Wow, sleep is a wonderful thing!  Four mornings, no 5am, no alarm.  Last week I made a small shift at work.  It isn’t a huge change, yet, it is.  The bottom line is that I have a new set of things to learn and while I’m digging the new challenges it means being in the office until I feel comfortable again.  I don’t know how Tammy does it, these 14 hour days are exhausting.  Enough of that though, this week is all about relaxing!  Tammy is making fresh bread and I’m getting to know my new guitar.

Last week I was dropping The Muffin off at work and noticed a section of pavement that had been worn away exposing the original brick paving stones beneath.  Roads are amazing pieces of engineering and a reflection of their creators collective will.  Their history and how they shape the people connected by them interests me. 

I don’t have a mechanical or materials engineering background so I won’t be nerding about slopes and drainage or anything like that.  Those are certainly interesting aspects of road building but the subject is just a little Fred Flintstone for me.  For the most part I’ve always taken roads for granted.  Until recently I never stopped to consider the vast amount of effort, money and resources that go into creating them.  In fact unless there was a pot hole I never had anything much to say on the subject.

The US Interstate Highway system is the largest highway system in the world and the largest public works project in history.  It’s made up of over 46 thousand miles of pavement.  The original project began in 1956 and completed in 1992 at a cost of $116 billion dollars (adjusted for inflation that’s $425 billion in 2006 dollars).  These are just the numbers from the initial project.  Our highway system continues to grow and change daily.

I-80 in Nebraska

The primary justification for having a national Interstate highway system is to give our military mobility.  Secondary to that was to provide evacuation routes in case of emergency, then to enable commerce, and finally as a system to generally get us from here to there.  So the next time you see that convoy of military vehicles chugging down I-5, be considerate, they are the original freeway commuter.

Did you catch that?  The reasons for this massive use of public funds was first Security, then Safety, then Commerce, and lastly Comfort.  That, in priority order, is why people band together and form governments. 

We want security in the form of things like the military, local police and the rule of law.  Things like evacuation routes, fire departments, and the Emergency Broadcast System are the second priority for public money.  Thirdly we see the health and growth of commerce which act in support of the first two. 

It isn’t until after those priorities are met that we fund our Government to help us to solve quality of life problems.  So why is it that when times are tough and there is less tax being collected that our leaders say that funding for the highest priority items are in danger first?

This state just passed a tax package that will raise more revenue by creating/increasing taxes on items that “The People” consider harmful or repugnant.  Basically, if you are a smoker, drinker, junk food eater, or bottled water fan, “The People” feel they have a right to take more of your income.  (Yes, I know there are cuts included in this package, but the bulk of this package amounts to less money in our pockets)

Let me tell you how I saw this unfold.  We had financial problems.  Folks had less income, therefore there was less money for “The People” to tax.  The representatives of “The People” recognized this and announced they needed more money.  I don’t know about you, but when I have less money I have to umm, well, spend less money!  How is it that “The People” don’t have to do the same?  The answer to that is – effective use of fear.

When budget short falls happen rather than instituting program cuts in priority order, our elected representatives trot out the bogey man and threaten us.  The first thing we hear is that unless new money is raised our security and safety will be at risk.  This is how they manage to get away with raising taxes at a time when there is less money in our bank accounts.  They say boo!  We pull out our wallets.

I wonder if you and I could use this method?  Currently when times get tough, we start by cutting luxury items followed by comfort items, and if we don’t see relief we continue on until we forfeit cars, homes, food and then life itself.  What if instead when the pinch was first felt we just went to our boss and said “Hey, times are hard and I need more money.  If I don’t get it, I know where you live and you may find it advisable to begin sleeping lighter, if you know what I mean.”  (Insert sinister chuckle, winks, knowing nods etc here)

I’m betting that would really upset “The People” and we’d likely find ourselves unemployed.  We might even end up a ward of the state.  Of course, there’s no money to keep people in jail so we’d probably just find ourselves enjoying the rustic outdoor life. 

This all seems backward and wrong to me.  Doesn’t it to you?  If only we had some way of letting our representatives know how we felt, just some mechanism by which we could say “hey, this sucks, stop it”.  I dunno, maybe if we could all send in a piece of paper or get together somewhere and sign something.  Heck, maybe if they don’t listen, we could get some different folks to represent us.  It seems like we ought to be able to do something like that.

