 Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans, cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of. Contact me at theyoungfamily (at) earthlink (dot) net . . . . . . . . . .
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» Friday, March 23, 2018
Atomicon, Day 2, Part 2
 The end of the day was both good and bad. The nice part was going to a little hole-in-the-wall place, White Columns, near the dialysis clinic that had "home cooking." I was dying for chicken and dumplings. Unfortunately they had run out of chicken and dumplings an hour earlier, and I impulsively exclaimed, "Awww, he was in dialysis an hour ago." We both had a good dinner: James had some chili and something called a cheeseburger casserole (very small), and two vegetables; I had an open-faced roast beef sandwich with real roast beef, and the cook said my baked potato so they gave me a second one for free.So when time came for the check, the waitress asked if we needed anything else, and James said we were just waiting for the bill. The waitress said someone had already paid the bill for us. Wasn't that sweet? So we consulted the GPS and went the shortest way. The first part was pleasant; we listened to "A Way With Words" and the road was wide and clear. Then we turned toward Helen and the roads got narrower and darker, because even though we were on DST we had used up all our light hours eating. We ended up on the Richard B. Russell Scenic Parkway, which we have driven before, but in the daylight. At night it's frightening, because it is up and down steep curves on the side of the mountain, up to several thousand feet. I didn't know how this could be faster than the way we came, but halfway through, when I realized where we were, I was scared to death, not for me, but for James driving. I was afraid he would start having heart problems again, but there was nowhere to stop and it would have been dangerous. So we did this for 40 straight minutes of sheer terror, and when we finally got to the hotel we were wiped out. So it was a great relief that everyone was still up and we ended up the day with laughter, playing Cards Against Humanity.  » Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Sparkles on the Road
Our awards ceremony apparently was a topping success, so everyone got 59 minutes of administrative leave. According to the traffic maps, everything was already a fat, hot red mess boiling up to burgundy, so I drove home "overland" through surface streets, stopping for about fifteen minutes at Atlanta Vintage Books. Sadly, they had no Christmas books except for recipe books, and their regional section didn't have any New England books I was interested in. I did get a good look at two of the bookstore cats, two magnificent longhairs, one a calico (I'm partial to calicoes). Then left on Windsor, over the bridge that crosses GA400, past a row of wonderful Craftsman-style brick homes, left on Roswell Road, and then immediately right on West Wieuca to go through Chastain Park. Three horses were being exercised at the equestrian ring as I turned right at the end of the park on to Powers Ferry Road, then almost immediately left on Jett Ferry. This eventually took me through a tree-crowded neighborhood until it was time for me to turn left on Mount Paran Road. Mount Paran is mostly a wealthy neighborhood with homes wayyyyyy beyond money I'll ever see, especially the newer ones, which, if for sale, are being sold by Christie's and Sotheby's. One just recently constructed, a sprawling brick job with a fountain and pond in the front yard and a porte cochere, is for sale again. Further down, around the intersection of West Conway, is a small development of McMansions (including an Italianate house that looks like a wealthy financier's country home) off a dead-end street. The guy on the corner is the one we call "Mr. Inflatable." With this imposing looking house which begged for classic Christmas decorations, he instead covered the sizable lawn completely with inflatable decorations (he also had dozens at Hallowe'en). We always go by to gape. Alas, "Mr. Inflatable" is gone. The house is under contract to a new buyer. (Come to think of it, there were a lot of "For Sale" signs in this whole neighborhood. Perhaps the Atlanta economy isn't as good as they say. But, damn, they're still building apartments, condos, and duplexes with a vengeance.) The rest of the ride was annoying. Once I got to highway 41, traffic reappeared. I tried to get around Cumberland Mall by going through Windy Hill, but the line at the light was thirty cars long and only four or five cars were getting through per cycle. I finally doubled back to Spring Road, where the traffic was at least normal rush hour instead of "lawd-a-mercy the traffic map's gone burgundy." I hadn't taken that ride in ages. Would have been a beautiful one a few weeks ago had the trees turned properly, but that ten days of rain did them in. Still, the Christmas decorations made it all brighter. » Wednesday, April 14, 2010
This is the Way We Wash the Clothes
Five loads today. One was small, three shirts that had mysterious stains. I rewashed two of them with James' support socks. All the clothes, all the towels, and now the dog's bedding and bath towel. Yes, I gave her a bath. On the whole I'd rather wash clothes.
