Heads Up: No Parking Allowed in Bambi Court

New Signage for Bambi Court (07 Dec 2011)

I came home to a new sign on my court yesterday.  I had wondered why the back corner of a neighbor’s yard had spray paint and yellow flags stuck in it.  Now I know.  My husband had quite the adventure yesterday dealing with our City‘s employees, ranging from the Public Works Department guy who attempted to hand-deliver an undated letter to our Rottweilers and the Police Department who seemed conveniently unaware of what the ‘left  hand’ at the Public Works Department was doing to the ‘right hand’ of law enforcement.

But let me back up a bit.

***

View from Sign Facing Back Towards Our House

Terry had left the front door open, but the screen door (with the glass recently installed instead of the screen to help weather proof the front entry) because he was watching the Public Works employees install the sign across the street from our house.  He went back downstairs, either to the band room to check something on the computer, or downstairs to the basement to the laundry, when one of the Public Works guys attempted to attach the aforementioned undated letter to the front door.  Roxy and Apollo definitely had something to say about that, in their usual loud and assertive manner.  Terry hobbled back upstairs to rescue the guy and accept the letter.  He wasn’t up to answering Terry’s questions, so my husband paid a visit to the Police Department at City Hall (just a couple of blocks south of where we live).

BambiCourtAerialPhoto
Bambi Court - Before
BambiCourtAerialPhotoNoParkingZone
Bambi Court - After

Terry asked the receptionist for the Police Department about the new no parking zone, showing her the letter he had just received. She was not aware of the change. She joked that she had not receive that e-mail (similar to the old ‘didn’t get that memo’ line). Terry also confirmed he had not received an e-mail. She sent him across the street to the building that houses both the Lansing Community Library and the Public Works Department.  He finally got clarification of exactly where the ‘no parking zone’ in our court started and stopped (see before and after aerial photos above – courtesy Google Maps and MS Paint).  Basically, you can safely park to the south of my driveway and directly across the street from there on the east side of the ‘straight’ part of our court.

For added drama, last night happened to be band rehearsal night, so I rearranged all the vehicles to accommodate the return of the percussionist and his drum kit.   The Firebird shivered out of the garage and huddled behind the vanpool van, both of which took up the entire left hand (south side) of my driveway, leaving the garage and the right hand side open for loading and unloading of equipment.  The Bonneville hunkered down in the yard under the pin-oak next to the van and the Firebird.

After juggling the cars, I gave Roxy and Apollo some attention before sitting down to read the letter.  I snorted at the sentence claiming they took ‘the initiative to post the areas, with confidence that the benefit to residents outweighs any inconvenience’ (see link to full letter above for context).  I can understand the City’s concern with respect to snow removal.  Last winter, we had an unusual amount of snow fall, more than I can remember going clear back to the 70s.  And, our court hosted an uninvited guest for several months (see nearly buried white pickup in photo below). Yet most of the year (ten months at least) I don’t need to worry about snow removal or ice accumulation.

Groundhog Day 2011 Blizzard Cleanup

Even if the white pickup truck had not taken up residence on our court last winter, the operator of the snow plow still managed to gouge a portion of my yard not a part of the circular court, and where no one dares to park (because it’s too close to the stop sign as you exit Bambi Court):

Groundhog Day 2011 Blizzard Cleanup and Yard Gouging

So I resolved to myself to take the letter with me to work today, where I can easily scan it and convert it to a searchable PDF file format.  After scanning the letter, I went searching around on the City of Lansing’s website and found the e-mail address of the Director of the Public Works Department.  I wrote down several questions I had thought of during the commute to work this morning and quickly composed an e-mail to him asking for a response at his earliest convenience.  Here are the questions I posed in my e-mail:

  • Was a public meeting held to discuss this change to the parking policy as respects cul-de-sacs in the City of Lansing?
  • If there was a meeting, was public notice posted? If yes, where (newspaper, website, etc.)
  • Was a special effort made to contact those who would be most affected by the policy change (namely anyone living on a cul-de-sac)?
  • Where are the minutes from said meeting (if it occurred)?
  • How many cul-de-sacs were affected by this parking policy change? Please list them.

His response, while brief, came in a timely fashion (within thirty to forty-five minutes of receipt).

Thanks for your e-mail.  We are in the process of ordering supplemental plates for the No Parking signs that will add the legend “During Snow.”  The decision was made based on the history of difficulties as reported by the operators.  Thirteen locations were identified.