Don’t drive angry!  Drive weird!

It’s countdown to vacation!!! Sunday Tammy and I attended the church taco feed before the semiannual meeting. We plopped our stuff down at a table and went off to view some displays that had been setup and fix our plates. When I got back to the table I found that we had been overtaken by the teenage crowd. In the last couple of years I’ve become known for wearing brimmed hats and one was sitting on the table where I’d left it. As I sat I made an offhand comment that the youngsters when seeing my hat should have known they would be hanging with old people. For this I got genuine smiles from some of the nicest young adults I’ve met since I can remember, perhaps even since the time I was one of them. Long story short, they were all talking about how their spring break went and I’ve decided to declare this vacation Spring Break!

Cruise control is one of those items that people always seem to call out when they talk about the features of their car. I’m not sure how many folks use it, but I’m a fan. I like it for a couple of reasons. The first, and I’m guessing the most obvious, is that on a long drive my leg gets tired. You wouldn’t think it would be a big deal to hold your foot at that angle, but over time I’ve it adds up. The second reason I use my cruise control is the money it saves. If you have a 5 mile commute this won’t apply, but over time keeping your throttle at one steady level causes your engine to be more efficient. That in the end saves gas money.

The last of the reasons I like my cruise control is that it helps me to be behaviorally consistent in my driving. I try to set my cruise control at the speed limit +5 MPH. The interesting thing about traveling at that consistent speed is that you start to take notice of the behavior of the cars around you. With the exception of driving late at night or early in the morning you’ll notice that you keep seeing the same cars. First they are passing you, and then later you are overtaking them. Although the flow seems dynamic, when viewed at a macro level you begin to see the characteristics of a grouping. How you behave in that grouping has impact on the whole and this is where consistency I think can positively affect the drivers around you.

Consistency these days has a bad reputation. The pace of modern life has found a companion in words like “flexible” and “nimble”. In the same turn modern man has experienced a falling out with “consistency”. So much so in fact that we’ve taken to labeling dinosaurs that still attempt to seek consistency as being “inflexible”, “change resistant”, or “intractable”. Where I struggle with these thoughts is seeded in my experience at work with how change is dealt with. I work in what historically has been known as a dynamic environment industry. Being able to cope with change is a pre-requisite to being successful. Unfortunately there’s a side effect that occurs in that environment and gets exploited.

The chaos that occurs during cycles of frequent rapid change has created fertile ground that an observant participant can capitalize on. In traffic you see these as the person with the little red sports car that has enough horse power to thread his way through the pack. That car does get ahead but at a noticeable expense to the safety and sanity of everyone on the road. In my industry these folks surface as profiteers who with some savvy patter and a terrific façade manage to appear to be doing amazing work. By the time the realities of their efforts surface they have gotten what they wanted and have either moved on or use the next cycle of change as a smoke screen to cover their tracks.

Thankfully much like the red paint on the sports car I’ve learned to spot the warning signs that tell of their approach. They usually start with a statement like “we need to shake things up a bit”. It’s like hearing their motor wind up and you’ve got two choices. With a little planning and quick thinking you can maneuver into a position that has potential to block their progress. If you succeed, you may get the satisfaction of saying you kept them from “getting one over on you”. The problem is that you don’t succeed in modifying their behavior and it usually results in them doing something even more dangerous and obnoxious. Your other option is to just get out of their way. It took me a long time but I think I’m finally starting to see the wisdom to the latter both at work and on the freeway.

Of course, there’s a cost to stepping aside as well.

There is another aspect here that concerns me. When the other drivers see the little red sports car zoom by, rather than shaking their heads and allowing the experience to build wisdom, I see people choosing to imitate the behavior.

Sigh. Oh well.

I think I’ll keep using my cruise control though. People may not agree and ultimately see me as hanging on the outmoded ideals but I’m ok with that. I’ll still get where I’m going. Considering the cost I’d still prefer to remain predictable and consistent.

Don’t drive angry! Drive weird!