We had a staff meeting today, which I drove in for. It was pleasant on the way out (at noon) and too warm on the way home. I tried out a new app called "Trapster." It's based on the input of users to tag where speed traps, traffic cameras, etc. are. Well, one of the speed trap notifications was definitely correct—I saw the patrol car hovering there on Buford Highway, just where the notation said it was. » Monday, March 29, 2010
Commuting Tales
Somewhere in Atlanta tonight there is a truck driver who hates me.
I was changing lanes before reaching Peachtree Industrial Boulevard. When I moved in front of the truck there was a good distance between him and myself; then the BMcedes in front of me, who was trying to get into the right lanes, abruptly jammed on his brakes because the inevitable slowdown and the PIB exit (the right lane backs up, the drivers in the lane to the left of the right lane see all the brake lights and jam on their brakes, too, even if there is no need to). I almost ended up with a truck in my back seat. It would not have been a pleasant thing. I could hear the grind of his gearshift as his windshield loomed up in my rear window. Urf. Today was my day for seeing unusual cars. This morning I was in the turn lane next to a MiniCooper painted to look like the British flag. This evening I drove about six miles behind a 60s-vintage Plymouth that looked a lot like an old Impala without the chrome. On the passenger-side window was a decal of "the boys" from the old Beatles cartoon series of the 60s. Ew. Smelled like a 60s car, too. Funny, I don't remember cars smelling that bad when I was a kid, unless they were physically blowing grey or black smoke out their tailpipe, or it was a diesel that went by. I remember the scent of fresh-cut grass, dirt, the tar stink of building roofs being redone, cooking scents from neighbors' windows, the sweet scent outside the Gansett Bakery and the rich tomatoey scent of Marcello's, the hot smell coming out of the cleansers, the faint scent of the Burger Chef if the wind was just right, Z'Maria's grapes in the warm sun, Mom's flowers and Padina Lillian's hydrangeas, hot concrete on a summer day, but not a lot of regular car exhaust. Maybe we were just inured to all the exhaust odors back then? » Monday, January 04, 2010
Life's What Happens...First 2010 Installment
Well, this is a great start to the work year. James left a few minutes before me, so I was coming down the stairs as he backed out of the garage and happened to look out the sidelight. His left rear tire, the one that was fixed last month, was flat. And there he was, in his good clothes, in 18°F, prepared to put the spare on...oh, jeez Louise...
So I took him to work and will have to pick him up. The trick is that today is his followup appointment with the hand specialist, so I have to get out early, and take him to the doctor if we can't get the tire changed/fixed by that time. We're going to try and see if we can pump it up temporarily like we did last time to get it to the tire place and see if they can at least put the spare on, since they don't stock that type of tire if he needs a new one. The mysterious thing about this was that we thought we had a flat in that tire on Saturday. James wanted to make a dipping sauce for the pork rolls we were bringing to his mother's, so we stopped at the Food Lion on Watson Boulevard. Just as we turned into the parking lot, we heard a "pop!" and "flap! flap! flap!" coming from the right rear. Thought for sure we had a flat, but the tire was fine. It was fine when we got out of Food Lion, in the driveway at his mom's, and all the way home, and yesterday when we went to Kroger. So maybe what actually happened to it happened in the Kroger parking lot—the builders around here are not careful with nails; I got two flat tires in five months when we were first coming out to the development in 2005—since I went back down to the garage a couple of times in the afternoon, but don't remember looking at the tire, so it could have been going flat yesterday afternoon. But if it did start to happen on Saturday, all I can think of is that we have to thank God it didn't happen fully on I-75 going 70 m.p.h.! [deep sigh] » Monday, September 21, 2009
Awash and Wear[y]
Last night was...fun. Thunder continued to grumble, until it was growling quite loud at bedtime. At midnight, the weather radio came on shrilly to report more flood warnings. (I passed it on my way to the bathroom and not only turned the volume down, but covered the speaker with a wad of Kleenex. Basta!)