Public Works Director, City of Lansing

I don’t know why I expected to get actual answers to my questions, but I am encouraged that citizens’ voices have been heard as a results of this tempest in a tea pot.  I can only infer from the brief response above that no public meeting was held (or even thought of for that matter).  The City employees (i.e. snow plow operators) unilaterally ‘voted’ these parking zones into existence based on past problem areas.  At least a caveat is in the works, but for the time being, the parking availability in my little corner of the world is in limbo.

If you stop by for a visit, please don’t hesitate to park in my driveway or along the street to the south of my driveway.  Just don’t park in the obvious spot in front of my house next to the mail box, at least until the second new sign is tacked on to the existing new sign to limit the no parking times to snowy conditions.

Thanks to the City of Lansing for this early Christmas gift.  It will make holiday gatherings so much more enjoyable.

Prayer Request

Yesterday, my husband received discouraging news from his doctor.  The sort of news, when piled on top of all his other health issues, that makes you instantly angry, scared and depressed.  We know more than we knew last week, but we know less than we need to know to deal rationally with the situation.  Now a specialist is needed and more tests, all of which will not occur fast enough to suit either of us, especially with the delays in scheduling that the normally joyful holiday season will inflict on us. Just when you need it most, patience and peace flee before the storm of doubt and uncertainty.

So, I’m sending out an appeal to family and friends to prayer for healing and comfort for my husband.

Healing Prayer

Dear Lord of Mercy and Father of Comfort,

You are the One I turn to for help in moments of weakness and times of need.  I ask you to be with my husband during this illness.  Psalm 107:20 says that you send out your Word and heal.  So then, please send your healing Word to my husband.  In the name of Jesus, the Great Physician, drive out all infirmity and sickness from his body.

Oh Lord, I ask that you turn this weakness into strength, this suffering into compassion, this sorrow into joy, and this pain into comfort for others.  May my husband trust in your goodness and hope in your faithfulness, even in the midst of this suffering.  Let him be filled with patience and joy in your presence as he waits for your healing touch.

Please restore my husband to full health, dearest Father.  Remove all fear and doubt from his heart by the power of your Holy Spirit.  And may you, Lord, be glorified through his life.  As you heal and renew my husband, Lord, may he bless and praise you.

All of this I pray in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ.

Amen.

15 And the prayer that is said with faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will heal that person. And if the person has sinned, the sins will be forgiven. 16 Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so God can heal you. When a believing person prays, great things happen.

James 5:15-16 (New Century Version)

To Occupy Christmas or Not?

Hallmark Lobby Christmas Tree (with the Mayor's Christmas Tree in the background)

I drive a vanpool from Lansing to downtown, midtown and the Plaza areas of Kansas City, Missouri every weekday.  My final stop, before heading to my own work place, is Crown Center, the ‘home’ of Hallmark Cards.  As you can see from the slightly blurry cellphone photo I took this morning, the decorations at the world headquarters for Hallmark simply exude the Spirit of Christmas.  I need this extra immersion for Christmas cheer to confront the gauntlet of bland and vaguely wintery decorations my building lobby sports.  I left the house without my red and green ball Christmas tree ornaments, so I can’t ‘occupy’ the decorations today.   And I have my uncle to thank for that ‘Occupy Christmas’ idea, thanks to a comment he posted to my post yesterday about the prevalence of unholiday decorations littering the lobby.

For the entire drive in this morning, I kept thinking of picket sign slogans I could hand paint for such an occupation, such as:  “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” or “Put Christ Back in Christmas” or “The Cross (X) Marks the Spot” and so on.  Rather than being the 99% we could be (and are) 100% loved by Him.  I know I’ll be saying “Merry Christmas” rather than “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings” for the next thirty or so days (until Epiphany anyways).

I’m also curious about the decorations in the lobby of your workplace buildings.  Snap a photo with your cell phone and comment with the link to participate in this unofficial and informal survey of corporate expressions of Christmas (or unHoliday) cheer.

Return of the unHolidays

 
unHoliday Decorations II
I returned to work today after a long Thanksgiving break.  As I approached the elevators, I became concerned that a new form of fungus had usurped our sedate lobby ferns.   Then I remembered.  The building must have hired the same interior designer from last year’s decorations.  I am tempted to scrounge through my Christmas decorations at home and bring in the largest brightest red and green balls to hang clandestinely among the bleak colorless concoction displayed above.
I’m getting depressed just looking at this picture.  Ugh.