“Zwip vwoom, zwip vwoom, yut yut, yut yut, zwip vwoom, zwip vwoom”

Ahh the melodic, relaxing, welcoming siren call of road noise at 6 AM on a Monday morning.  It’s not a wonder that Tammy prefers to do the evening leg of the drive.  I try my best to make sure I get enough sleep before the commute.  I find doing a Bobble Head imitation while driving to be a frustrating experience.

It’s tough for me though.  Sleep and I don’t get along.  Since I was a little baby I’ve been an insomniac.  I don’t mean a modern day overdose of artificial light and stimulants insomniac.  There are chemicals that the brain secretes to cause us to pass from wakefulness to sleep and in my case the pump has trouble getting started.  There are many times I’ve gone 3 or 4 days without meaningful sleep and it can get pretty interesting. It wouldn’t be that bad if not being able to sleep also meant I wasn’t tired. Sadly that’s not the case.

After the first 24 hours my head starts to feel like there’s a piece of fishing line piercing the base of my skull anchored to little pins on each ear and then pulled tight. Back and forth along that line there is an insistent barely audible hum. It’s like two tiny miners are using the line for tin can telephones and while one hums the other quietly screams the word “greek”. This results in a dull head ache that can’t be touched by pain relievers. Over the next 24 hours my head slowly fills with cotton and my peripheral vision shrinks until it feels like I’m seeing everything through goggles made from two rolls of extra soft toilet paper strapped to my skull.

As one approaches 96 hours the hallucinations start. I’ve never knowingly taken illegal drugs, so I can’t really compare this experience with it. I can say that while the description here may sound like a story told by a roadie for The Doors there is no note of pleasure to go with it. The passage of time doesn’t even have its usual effect of injecting humor into those memories. Through it all I’m desperate to lay my head down and sleep. It just doesn’t happen. I just lay there.

About 10 years ago I acquired another friend that brought some new twists to the party. As I lay down to sleep my legs, particularly my left, decided to grow a tiny brain of its own. This brain is that of a man who walks about constantly wringing his hands and saying things like “Why won’t they leave me alone” and “they’ll find me if I stand still, they’ll find me”. The only thing I could do to stop this “leg paranoia” was to shake my foot. Have you ever tried to kick your leg and go to sleep? It’s like trying to walk in two different directions at the same time. This is a condition called Restless Leg Syndrome.

Finally I had enough. I walked into my doctor’s office having been up for 4 days, plopped down in the waiting room and said “I need help”. I must have looked like a background dancer from the Thriller video. My head would bob to the side then I’d jerk suddenly, kick my leg for a few seconds and repeat. I was a mess. My doctor took pity on me and we went after some chemical solutions. Over the years I’ve tried all the over the counter remedies and several prescribed ones but nothing worked at least not without the fear of getting hooked. This time around I was prescribed Ambien to help me sleep and Gabapentin for the jump legs. Using them I’ve been able to get into a nice pattern of regular sleep.

Solving the problem this way has required that I get into a routine. Two hours before I got to sleep I take an Ambien. During the day I seldom have more caffeine than is present in my morning cup of coffee. Of course, that cup is a quad tall non-fat 120 degree latte so I can’t quite claim to be practicing moderation. It all calls for a pretty tight schedule. I’m up at 5:00, coffee and out of the house at 5:45. We get home around 6-ish and medicated at 7 so I can get to sleep at 9. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I’ve gotten really protective of that schedule. Any more than 30 minutes off the time table and I feel it in the morning. So why am I sharing all this with you?

It may not be a great surprise that the one place I can easily go to sleep is behind the wheel of a car traveling down a straight road at 60 MPH. Highway Hypnosis is the name applied to this phenomenon and it makes a great deal of sense to me. What makes Ambien an effective solution to my insomnia is that it is a hypnotic so the steady thrum of the road makes for an effective substitute!

I certainly wouldn’t encourage everyone that has trouble going to sleep pursue medication as anything but a last result. It does occur to me however that if there’s a remote chance that we might share the road during my morning drive you might want to send a thank you note to the folks over at Sanofi-Aventis for keeping our roadways safe. I know drug companies aren’t people’s favorite corporate buddies, but in this one instance it may be warranted.

Don’t drive angry! Drive weird!