The soundtrack for the night went thus: ::RUMBLE!:: "Bark, bark, bark!" "Willow, it's okay; go back to sleep!!" ::RUMBLE!:: "Bark, bark, bark!" "Willow, go back to sleep!!" ::RUMBLE!:: "Bark, bark, bark!" "Willow, enough!" ::RUMBLE!:: "Bark, bark, bark!" "Willow, shut up!" etc. James said she did finally stop barking before every rumble, but he knew that only because he didn't fall asleep until 2 a.m. I awoke at every loud clap of thunder, or when a particularly bright bolt of lightning penetrated the light-blocking shades and insulated curtains in our room, so that, needless to say, when the alarm went off at six I was rather bung-eyed. Snapped on the television for Schuyler and there in glorious darkness lit by headlights and brake lights was a traffic report that looked like something out of Armageddon. About a quarter mile north of where I work is the intersection of I-85 and I-285, flippantly known as Spaghetti Junction for its intertwining elevated ramps. Every single approach to Spaghetti Junction had an accident—yep, from the east, west, north or south. The southern accident wasn't causing much of a backup, and I usually take that route anyway because there are fewer trucks: south on I-75 until it meets with I-85 north of downtown in a V-junction known as the Brookwood interchange, and then north on I-85. Unfortunately a "lake" of epic proportions had appeared from the rain on I-75 just north of Brookwood. One car was still swimming in it and police had blocked the rest of it off so only the two right lanes were in use. Not to mention when I looked outside it was like the Twilight Zone...just black. I couldn't even see onto the deck from the window next to it. So I just booted up my telework connection instead and sat working on one of my replacement PRs until (a) some light actually appeared and (b) all the red warning flashy things disappeared from Spaghetti Junction. Right now it's thundering again and starting to rain, but when I actually drove in it was just a light drizzle. Schuyler called after me plaintively as I left. Awwww... » Monday, May 11, 2009
The Sunday Night Conspiracy
It's usually about not being able to fall asleep on Sunday nights, but not always—but there always seems to be a conspiracy about us getting any more than four hours sleep on a Sunday night. Case in point: We were in bed moderately ontime and I assume both fell asleep immediately, since I can't speak for James, and sometime after four I awoke with a dry throat. I managed to rouse enough saliva to keep from getting up, steadfastly refusing to look at the clock, thinking it was probably twenty minutes of six and I had only a few sleeping minutes left.
I was just about to fall back to sleep when there was a rumble of thunder. Then a second one. No dog. Good! RUMBLE! "Bark, bark, bark, bark!" Sigh. I finally looked at the clock. It was 4:45. Oh, good. Some more time to sleep if Wil will ever be quiet. James finally "barked" back and she went silent. I hit the snooze alarm twice and darned if I didn't fall the second time right into REM sleep: two pretentious voices psychologically analyzing a song in depth was on the radio when James walked in the room and asked "What's that?" I said, "Oh, some music show—check out what they're analyzing!" and "Escape" (the "Pina Colada" song) started playing! By the time I drove to work the clouds were in tatters, although the weather report indicated it was still raining south of town and there was a drizzle downtown. The best part of the ride was passing Cumberland Mall into the little hilly area amongst which office buildings are scattered: there was mist pooled in the hollows giving the area a dreamy quality. I'm wearing my new shoes and my feet feel stiff and regimented. At least these fit so I can wiggle my toes. I always remember my first week at school every year with new shoes. They were always suede Hush Puppies made of the softest leather and back then HP still made wide widths in small sizes (size 6), so they actually fit. Still, I had to wear Band-Aids on my small toes and on my heels for at least the first week or I would come home with hellacious blisters. And people wondered why I hated buying shoes! Ah, yes, and here it is thirteen hours after dinner last night and I'm still tasting pizza... » Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Crazy Roads
This morning was...surreal. This gas thing is getting out of hand. There's a Marathon station I pass in the morning; occasionally I have stopped there to get a couple of gallons to make sure I make it home and I have always been the only car there for gas (others have stopped, but they've run in for coffee or cigarettes). This morning, all the pumps are full and there's people waiting. Ditto the Shell station on Spring Road at Campbell.
