BNYC 2ME

That was a license plate I saw near the office last week. I thought, at first, that it was a plea based on the driving mentality of the DC area (see earlier post). It then occurred to me that the spelling could go two ways. Maybe the driver was looking for a nicer world. Alternatively, the spelling could indicate the driver's heritage - and no one who calls New York City home is looking for a more friendly driving experience. Nope, that driver is looking for commuting cohorts who know how to use the horn, and that driving slow in the left-hand lane is a cardinal sin.

In the end, I have no idea what that license plate is meant to say. I just know that one way, you've got a driver who should be living somewhere else, and another, an accident waiting to happen. Either way, it's a pretty stupid plate.

Road Warrior

As I was driving home yesterday (and that's still weird to say), I was struck by the lessons I've learned from driving in DC. During my car-free days, I was a hesitant driver, mostly because I was unused to it, or unused to the speed that was involved in not being on public transportation. There was also a healthy recognition that any vehicle I was driving was not mine, and damages are expensive. I'm overcoming that hesitancy, however, and not necessarily in a good way.

Blocking the Box. It took getting passed in the intersection twice, but I've learned that when turning left, you sit in the middle of the intersection, so that, at the very least, you can turn when the light turns red.

Kiss my Bumper. The idea of leaving a car length between myself and the vehicle ahead makes me smile indulgently at the naivete of non-city drivers. If there's enough space for a car, then a car is coming over, so ride that bumper, friend. This does, of course, lead to...

Doing the Jerk. Between following too closely, and the drivers who change lanes whether there's room or not, DC driving is an exercise in stop and start - even at 50 mph. It's a good thing I showed up early for the Prius brake recall.

Serenity Now! Whether it's a day of getting stuck behind cars moving 5mph slower than you want to be going, the guy who honks at you when you don't turn between the two Mac trucks, or the scatterbrain who almost changed lanes into the side of your new car, keeping your inner calm is a struggle. It's worth the effort, however, as I've noticed a marked change in fuel consumption depending on my mood. Because when you're angry, stomping on the accelerator and speeding away just feels good.

I know I said, "let's take a break," but...

Um, hi, Snooze-button? It's me. Look, I know I said we should take a break, that you weren't good for me, and I'd be better off without you. Here's the thing - I can't really hack it without you. Work is busy and the alarm is set for 5am. We've sprung forward, and it's dark outside. I need you. So let's give it another go, and see if we can't find a healthier balance, ok? Because I still can't use you as a crutch for an hour each morning, but it turns out I can't just leap out of bed, either.

The cost of free food.

I had a volunteer meeting tonight, for which I raced out of the office. Ok, I still left half an hour later than intended, but when my client told me, "I'll only keep you for half an hour more..." I told him he had 15 minutes. It was worth it when I made it in time to grab a pre-meeting beer with fellow volunteers. All that stress and hurry, however, to listen to a large man with a girlishly high-pitched voice talk for an hour in front of PowerPoint slides that were pictures of forms.

I wonder what folks would say if I just went for the pre-meeting beer and then skipped the meeting?

I didn't turn my phone ringer back on until I was home, so I missed the call that came in while chatting with the neighbor. An unfamiliar number greeted me, along with the voicemail, "hey, it's (stupid male), you gave me your number a week ago... what's up?" What's up is that more than a week ago I maybe thought you should call me, but more than a week later, I'm pretty sure I don't care. And don't any of you out there tell me to give him a chance, that I'm too hard on those poor men-folk. Every time I cave to someone else's "just give him a chance" urgings I regret it. I don't think it's unreasonable to expect a call inside of a week. Also, I wasn't too sure I wanted to give him my digits in the first place - that's two times uncertain, and dating is not a three-strike ball game.

When the milk runs out…

The government shut down last week for four days, and Friday it was a late start day – I (wisely) opted to stay home that day, as well. The snow two-fer succeeded in shutting down the city, making a mess of the roads, and shutting down supplies – grocery stores ran out of everything from milk and bread to condoms (no joke), and even my local pub had to stop serving food one afternoon.

Luckily, having been out of town for the three weeks prior and coming home to bare cupboards, I had stocked up – I had treats from Trader Joe’s, plenty of coffee and milk, and a cabinet full of red wine. Not to mention a five pound bag of potatoes, a bag of onions, and another full of oranges – proof that I should not be allowed in a grocery store without a list. In case you were wondering, it is possible to eat potatoes two ways in the same meal.

But what turned out to be the best thing on hand was something I’d gotten a month or more ago, and had been sitting in my fridge all along. Because after a tramp outside in the snow, or mid-afternoon when webmail has kicked you off again or yet another call gets dropped due to blizzard winds outside, nothing warms up a cuppa like a healthy dose of Irish crème.

So when the milk runs out, my coffee won’t have to go without.

I tried...

The week before Christmas, while I was planning menus and making grocery lists I got ambitious. That combined with the extra time at home in the evening meant that I cooked dinner a couple of nights in a row - invented a pesto sauce from random ingredients, used lots of vegetables, the works. There were leftovers for lunches the next day at work, and the fridge was stocked with tupperware.

