Hazards of Driving

Well, it was that time of year again...or time of my life, rather.

I packed myself up, threw it all into the Monstrosity and headed back down the Alaskan Highway-- only I changed it up and instead of spending weeks on end (or so it seemed) mucking through Canada, I didn't bother trekking across the country and instead took a sharp dive southward and kept going till I hit...Texas.

I hate Texas. And not just because I spent a year living in a dirt hole. No, I just...dislike it strongly.

I'm currently suffering from culture shock. Not all that surprising considering where I came from. I always seem to suffer from culture shock, or rather reverse culture shock. Going back to where I came always throws me for a loop. When I get somewhere odd, the culture shock never really gets me. When I went to Scotland, I adjusted easily. It was when I came back that was hard. It took months for me to feel at ease again and not constantly thinking, "That's wrong..."

When I left the Dirt Hole all those moons ago and went back to Chicagoland, it was the same thing. I was overwhelmed by the cars, people, stop signs, speed limits and where I was. I grew up in the area. It's seared into my mind's eye to the point it's easy for me to call up areas and write stories about them without needing Google Maps. And yet, I drove around with my Texas plated car and got passed on suburban streets for going too slow (also known as the speed limit) and beeped at when I actually used stop signs.

You see, I forgot how the people of Chicagoland drove. While I loved them for their predictability  I'd forgotten their lack of use of speed limits and stop signs. After living in the dirt hole where it was cause for celebration when someone went the speed limite and you got a ticket when you failed to come to a stop for three seconds, it was jarring to realize I'd get run over if I ventured out onto the interstates of Illinois.

So, I didn't. I kept to the mean suburban streets and thanked God I had Texas plates.

When I arrived in Alaska, I don't remember finding things jarring. They were strange, but in a similar way Scotland was strange once I got over the jet lag. They drove fast during bad weather and slow during good weather. Generally speaking, Anchorage drivers were predictable and I never honestly feared for my life when I drove around the city. I drove around with ease and never one felt road rage or had the urge to announce I was a FIB, don't mess with me. (This happened often in the Dirt Hole...)

I honestly can't say that during the times we visited the Chicago area during our three years in Anchorage, I feared for my life whilst in the car. I even drove a few times...I never wanted to scream, never wanted to hide or close my eyes and pray.

San Antonio....oh, how I hate you and your love affair with highways/interstates/access roads.

One thing I learned during my few visits to SA during my tenure in the Dirt Hole was this: SA drivers are not predictable.

Honestly. You never have any idea what the hell they might do at any given point. They go slow for no reason, change lanes without warning, fail to look when they merge and kind of just...scare the living crap out of me. The lanes are also extremely...narrow. And while they know how to paint lines (something no one in Anchorage has gotten the hang of for unknown reasons), sometimes they just don't paint lines and the road is SUPER WIDE and you've got no idea how many lanes a road has.

And I have only drive through SA once in my life. In a small s40. And I only drove on the interstate and never had to get off.

You can't get anywhere without using the interstates and loops and access roads here. It is confusing, annoying and frankly frightening because you never know what someone is going to do. And most people have HUGE trucks.

Granted, I've got a huge truck like vehicle, but still.

I refuse to drive. Pilot Boy keeps mocking me, as I love civilization and hate being in the middle of nowhere, and yet I'm a hermit.

A well dressed hermit who loves hangers, but still a hermit. Even more so now that we've only got one car and I refuse to drive it.

Anywhere.

I'll drive when I get to where I'm actually going, which is in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. Till then, I'll sit around a pine for Anchorage and the mean suburban streets of Chicagoland (which are way less scary than the road system of SA).

Last night, I tried to think of amusing Christmas stories I could share in the days leading up to the holiday.