Welcome to the new home for the Plague! 

I did some poking around looking to get around some problems I was having with Blogger and following some advice from Jeremy migrated to WordPress.

I don’t know if it’s going to last but the suns out! I’m ready to unthaw.

My first car was an Aquamarine 1968 Ford Falcon station wagon.

Above is a ’69 and a much more pleasant color but you get the idea. The car was a gift from my Mom through my brother Dale. He gave her a different car and the wagon got passed on to me. I loved it. I was 16 and being a relatively good kid, could come and go as I pleased.

My friends and I took to calling it The Tank and it felt like one. It had a solid 289 engine and positraction rear wheel drive. The body was fairly straight and aside from the odd petrified French fry or chicken nugget, the interior was passable. My ride was huge with room for 6 teenagers and that was before we put people in the cargo area!

One of the strongest feelings that I carry with me from driving these older cars is a sense of safety. Cars prior to the 80’s were, generally, made of solid steel and compared to today’s cars seem indestructible. I can’t count the number of times I’ve made a statement like “My current car vs. my first car? No contest, my Ford Falcon would crush one of these new plastic vehicles”. The truth turns out to be something very different. The reality is our new technology beats the heck out of old solid construction.

In September 2009, for its 50^th anniversary the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety celebrated by performing their standard head on collision test between a 2009 Chevy Malibu and a 1959 Chevy Bel Air. The results were, well, startling. Here’s the video (you may want to click on the video and watch it in a larger screen, some of the text gets cut off in the blog here).

With some thought it starts to make sense.  The technology put into the construction of the modern automobile is pretty amazing stuff.  Crumple zones, air bags, seatbelts, head rests are all things that contribute to why, as demonstrated in the video above, my 2010 Hyundai is so much safer than that old wagon of mine.

Why is it that we are so predisposed to believing that our modern way of living is so much less desirable than the recent past?  This way of thinking creeps into lots of places.  There’s a huge push to return to natural food sources, stop using pesticides, and using hormones.  In this blog while questioning the “good” in technology I’ve encouraged people to tune out and have a look outside now and then.

Human’s have an amazing ability to convince ourselves that if enough people say it then it must be true.  Hitler was unfortunately correct when he said “If you tell a lie long enough, loud enough, and often enough, the people will believe it.”  It’s good to have our assumptions challenged by things like the collision above. 

Here are a few thoughts about our recent past.  Life expectancy in Colonial America was under 25 years.  40% of children failed to reach adulthood.  In the early 20th century, that number increased to 45 years.  Today, thanks largely to advances in public health measures, and safer more abundant food sources, life expectancy is an average 67.2 years.

Before you start emailing me images of chickens in cages that are essentially two oversized breasts and a head, I’m not advocating injecting every grain of food produced with Methylethyldeath.  What I am saying is that we make frequent decisions, small and large, over things such as auto safety, food supply and climate.  Those decisions impact where trillions of dollars are spent and huge amounts of resources are applied.  With what’s at stake I think it compels us to make sure that we are operating on a foundation of facts and doing our best to seek the truth.

As we go about choosing what products we buy and how we cast our votes perhaps it’s worth the time to read up a little to make sure the truth matches the packaging. What does “all natural” or “organic” mean? Is there a single definition? What about carbon footprints and melting ice? If those questions just seem too daunting, here’s one you might consider asking, “Who’s profiting from what’s being said?” It’s amazing how often the answer to that question can be used as a measure of value in a statement.

Don’t drive angry! Drive weird!

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter. I was wow’d by the number of articles on the web news this year on the subject. From the significance of eggs, to the plausibility of a physical body resurrection and “how many Christians hold to that belief”. I did so much head shaking over the weekend my neck hurt.

I live in a pretty quiet neighborhood. I wouldn’t use the word sleepy. You still have to lock your doors and I don’t think I’d live here without a burglar alarm, but compared to living in the city it’s peaceful. Even out here though you will still get a “9x stereo” roll by and make our windows rattle. By 9x I mean a car with a stereo worth nine times the value of the car it’s installed in.

Where do I start with this one? It makes my head swim.

What gives these rolling Eustachian tube cleaners their removal power is the subwoofer or “woofer”.

