Street.  I’ll ask her if she wants to watch Sesame Street and she runs to the tv squealing, arms in the air.  As I navigate through the tivo menu to find the program (we record them so we always have some saved), she stands there bouncing up and down in anticipation with this huge grin on her face.  As soon as I hit play and Murray comes on, she squeals more while dancing around the room before glancing at me with the biggest smile ever.  Then she takes a seat on the floor with her arm wrapped around her Elmo doll, thumb in mouth.  When parts she really likes come on (songs, anything with Elmo), she turns to me, laughing.  It’s so freaking cute.   I love that kid!  🙂

After reading a fitness article in a magazine a couple of weeks ago, I learned that you’re supposed to walk 10,000 steps each day.  So out of curiosity I went on amazon and bought a nice pedometer so I could keep track of my steps.  I was a little afraid of what I would discover since I am a cube jockey and pretty much sit on my ass watching my thighs expand all day long.

I started monitoring my steps on Monday.  I was pleasantly surprised for the first few days, clocking in  an average of about 6,500 steps.  Not quite enough, but not too embarrassingly low.  But then Thursday and Friday rolled around…

Ugh.

Thursday I clocked a whopping 1594 steps, and Friday even less!  Thursday was rainy, so I was unable to take a nice stroll on my break at work, and Friday… I don’t know.  I have no excuse – I just didn’t go out.  So now I feel like a blimp just because I know I walked 10% as much as I should have.  Of course I also neglected to do anything inside either, like the bike or some cardio boxing.

On my way home from Sparrow (downtown Lansing) this evening, a woman in a dumpy looking green dodge neon pulled up beside me at a traffic light on Penn Ave.  There were a couple of disheveled young kids in the backseat, and another woman in the passenger’s seat taking a drag of her cigarette.  The light changed to green and she pulled away, her gaudily bright silver rims glinting in the sun, nearly blinding me.

This isn’t an infrequent scenario.  You’d see this sort of thing a LOT if you drove through the ghetto areas of your town, and it just makes you shake your head in bewilderment.

What I want to know is how can so many presumably poor people, possibly on public assistance if I had to guess by the looks of them (seriously, let’s be real and not PC for a few minutes here – you can tell) afford to buy RIMS ?  Rims that are most likely more valuable than the car itself!  The average price for a set of rims is approximately $2000.  An older model dodge neon, for example, might run $2000 but probably less.

This is clearly an ignorant, selfish, frivolous, narcissistic, and un-wise financial decision being made by the very people who have no discretionary income (or any actual income of their own, for that matter) to speak of.

How in the hell does one possibly justify such a reckless waste of money that they don’t even have?  Seriously – I want to know.

Today, someone at work told me to have a relaxing vacation.  I laughed and said we are facing some pretty strenuous hikes – it will be far from relaxing.  Fun,  no doubt, but exhausting.  But it made me think – when am I ever actually relaxed?  I’ve venture to say never.

First, let me explain what I think it means to be relaxed.  To be truly relaxed takes more than just lazing about on the couch watching tv or surfing the web, which is what comes to mind for many people when they think of relaxing.  Relaxation is more mental than physical, that is, you can’t be relaxed lazing about if you are mentally disconcerted.  A good example is people who play golf to relax because golf, although physical with a fair amount of walking, clears the mind of the player.

So where am I on the spectrum?  Well, on the physical side of things I’m fairly relaxed.  Hey, I sit in a cube all day.  Not too challenging physically speaking…  I do have a nightly workout to endure after putting J to bed at night, all this after chasing her around all evening.  So while there are some physical demanding parts of my average day, it ultimately can’t be considered intense overall between the cube jockey job and sleeping.

On the mental side, however, it’s a different story.  I seem to find myself constantly worried, anxious, or even just mildly troubled by …something.  What this something is varies greatly – it may be a serious problem, or it may be something trivial like trying to remember that my pants need hemmed.  But regardless, it is always SOMETHING.

Admittedly for me, it’s about 80% trivial matters on my mind, but nevertheless it is enough to prevent true relaxation.  So the question was, when do I ever feel relaxed?  Unfortunately, I really don’t know…