I came up with nothing. I am so average and boring it was not even funny. ::hear crickets::

As a child, my Christmas's were drama free. I acted like a normal child. I got up super early, woke everyone else up and we opened gifts,  one year while it was still dark out. As I got older, I got up later. And it'd be a while before we opened gifts. Then as I became a teenager, I became self aware, so I began doing my hair the night before so I'd look wonderful in the morning opening shots. Which is kind of strange, as I did not own real pjs till I was 22. Nothing remotely exciting happened at the holidays except for warm fuzzy feelings. At some point, my dad would get mad and yell, but as we got older (by we I mean, me mostly) we figured out how to deal with dad better to make him warm and fuzzy.

For awhile, after Christmas Eve service, we'd look at Christmas lights and then watch "A Christmas Carol" from the 1930s and then I'd go to bed. Then they stopped showing "A Christmas Carol" and I was sad. And we stopped driving around at lights. And I forgot.

The strangest Christmas I had was in Edinburgh, Scotland. My friend John (he has no nickname, I am sorry and I all ready have too many Js in my life) invited me to his uncle's house for the holidays. I was actually planning on wasting away in my dorm room since E had abandoned me for the holidays and our plans to spend Christmas in the South of France (which just sounded cool to us). On Christmas Eve we road the train to Edinburgh and met his uncle. (Whose name I cannot remember. Sorry.) We went to his house, met the rest of the rag tag group and ate soup. In the morning there was a socking (seriously it was a stocking sock) at the foot of the bed. I was like, WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM? It was filled with very random objects. And it was clear the most random ones were mine. Presents time was awkward because no one had gotten me anything. So they wrapped up random things for me. I got a CD and a jar of apple jam. They made us go for a walk through the hills. I learned my mint coat wasn't wind proof. We ate dinner and then I spent two hours standing in the hallway talking to my family and J (see, how confusing if I had two Js in this story?) Afterwards, I spent two hours playing with the little girl of the house till John threw up. I spent the rest of the trip worrying I was going to throw up. Boxing Day was dreary and we took the bus back to Glasgow because all I wanted to do was go home. We got home, got to the store before it closed and ate ham sandwiches.

It was the oddest holiday ever. I felt like I was on the outside looking in the whole time. Like I was invading. I had never till that point spent the holiday with anyone except my own family. I knew I'd be okay with Pilot Boy when I spent Thanksgiving with his family and I didn't feel like I was invading. I was picked on the whole time for not eating enough and I thought I was going to explode because of the lack of planning and never knowing left from right, but I have learned to deal with that aspect. I feel at ease with Pilot Boy's family...they also never gave me a CD of someone I had never heard of or an open jam jar because they felt sorry for me. I would have preferred to just stand there and stare at my feet than open presents when they clearly had not been expecting me. I didn't bring them anything.I honestly did not mind not having anything to open. I was more than happy to free the Bratz dolls for the little girl. It was like opening twenty presents just to free them from their packaging.

The first year we had Basil Bea Dog, I was paranoid she'd attack the tree. We got her at the start of December, before we put the tree up I think. I was worried she'd get into the tree and gifts. She was more interested in socks, ear plugs, pin cushions and bras. She never showed interest in the tree or the presents under it. She never has.  She ignores the tree for the most part, as I assured my parents last Christmas. Basil had no interest in their tree and did not knock it over because it was no in front of a window. I'm pretty sure that is why it fell over this year....it blocked her view of the window.

As for the gifts, Basil has no interest in them unless they are for her. Her presents always smell good to her. Last year, she got REALLY EXCITED when we opened presents. She tired to help destroy boxes. She also thought the rolls were for her to play with, so she'd take them to Allin. Oddly, they were presents for him, so she brought them to him. This year, the only box she has shown much interest in were the two boxes containing her gifts.  Grandpa got her some rawhide bones and my aunt and uncle got her cookie (I opened them early for her. Well I tried to have her open it, but she was too excited.)

This Christmas I'm going to friend's houses for holiday parties. One told me to bring a swim suit because they have a hot tub. After I hung up the phone I was like, "AHHHH!!!!!! I don't think I can get my butt into my suit!" Plus, hello, it is winter. I don't even have a razor blade. TMI? More than likely. Anyways, I knew I should have ordered that one piece suit with the control panels in it...