These bass speakers will run the driver anywhere from hundreds to tens of thousands of dollars. Being generally nerdy, I get the how of the mechanism but as hard as I try I don’t get the why. I don’t come from the generation that scowls at loud music. When I’m alone in the car I crank up the tunes loud enough that I can’t hear my cell phone ring. In some of the cars I’ve owned turning the music up was how I solved most mechanical problems. When those wheel bearings started to make noise, “pump up the volume”. Ok, so in the long run not the most economical form of automobile maintenance, but I’m not much for anything that doesn’t come with a keyboard.

I considered that it may be the kind of music that says to the driver “what would really heighten my experience would be if there was enough base produced to occasionally cause one of my toenails to pop off”. The only form of music I could think that seemed to fit was Rap.

I’m not a fan of Rap; in fact I don’t really consider it music. I might put it in the same category as Beatnik poetry. Please don’t hear me say that I’m making a stand against Rap as an art form or making a generally statement in opposition to all who create or listen to it. I’m the last person anyone should come to for input on anything that falls under the heading “art”. I just don’t get it personally.

Ok, back to subwoofers and Rap. In casual observation that loud thumping bass does appear to go hand in hand with Rap. The more I thought about it though the harder it became to be convinced that to call oneself a connoisseur required a “Womp-o-matic 200 Decibel Knee Krusher”. Sure, I understand the adrenaline rush associated with a driving beat like that, but does having it loud enough to create a pressure wave that forces cars next to you on the freeway to go momentarily out of phase with the universe? Somehow I doubt that’s a requirement.

It got me to thinking about similar things I observe, for instance, people with loud motorcycles. Again, I’m not a mechanical guy, but I can’t imagine a scenario where any vehicle on a public roadway needs so much horsepower that coming in contact with a few pebbles might cause them to transition from “rolling” to “flying”. Again, I appreciate enough oomph to get up to merging speed or to pass a slow moving vehicle (where it’s legal), but I seem to be able to accomplish this without hardware on my car that risks cracking the pavement.

So yah, it’s the cool factor. I get it, I really do. I’ve lived much of my life trying to get there. When I was younger I got frustrated because I never seemed to fit in with the cool kids. As I got older I started to think that what made those kids cool were the things they had. I chased that for a while. I don’t have the physique or eye for clothes, so I tried collecting other things to get cool. It took me a while but eventually I saw folly in that.

My friend Dan puts the word “consumer” up there with some of the most reviled he’s heard. I’ve seen his facial expressions change when it’s used casually in a sentence. While I don’t get quite to the places he does with it the discussions have caused me to change my thinking about how, where, and why I buy things. I probably won’t be giving up my big screen but I do look at the value of placed on stuff and what that says about their owner differently than before. It’s been a catalyst for some fundamental changes in the way I live my life.

What I want to say when folks pull up next to me, car windows flexing to the beat, wheel rims giving the illusion their car is still in motion, is that most of us are just annoyed by it. I’d hesitate to claim that most people reach a point where they stop chasing cool. My guess is that their definition of it just changes as they grow older, after all age is no guarantee of wisdom. Allow me however, to make a small suggestion before you upsize your subwoofer or put the next louder muffler on your car. As an experiment, take that money, and make a charitable donation. Maybe buy some food and drop it off at a local food bank. However you define it, try using that money to better someone else’s life. My bet is doing that will make you feel cool, though it may keep you from looking the part. That’s ok though, the feeling lasts longer than the look.

At the very least it may save us all some trips to the dentist and auto glass repair shop!

Don’t drive angry! Drive weird!

Wow, Monday was a wild drive home. Going up the South Center Hill the hail was coming down so hard I was starting to worry about our windshield. It was so thick on the road that cars were losing traction. After the hail came the rain. Big sloppy rain coming down at a rate that even with our wipers on full blast we had trouble seeing.

I’ve mentioned my friend Doug here before. Doug is one of those men that are slowly disappearing from the American landscape. He’s a wiz with all things mechanical and displays no hesitation when asked to crawl under machinery to see where “that drip is coming from”. From what I’ve seen he can drive just about anything. I’ve seen him behind the wheel of a car, a tractor, a tow truck, and a front loader the size of Michigan. He is truly blessed with a wide range of skills and abilities. This alone isn’t what makes him an endangered species. You see, Doug also possesses a truly genuine heart for people.