Traffic was skittery. I always take I-75 south/I-85 north in the morning because trucks aren't allowed inside the perimeter unless they are delivering to or coming from a delivery location, and because on I-285 the equation of allthose18wheelers + nearlypitchdark = scary, but there were dozens of trucks on I-85 north this morning, I think because of the tractor-trailer fire at the intersection of I-85 and I-285 (otherwise known as "Spaghetti Junction" for its tangle of overpasses). Not to mention I was so sleepy that I'd forgotten to have my milk before I left. My stomach was growling so fiercely as I caught the occasional whiff of breakfast from an interstate-side restaurant that I was afraid it was going to leap out at the nearest McDonalds (and I hate McDonalds). The scent of pork chops from the OK Café nearly did me in. :-) Labels: commuting » Tuesday, July 08, 2008
There Oughta Be a Law
Believe me, there is. There are many of them. :-)
I've spent the last two days in an Appropriations Law refresher class. I would have preferred to have been working on the pile of purchase orders I have (sixty at last count, plus the ones I've been assigned but told not to do since they're going to be transferred to someone else). But the class was only going to be scheduled at this time, so we all had to take it. Much of it was bewildering, because they were saying we couldn't do things that I knew we weren't supposed to do anyway. Were there actually people out there who thought we could? But then I always am bewildered by people who deliberately do things wrong; it's my upbringing, I guess. I would no more pay for my daughter's wedding with a Government credit card (one of the actual cases!) than I would rob a bank. Unfortunately, I find Appropriation Law rather soporific, and it it was to the instructor's credit that he made the class interesting. He reminded me quite a bit of David Clennon's portrayal of Lee Silver in From the Earth to the Moon—if he was teaching geology instead of law, I could easily see him leading an expedition into a canyon looking for "context." :-) In any case, I couldn't doze off in class if I had wanted to: I was sitting right next to my branch chief! The only other non-remarkable thing about the past two days have been the annoying drivers I've run into. Monday morning I was sitting in the straight/right turn lane waiting for the light at South Cobb to change. The car behind me started beeping at me, evidently wanting to turn right. But I was going straight. So they cut around me and turned right from the left turn lane! On the way home ten hours later I was tailgated by a small SUV going through the exit at Brookwood; a very dangerous place to do so, since cars abruptly brake on the ramp and you don't want to be going too fast—I was almost rear-ended once at this same exit. This morning someone used the HOV—lane to pass me getting off the Brookwood ramp because I slowed down for the sharp curve. For cryin' out loud, guys, slow down already. » Monday, December 03, 2007
Trafficking in Frustration
The cold front came through last night, whipping the shades up and sending the dog in a frenzy of barking. When I woke up I was spoiling for a migraine, so I took something for it, went back to bed until seven, then started to work. I checked the traffic report before I left, but there was just the usual problems on I-285 east, nothing on I-75 South/I-85 North, the way I usually go.