Containers of Presents

Holiday season means boxes.  Boxes are usually addressed. So you see said box and are like, "OMG! THEY SENT ME A PRESENT! THEY REMEMBERED ME!"

Then, since the invention of the internet, you get random unmarked boxes. By unmarked, they are from places like Amazon, Kohls, Bed Bath and Beyond or Target. You stare at the box and think, "I did not order that....or did?"

So, duh, you run into the house and rip it open and then stare at the object inside and think, "What the hell?"

I have done this a few times, especially since moving away from home. A few times I stare at the thing for a while, then remember there are these things called recipts and they usually tell me who paid for the item. Usually these types of boxes come from my mother. Or brother. Or my father. Okay, I could have just typed my "Family" there, couldn't I? Oh well.

I got a box like that today. I came home from finishing my shopping for Pilot Boy (YAY SALES!) and saw something on the front stoop. I was like, "OH MY GOD. THERE IS A PACKAGE ON THE FRONT STEP!" I figured it was Hubert coming back from his extended vacation in Georgia. (Herbert is a laptop that was parted with Pilot Boy in Georgia. Pilot Boy hated him so much (Herbert, but Georgia) that he simply decided to leave Herbert there and took Hewie (my laptop) and got me a MAC, who is nameless. Sorry MAC. Anyways, the other day, Pilot Boy announced Herbert was returning, as the person/people/place that had Herbert was like, "Hey, we've got your laptop. We're going to send that to you now." BTW, they wouldn't' send it to him before, which is why he was like 'WTF, I am buying a MAC.")

Seeing I live in frozen Alaska, I was like, "OMG IT IS FROZEN!"

So, after falling down the driveway in the Monstrosity (I had to use the 4Wheel drive to get IN the garage) I ran to get the package, only to find Kohls has sent me something.

"I didn't order anything from Kohls..." And if I did I would not have addressed it as PILOT BOY IRELAND SCOTT. Seeing it is that time of year, I was like, OH CHRISTMAS PRESENT!

Upon arrival inside, it was indeed a present, so thank you present giver.

However, one time, I got something and I had no clue who sent it to me (this has happened twice, but the story I am going to share isn't creepy, like the red ball incident of 2006.)

I was living in Glasgow. It was September, and I was still dating/not dating/having no idea what was going on with Not Boyfriend. (That is what I call him.)  L and I were walking up the stairs after getting our mail and I suddenly realized I had no idea who had sent me this small box and pen. I opened the box while we walked up the NEVER ENDING STAIRS OF DEATH. I was like, "Its a bracelet?"

"Yes, it is. Why are you asking me if its a bracelet? Who is it from?" L asked.
"I don't know. There is no note." I shoveled the papers in my hands.
"Do you think its from Not Boyfriend as a way to say sorry?" L asked.
"I don't know."

I kept looking at the receipt, trying to find who it was from, but it didn't have a bill to address on it. It was a very lovely bracelet too. And it had a matching fancy pen with it too. As we neared the fourth floor where we lived (Or the third floor as it was called), I was still trying to figure out who had sent it to me, because Not Boyfriend would never do anything like that. (Hence the Not Boyfriend.) As we were nearing our rooms, I finally found (in micro-print) at the bottom a note that read: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IRELAND! LOVE, MOM

"My mom sent it to me!" I said, feeling relieved.
"Why do you sound so relieved?" L asked. "Wouldn't it have been sweet if Not Boyfriend had sent it?"
"Its from my mom. For my birthday," I announced. "Plus, Not Boyfriend would never send me anything. I'm pretty sure I only exist in the moment the phone rings."
L stared at me funny for a moment and then said, "Your birthday is in November. Did your mom forget?"

Later, after asking my mom about it, she said because the egg poacher she had ordered me from Amazon was taking forever (it never reached me, it went to Australia or something?) she ordered the present early, to make sure it arrived.