I know many people I would describe as kind. I’ve been blessed to know a larger than average number of folks who put their kindness into practice and the term “salt of the earth” fits them well. Doug however will always be who I think of when I hear the phrase “Be salt and light”.

My friend Doug wears his love for people like a sandwich board. It’s easy to see and the reading lamp is lit.

I wake up in the morning like a grumpy disoriented bear, scratching, grumbling and squinting with one eye looking for something to swat at. I imagine that Doug gets out of bed, does something akin to an Irish jig, and says “Who am I going to get to help today!” It sounds fanciful I know, but if you knew Doug you’d be able to imagine it too, if only a little.

One of the other things that Doug can drive, and it blows me away, is a tug boat. In fact that’s what he does for a living. His boat is moored in Tacoma and he works all over the Puget Sound but spends a good deal of time in the San Juan Island area. To me this qualifies him as having one of and perhaps the most interesting commute. He’s often gone for a week or more at a time and lately he’s been sending pictures of his trip using his camera phone. I think Doug would have been quite at home in an era where people drew on cave walls. He is adept at communicating with pictures. His version of “texting” is writing a note on a napkin, taking a picture of it and sending it to the recipient. Here’s Doug showing me where he was at one day.

 

 

Here’s the view from his “driver’s seat”.

 

 

It really does make a bright spot in my day when he catches one of these shots and sends them my way.

Doug and I are very different people. You put a wrench in my hand and the most likely end result will be a bump or welt. I try hard never to use a hammer out of a strong dislike for emergency rooms. Just last weekend I stained the deck and opening the bucket of stain was nearly a cause for breaking out the insurance card. I’ve always been that way. Not only am I lacking aptitude in those areas but for the most part I don’t have the urge to work with my hands. Don’t get me wrong, I have skills, just not that kind.

I’m particularly good at identifying voice over actors. People are frequently amazed when I call out “Kiefer Sutherland” or “Robert De Niro” during a credit card commercial. If you ever find a need for someone to quote Star Trek facts, or recite lyrics from obscure bands like Oingo Boing or The Tubes, I’m your man. Tammy recently discovered that I can do a pretty good Bobby McFerrin impression and if there’s a Muppet emergency I can do a passing Kermit singing Rainbow Connection. Oh, and yah, that computer thing pays the bills, but really, making sure people can get on You Tube or umm, well, read my blog doesn’t really make a list of vital skills. When the power goes out no one rings me up and says “Wes, we need more RAM!” Good thing too because I’m too busy calling others to ask which hole the gas goes in on the generator.

Thankfully I know people like Doug and with any luck he’s in town when the power goes out.

Don’t drive angry! Drive weird!

P.S. – For those of you that don’t know, the different colored text in these posts is links to something else. All my links are to things I chose, for instance the link for “these shots” points to the rest of the pictures Doug has sent me. Sometimes links in blogs aren’t placed there by the author and just amount to advertising. So feel free to follow my links, it points to something I meant you to see ehehe.

Tammy is home and just in time too. I was close to forgetting what vegetables look like and was on my last Hot Pocket. Oh, and apparently if you keep compressing the garbage in the can with your foot it becomes impossible to remove. Live and learn. Hmm, and I appear to be missing several right shoes.

I’m not a fan of flying. I always end up with marks from the arm rests where I tuck my muffin tops in. I’d provide a link to a definition for “muffin tops” but I couldn’t find one that didn’t include inappropriate pictures of girls wearing jeans 2 sizes too small. So anyway, let’s say I’m as comfortable on an airplane as a The Church Lady at an Ozzy Ozborne concert. Tammy has to do an Atlanta trip 3 or more times a year and she dreads it. Her trip back this time was a little different though.

We use technology to stay in touch when Tammy is out of town. We try to have video calls each night using Live Messenger but at a minimum we text chat through the day. Nothing makes up for not being together but it does take the hallow feeling away some. If you’ve ever spent significant time in an empty room you know what I mean. I’ve moved into new apartments and been too busy to unpack for a week or two. By the time I hung pictures and set out knickknacks I’d start to get fidgety. I’m still alone in the room when Tammy is away but the technology keeps me from getting fidgety.