So then came a night when I felt that I had time to cook, but insufficient fresh ingredients. But I was on a roll of balanced meals, and even though I didn't feel like cooking, I was feeling guilty for my recent cheese and red wine streak. So I opened the freezer, and pulled out one of the meals I keep on hand for quick packed-lunch virtue. After five minutes I pulled the plastic bowl out of the microwave and my forehead wrinkled as I looked at pasta that was both over and under cooked at the same time, and I took a bite of bland sauce that made my mouth sad. I stood there at the kitchen counter for a minute, pondering the worth of virtue, and the five bucks this microwave disaster had cost me. Then, with a decisiveness that I would not regret, I picked up the bowl and found the trash can, pulled out the stand-by provisions (cheese, salami, and alcohol) and created the dinner that yes, I may have four nights out of five, but hey, add an apple (a usual accompaniment) and tell me that this isn't a balanced meal: Judge me if you will, but if this is wrong, I'm still living right.

...and when she caves, she caves absolutely.

I'm the kind of girl who hates things absolutely, until I love them unconditionally. Like the color pink, or cell phones, or cars.

The first cave was cell phones. When I went to grad school, moving to the big city, my mom made me get a cell phone. I was pretty sure I would never use it. One year later, I was living without a landline and my thumbs were texting maniacs. Now I've got an iPhone that is almost never more than ten feet from me and bells a whistles tell me about emails, text messages, and Tweets. I go whole days at home without turning on a computer, because I can just check it all on my handy phone.

A couple of years later I fell in love with a pink Puma t-shirt. Suddenly it was a good thing I was a broke grad student, because I would have bought a lot of pink to regret later - I'm no longer anti-pink, but it's not my favorite color.

Nine and a half years, though. Almost a decade I lived without a car, and I loved it. I got to read and people watch on my way to work, pay attention to the scenery, think, and live in a world without car payments, gas stations, or fuel emissions. It was wonderful. I walked to grocery markets, I took buses and taxis - I even ran to catch public transportation. I Facebooked and Tweeted about the things I saw on my daily rides. But then, things began to go wrong - my 45 min commute (each way) began to slow. There was a Metro crash that had people in Boston calling me to ensure my safety, and as a result WMATA slowed down trains, and the wait between trains went from 3 minutes to over ten - during rush hour! After realizing that my commute was consistently an hour and fifteen minutes (again, each way), and sometimes longer, I started thinking. Then WMATA announced a revamp of the monthly benefits system that takes my pre-tax dollars and turns them into Metro fare. Suddenly, instead of monthly rollover, I was going to lose any money left on my card at the end of the month. A daily rider with an unpredictable travel schedule, I stood to lose 30$/week if I had to go out of town for work unexpectedly. My thinking took a more serious turn. And then, I got a ride home from work. Lady and I were going out to dinner in my neighborhood, so she swung me by my place so I could drop some stuff off and change. We pulled away from my office at 5:05pm, and pulled into the drive of my building at 5:25pm - after going around the block and passing a whole bunch of parking spaces.

That was pretty much it, I drafted monthly budgets, researched mileage per gallon and estimated monthly gas costs, looked into parking and started timing my daily public transit time. All this research was for the future, I figured, because I knew the car I was leaning towards, and it wasn't just sitting on the lot waiting for me. The Toyota Prius III, with sunroof package - SOLAR sunroof package - had to be reserved, and waited for, 2-3 months out. But that baby has a sunroof - a SOLAR sunroof, where solar panels power a ventilation system that keeps the car at the same temperature as the outside world. No more coming out to a car interior heated to a sweltering 130 degrees, because a fan that didn't drain battery life would ensure that the car was as only as gross as the outside world.

So thinking 2-3 months in advance, I put out feelers to local dealers, and by most I was laughed at, told that the solar sunroof package came with the Prius IV, and why wouldn't I want leather seats with butt warmers? I stood firm, however, unconcerned about the amount of time it might take - I wasn't in a hurry. Then, however, I got a call from the one dealer who listened to me and said he could make it happen. The model I wanted, complete with solar sun roof package, and the color I wanted, was coming in - how fortuitous. So I caved. Completely. I reserved parking spots at home and at work, and my commute is now twenty minutes. I have time for both coffee and the blow dryer in the morning, and I'm in comfy pants on the couch no later than six, and often by five-thirty. No one gives me dirty looks for touching them on the seat next to me. I've cooked dinner twice in the past work week, and was able to see my parents on the weekend without spending two hours getting there. I cannot tell a lie, I'm in love with a piece of machinery. I could drink coffee with impunity on my morning commute - if my commute weren't short enough that I don't feel the itch for my next caffeine hit. My iPhone loves my car, because the car stereo speakers so gladly sync up with the little gadget, and the bluetooth makes its connection so I can answer a phone call by shifting a finger on the steering wheel. A friendly navigation systems dings when I should make a turn - though she doesn't understand what I'm doing on the Rock Creek Parkway.

I've caved, and all I need now is a name for the new girl. In college my car was named Phil - short for Mephistopheles, because he was devilish, both in fun and ability to fail me unexpectedly. This car, however, is a female, and I've been thinking about names - crossed off Sylvia and Lydia, pondering Andromeda and Iphigenia, I could call her Genie for short - and have had Julia suggested to me. She's sleek and smart, and her 50mpg makes her eco-friendly and frugal, as well. Other suggestions?

PS - there are still things I hate absolutely. I never see myself caving on the issue of hearts. Blech.