To this day I am VERY thankful she sent it to me and Not Boyfriend, mostly because it would have been so out of character for Not Boyfriend and by that point in time, I was so confused by him, him doing something like that would have made my head explode.

I still wear the bracelet and announce to people, "LOOK WHAT MY MOM GOT ME!" The pen, though, tragically, dried up from too much use. I am serious. It was such an awesome pen, I used it all up!

Back on the Mac Wagon

When I was born, there was an Apple computer in my house (or I think there was, there was one when I was a baby, I know that). I have always lived in a house with an Apple computer. I had no clue how to use a Windows computer till I was in high school. I only learned because my dad bought one in case he had to join the real world again and find a job. (He did not, but he did have to know how to use a Windows Machine.)

I went off to college without a computer. I don't remember why we all thought I did not need a computer, but for some unknown reason, we all thought I could just use the computer labs. Least to day, the first week I was there, most of the computer labs were closed and after they were open, it kind of sucked going to the computer lab and saving things to hard disks (yes, we still used disks back then). I began my campagin for a Mac. I told my dad I wanted an iPod.

Yes, I wanted an iPod. However, to me the iPod was the pod like Mac I had seen on the website. He wrote me back asking if I had meant the iMac. He sent along a picture. And I said, "Yeah, the pod one."

He was confused on why I did not want a laptop. I do not remember why I did not want a laptop either. I wanted the pod computer. So, for parents weekend, they appeared with the pod computer and I loved it dearly.

Then I went to Scotland. Pod (later named Milo) and I could not travel to Scotland as we traveled to Beloit. (Milo traveled in a clothes basket. I am serious. He traveled in a clothes basket surrounded by blankets and sheets and my robe. He traveled like that to St. Louis and then Del Rio. He traveled without the basket to Alaska, but was packed in with his blankets and sheets.) Naturally, i wanted a MacBook to take to Scotland. However, my father could not fathom paying for a MacBook that I'd use for two years and need a new one. Somehow, he talked me into getting a Dell computer with the promise of getting me a MacBook for graduation.

He claims not to remember that promise. Least to say, I did not get a MacBook for graduation. They gave me a car which they had all ready given me. They later gave me the same car after I got married. Yes, they gave me the same car three different times. Anyways, so the Dell Laptop remained me with till this past winter when, poor Jess got very old. I got him in 2003. He lived to 2009! It was much longer than anyone thought he would live, as he was always kind of...special. He went to Scotland and behaved (other than not wanting to import a McFly CD and then refusing to connect to the University internet...) but once he came home, he began to act funny. He basically acted like a moody teenager for the rest of his life. My dad rebuilt Jess a few times, added a new hardrive and memory at one point when Jess refused to run Photoshop (a new harddrive and memory was cheaper than a new laptop at the time.) I finally decided Jess had to go when he REFUSED to run Photoshop and I needed to run Ireland Scott Designs. I ended up having to use my brother's computer to edit my photos and build my banners. Jess, it became clear, was not up to the challenge of running anything in general. The weekend it took him three days to back himself, it was clear new computer was needed.

After much research and looking at laptops, I gave in and decided I'd just get another Windows laptop, as the kind I wanted in windows was 200 dollars cheaper than a MacBook. So I got Hewie the HP Laptop. He crashed and died six months ago and went off to HP Land to be fixed. He returned and I found out I am missing a ton of stuff I thought was backed up, but it vanished into the nether world. Major sad face.

Pilot Boy came with his laptop (Merv) and Merv kinda died around the same time Jess retired. Merv did not all out die, just refused to operate with a battery, thus he was usable to be a laptop. Merv was also super slow, so we got Pilot Boy a net book after he decided he really did not want an iPad. Pilot Boy then parted with his net book (Hubert) when the backpack Hubert was in was driven off without Pilot Boy in the state of Georgia. Now, because of Pilot Boy's job, he leaves a lot and needs a laptop when he leaves. So, we once again began looking for a new computer.