Tammy’s “commute” home on Friday had a little help from the Internet. Her flight was 7 hours long including a layover in Milwaukie. During the layover she sent me email with an update on her progress. We swapped several messages and she mentioned that AirTran was providing free Wi-Fi during her flight so for the leg to Seattle she broke out the laptop and we chatted. A couple weeks ago my friend Doug, who’s a tug boat captain, sent me a link to a site that allows you to track ships at sea in real time. That got me to thinking and sure enough I found the same thing for air traffic.

So here I sat in our living room in Lakebay while Tammy was 36,000 feet over Wisconsin traveling at 400+ mph. She’s telling me how cramped the seat is while listening to XM satellite radio and I’m letting her know as she crosses over state boundaries or flying over major landmarks. How crazy is that? The world does seem smaller these days. Her battery went dead shortly before she crossed in to Montana but I continued to monitor her progress. When she approached Washington State I left the house and the timing was dead on. As I walked up to her baggage carrousel she was coming down the escalator.

Ok, sure, I was about to do the nerd equivalent of the Ickey Shuffle but every time I get close to describing some technology as virtuous I start to think about the shadows left behind. While I never have to feel the severity of that separation the cost is never feeling the joy that comes from a reunion after a long absence. I may never have to sit in a quiet empty room, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to find that empty room when I want it. Along with the all the benefits that technology brings comes a sort of digital leash.

I’m not saying that I’m concerned enough that I’m considering disconnecting the power and recycling our computers. I can pull off the look (I have the legs for it), but those brown robes are too drafty and I bet that rope belt chafes. It’s enough though to keep me from giving my entire life over to a digital version of itself. There will always be something restorative about the sound a house makes when it settles. I love being able to listen to a good book in the car but there are times when the convenience can’t compete with a comfortable chair and the feel of a hard back book in your hands.

So thanks for tuning into this blog and allowing me to decompress my stress. Now turn off your computer and have a look outside. If the lights are on out there then it means the thing we call “The Sun” is in the sky, don’t stare at that, it will hurt. But if there aren’t any clouds between you and it, you’ll likely feel warm and that’s pretty nice. If it’s dark, spend a few minutes looking up at the sky. Those endless points of light you see are what the writer of Genesis in a footnote on creation referred to when he said “He made the stars also”. And that my friend is real technology.

Don’t drive angry! Drive weird!

Tammy-less, day 3. Supplies are low. Now eat meals compiled from a single main dish … no … time … for side dishes. Ugh. Martini olive rationing has set in.

Having my wife out of town is starting to wear on me. By the time she gets in tomorrow I’ll simply be sitting in a corner trying to mediate a conversation my elbows are having on the effects of hand cream on nuclear proliferation (Left, oddly enough favors a strong offense and would like to see deficit spending increased 40% to create missiles powered by Pop Rock candy). When I woke up this morning the room didn’t feel right. It was misshapen, and my vision was blurred. I was seeing doubles, 2 beds, and 2 sinks. The furniture no longer looked familiar to me. Not having Tammy around is making me bonkers, well that, or the fact that I stayed in a hotel room in Redmond last night to take a break from the commute.

This reduced my drive to a whopping 7 minutes this morning. It was a nice break. My car barely got up to temperature by the time I pulled into the garage. The experience has me thinking though. The distance between where we live and where we work is more than just a physical space. I slept late yesterday morning and toddled into to work about 9:30. I got a good day’s work in then met some friends for dinner at P.F. Chang’s in Bellevue Square. Afterward we saw Alice in Wonderland. It was my first time at P.F. Chang’s. The food was ok though I have to say I’m not sure what everybody raves about. The movie was a lot of fun but the 3D thing doesn’t really flip my lid. The real joy was spending a night out with the guys. One of the few things I miss about living closer to town are nights like that.

I didn’t sleep great, ok, but not great. The bed was a little goofy and a bedroom always seems hallow without Tammy in it. Don’t get me wrong though, it was a nice room. The internet access was complimentary, something you rarely see these days, the staff was friendly and the hotel was clean. I got in today about 8:00. As I walked into the building, even with the seemly relaxed schedule, I still felt weary. I shouldn’t have, but I did.