However, twenty minutes later when I reached the freeway, there was Trouble in River City. Traffic was already clotting up and I saw a rescue squad in the distance. Must be an accident at Paces Ferry. Nuts. The radio traffic report wasn't saying anything about it. However, I was already abreast the exit for Mt. Paran Road when the next traffic sign reported that the accident was four miles ahead. No one would let me get over, so I inched, in the company of hundreds of fuming commuters, down to the next exit, two miles away. This took a half hour. However, I was able to get off at Paces Ferry and go down Northside Drive, which would eventually intersect with the freeway past the accident. By then the sun was full in my eyes and I couldn't see the southbound exit signs, passed the exit and had to turn around and come back. Gah. (By the time I exited at Paces Ferry, the traffic report had not only picked up the accident, but was saying that the backup went all the way to Wade Green Road, over ten miles away, and that the approximate commute time was seventy minutes. Yow!) Tonight there was a massive accident on I-285 Eastbound at Chamblee-Dunwoody. Same situation as this morning, three left lanes blocked. I thought about this morning as I made my way westbound, which was clotted as usual at Roswell Road and then at Northside Drive, but nothing unusual. It took me 35 minutes to get the twenty miles from work to the International Farmer's Market on Spring Road. It took me 35 more minutes to make it the remainder of the four miles home. Thirty of that was inching up to the intersection on Atlanta Road. From the top of the bridge I could see flashing red lights and some blue lights all the way down Atlanta Road going toward Windy Hill. I have no idea what was wrong, but after I crossed the bridge I distinctly got a quick whiff of natural gas. I wonder if the construction crew digging up the old shopping center for the new Jonquil Plaza broke a gas line? I sat there waiting at the light hoping something wouldn't explode while we were all sitting there trapped. To top it off, I went downstairs to get the wreath for the front door and plugged it in. Nothing. Will you tell me how a string of lights that worked perfectly for a month last year and which was working perfectly well on January 6 and was then stored in an indoor, climate-controlled closet downstairs suddenly dies when plugged in eleven months later? Okay, so I had this light tester I bought from Michael's...cool! Well, until I discovered you still had to pull the stupid bulbs out to test them. What's the use in that? It made no difference. According to the tester, we've got at least three bad bulbs and I have one, count 'em, one replacement. Well, here's something I can do: sit down and renew the car registrations online. Almost. I renewed James'. I couldn't do mine because I'd forgotten my car is three years old this year. It has to be inspected from now on. So I guess while James is at work on Saturday, I'll be getting the car inspected. I was even disappointed in a small thing: I was discussing with friends that although James had to work Saturday, it turned out his compensatory day off was Tuesday, my birthday, which I was taking off, and he was taking me out to eat at the Colonnade, which has the absolutely best turkey and dressing in the entire world. (You can keep your prime rib; I'll take the t&d at the Colonnade any day.) Except the Colonnade isn't open for lunch during the week anymore. ::sigh:: Maybe on Sunday? she asked hopefully. As Robert Hayes says in Airplane... :-) » Monday, October 22, 2007
The Amazing Mysterious Sound!
As has happened so many times this summer, the weather forecast was for showers. Because it's happened so many times without fruition, we ignored it.
So I was surprised to emerge from the bedroom this morning and hear something uncanny—it wasn't audible in the bedroom with two window fans and a C-PAP machine going—the sound of water rapping on the gutters and gurgling down the spouts! As much as we needed it, the sound made me wince, since rain turns commuters into raving maniacs anyway and it was still pitch dark. I was not disappointed, either. Rain should make people more careful. Instead they use the opportunity to display how many driving bad habits they have developed. God was with me as I accelerated getting on to the freeway, only to have to stop short to avoid the car in front of me: there was a car several lengths in front who had his flashers on and was going very slowly. Unfortunately the traffic left of me was going so quickly that there was almost no chance for me or the people around me to get around the disabled car and away from the exit-only ramp it was leading us to. Fortunately a gap emerged. Erratic rainy-day driving seems to be epidemic everywhere. It just seems worse in Atlanta metro traffic. » Monday, June 25, 2007
::CHEERS! CONFETTI TOSS!::
The bridge is finally open! Yayyyyyy!
[Final leg of long drive to work is turning right from Woodcock Drive onto Flowers Road and crossing a small bridge over North Peachtree Creek; from there it's an immediate right turn and then second left to my building. Bridge, of WPA vintage, has been being replaced since January by wider roadbed with sidewalks on either side. "Short detour" added five more minutes to commute. Still prefer the old bridge; it looked like it was part of a country road. Now it just looks like a curve in the freeway.] » Monday, June 11, 2007
::pant::
85°F again in my cubicle. It's hard to work and stay next to the fan at the same time. I can hardly breathe.
I don't think I've ever had a chance to ask any of the maintenance staff whether the vent over my cubicle is actually open. In all the times I've been calling about this problem, I've only seen someone once. The direct road to my building continues to be closed, although the road looks finished and I have seen construction vehicles drive on it. Do overpasses (it goes over a creek bed) have to "settle" a certain number of weeks? If they are keeping that road closed for something stupid, like they have to sod the side of the road or "make it look pretty," I'm going to scream. We've had to detour since January and it's getting really old, even only two days a week, and it's wasting gasoline to boot. |
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