At some point, Pilot Boy decided he liked Macs and did not hate them. He decided we needed a Mac in our lives (even though he hates iTunes). From a price point, an iMac made more sense than another laptop, as in reality, we do not need two laptops. So, I told him he could take Hewie off with him flying all over the world (it'll be an exciting life for Hewie), and I'd keep the iMac with me here at home.

The only thing, I don't think this new version of the iMac will travel well in a clothes basket....

cannot forget, refuse to regret...

Maroon 5, I just realized, have played a rather large part of my life. Large part meaning their songs are accessories in events of my life. And I just realized it. I am serious. I am currently sitting around watching FUSE and the Maroon 5 Take Over special they are playing at the moment. I just finished watching an interview with Adam Levine and Jess Carmichael. (I think that was his name.) And it just kind of hit me that I think Songs About Jane is the most listened to disk I own. I am serious.

I bought Songs About Jane while I was in Scotland. I went to a music shop on Byers Road I think after I was Done. (Why is that capitalized? Well, because I was Done and it was a big deal. And in being Done, I was through with the strange, made no sense to me not relationship I was having at the time. I was just Done.) I went to the music shop to buy the McFly CD. I had been hearing the McFly song on the radio every morning and decided I liked the idea of British surf rock. I was standing in the music shop and was all ready holding the McFly CD and was staring at the Maroon 5 CD and thought, "Hey, I'm Done, I'm buying both and a latte."

So I bought it and a latte and went to lunch.

The McFly CD wouldn't import on to my computer (Jess, the Evil Laptop), but the Maroon 5 CD did. I ended up importing it and listening to it in one go and then watching the music videos that were on it. I had all ready bought three songs by Maroon 5 off of iTunes when I was back in the states, as "She Will Be Loved" was the theme of the past summer. I ended up falling in love with almost all the tracks on that disk and "Through With You" became one of the most listened to song on my iTunes on Jess the Evil Laptop. For years. I bet if I opened it up now, it'd still in the top ten. The next summer, the disk was ALWAYS in my disk player in my car. It was always in the car and when I would re-discover it I would stick it in and it'd be the player until my husband removed it. When I had the s40 with its 6 CD changer, it was ALWAYS in the player and I was sad when we got the 4Runner, because it only had one spot for CDs.

Today, I realized, while in college I bought bought almost anything Maroon 5 had put out, I had not bought anything since. I had stared at their last CD a lot, but had never bought it as it always was 13.99 and I just never had 13.99 when I saw it.

I have 13.99. iTunes is also no longer dumb. I today, I finally bought their last CD they put out, but did not pre-Order their next disk. I need to hear a few more song before I jump onto the next disk.

Songs About Jane is an awesome disk and if you do not own it, you totally should. But that is just my opinion. I tend to think about various place in Glasgow, Scotland when I hear it, so maybe that is why I like it so much. "Through With You" tends to remind me of the stairway in the Adam Smith Building. "Tangled" for some unknown reason reminds me of crossing the street from Kelvingrove Park to University Ave. "Not Coming Home" reminds me of my dorm room. "This Love" reminds me of sitting in that same dorm room with L and watching the music video with her and her informing me Adam was hot. "She Will be Loved" will always remind me, not of Glasgow, but of Galena, IL, as that was where I first heard it and began to cry while sitting waiting to go somewhere with my family. During my senior year of college I decided I wanted "The Sun" to be the first dance at my wedding (I did not have dancing at my wedding, but the music play list I had made to play during dinner had it on there.)

Certain lines of the songs really stuck with me during this point in my life. Almost every song on there I felt was pertinent to that point in my life. Not many CDs can do that, in all honesty. The McFly CD was just fun music. The Muse CD I bought while I was over there, while much loved by me, did not fit perfectly into my line of thought. (Other than "The Small Print" and maybe "Falling Away With You.")

That is all. You may now go about your won lives again.