I’m not sure how or if you experience this, but my brain makes very noticeable changes into different modes. When I’m working, my brain ‘clicks’ into that mode. I have a mode for home, yet another for vacation, for church, etc. I’m the kind who tends to focus on one major thing at a time so I guess this pattern fits me. I rely on changes in my environment to shift my brain into the next mode. The older I get the more I realize that life is a marathon not a sprint and the more deliberate I am about altering my environment to make the division between modes more pronounced. For instance, when I’m done working for the day I close my work email and do my best to keep it closed until it’s time to get back into work mode. Not blurring the line between modes keeps my brain fresh and helps me keep a sustainable pace.

So, as I made the short drive into the office today it was the first time I realized how big an impact being a “country mouse” is having on me. The difference in pace is noticeable and it seems I’ve incorporated that change into my survival skills. The pace of where I live might actually be working its way into who I am and that surprises me.

I guess I’ve gone native. I probably won’t take up hunting and gathering vegetables still means a trip to Albertsons but apparently the experience runs deeper than that. Go figure.

Don’t drive angry! Drive weird!

Tammy is off to Atlanta for meetings this week. It’s like sending a leg or my sense of balance off for several days. The feeling reminds me of my in-law’s dog Baxter. At one point he had something go wrong with him, stroke is their best guess. Now he twirls everywhere he goes. He’s a sweet little guy but when you call to him you can’t help be a little sad watching him spin his way to you. I’ll be that way all week, sort of teetering like a comically oversized 18 month old with tech skills in search of comfort food.

You can put on your favorite music and rock out. For some, talk radio gets it done. Some still (headsets please) take the time to call their mom. For me, audio books help me to ignore traffic jams. I’m currently listening to Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis. Still though, even with the most effective distraction sitting in traffic is frustrating. It’s that sense of freedom just beyond my reach.

I know when I first got a car that freedom made me want to hop around like Rocky at the top of the stairs. It must be in some small way the feeling that a bird gets when it flies. Who knows, but I like the image it puts in my head and I’m certainly not the first to use it. When I get slowed to walking pace it feels like falling back to the earth. Every time it happens I can’t help but think about the cause ahead. At the very least it’s going to be a bunch of people who don’t know how to merge and at most it will be a serious accident caused by some who was behaving like a schmuck. The slower the crawl the longer I have to get ready to shake my fist at them. Oh boy, if it turns out to just be a bad merge I nearly blow a gasket because there’s no one to rail at.

By the time I get home I’m so angry I could spit nails. Tammy has various solutions to calm me down. She shows me the Daily Puppy, waves red meat at me and if all else fails she head butts me in the ribs.

I get this way about what goes on in politics too. I see our representatives enacting laws for no reason I can see other than it gives them a claim to fame for the next election. No one solves problems anymore; they just nurse them along to justify the need for a support system. My work is much the same, just a never ending series of meaningless tasks on the horizon. No end in sight, no hope for release, no ability to make a run for freedom.

It’s starting to feel like I’m going to be stuck in traffic until I take the dirt nap.

I’m bothered by this immensely.

I inhabit this space.

Tammy and I have talked about it a lot lately. Saturday we were having one of our permutations on this conversation. Sunday morning we scooted into church on the verge of being late. Sometimes God’s presence is so full in that building that it changes the way the light moves in the room. Sunday was one of those days and Dan spoke right into the heart of this issue for me. The short version is that Dan reminded me that I need to remember to separate the person from their actions. It’s such a simple concept and for me one of the hardest things to put into practice. Hate the sin, love the sinner. It’s surely how I want to be treated.

Now I just got to figure out how this looks when traffic is merging. Maybe I could shake my fist at them but be holding a sign that says “big merge hugs!” Mostly I guess I better learn to stop taking it personally and find solace in the fact that the person behind that wheel is just that, a person. They might be someone who is also having a long day, a stressful job, weighty obligations hanging over their head, and perhaps not the support system at home that I do. That sounds like a good start at least.

Hey, a bumper stick that says “Hate the merge, love the merger!”

Don’t drive angry! Drive weird!