Lost Leonids

Sunset
Sunset 14 Nov 2011

Although this week has been chock full of fantastic sunrises and sunsets, the wind and clouds have hampered my ability to view the famed Leonid meteor shower.  With the sun rising and setting during my daily commute, I have few safe opportunities to snap a successful photograph.  So I just enjoy the eye candy while avoiding the cars around me as I drive into the sun (except for the first or last ten miles of my commute which is along a north-south corridor between Bonner Springs and Lansing, Kansas).

On a whim, last night after meeting my dad at a local eating establishment for a quick birthday dinner (not the official one, but a quickly arranged one to get his freshly baked bread into his hands), I stepped out into my backyard and looked up (as you’ll recall from my earlier post, I always look up when I exit a building).  Much to my surprise and delight I saw a prominent shooting star streak across directly overhead from east to west, leaving a trail like a laser beam across the sky for a second or so.  I immediately ran in the house and told Terry what I’d seen, then cranked up the laptop to see if I still had hope of seeing more of the Leonid meteor shower that night.

The Leonid meteor shower peaks the night of November 17/18, although its shooting stars will have to battle a nearby Last Quarter Moon after midnight. Astronomy: Roen Kelly

I logged onto Astonomy magazine‘s website and found a nice graphic that confirmed I still had time to view some more meteors.  I tried to force myself to stay awake until the moon rose, but read myself to sleep (again) around 11:30 p.m.  My husband woke me up in the middle of the night, but the swiftly scudding clouds obscured all but the glow of the moon.  No sight of Mars, Regulus, Denebola or any shooting stars seemed likely.  Naturally, I fell back asleep, dreaming of clear, dark skies next year.

My Least Favorite Day of the Year, Yet the Last Day of My Favorite Month and Season

I dread the last day of October, probably about as much as I look forward to the second day of October (being my natal day).  All Hallow’s Eve, commonly compressed to Halloween (or Hallowe’en as I prefer to render it), leaves me cold and exasperated, at least as it’s hyped by the media and the movies.

Case in point:  My husband and I slummed to the Lifetime Movie Network late yesterday afternoon in search of a non-horror movie to watch.  In all the years we’ve been cable and now satellite television subscribers, we rarely (if ever) watched that particular channel.

I can expect to be invaded by children just a few minutes after I arrive home from work this evening.  The City of Lansing stated the official hours for the invasion on their website and Facebook page to be between six and nine o’clock.  Usually, the teenagers (and sometimes a few college students) trickle through past that time, but they can have the most interesting costumes.  My daughter, a senior at UNT in Denton, Texas, dressed up as Flo (of Progressive fame) this year, even performing her Opera On Tap selection in it.

I don’t have many fond memories from childhood of Halloween.  Since I grew up in the country, a half-mile from my nearest neighbor, I can count on one hand the times I trick-or-treated, because my mom had to drive us into town (Leavenworth was 10-15 miles away from where we lived).  At least our local church held an annual fall festival for the children, which I did enjoy.

I do remember watching ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown‘ annually.  I wonder if I’ve already missed the broadcast?  Or do they even both to re-broadcast these old classic animated holiday specials from the 60s?  A quick check at TVGuide.com confirms my theory that either I’ve missed it or it wasn’t aired at all this year.  Oh, well, I guess I could watch it on my laptop through Hulu or some other similar site.

The true horror story haunting my sleepless nights concerns my large oak tree in my front yard.  Even though I’ve raked ten bags worth of leaves and acorn shells, the oak tree still sports nearly all of it’s mostly green foliage.  I’m looking forward to the windy day forecast for tomorrow, which I hope will strip the branches bare and I can finally put the nail in the coffin of that particular tedious autumn chore.

To Scream or Keep Silent, That Is the Dying Question

Scream by Edvard Munch
Scream by Edvard Munch

September went into a tailspin about a week ago.  I can’t remember the last time I actually received personal good news from family or friends.  Death or dying and depression crowd around me, jostling for position and attention, blotting out my surroundings: beautiful sunrises and sunsets, crystal clear night skies bursting with twinkling stars, perfect weather any southern California native would drool over.

I woke up this morning after having tossed and turned and lost the skirmish with my sheet and pillows.  Apollo couldn’t wait to jump up and greet me with a wagging tail and unconditional canine adoration.  Roxy slept on, sprawled on the floor, oblivious to anything but her dreams of breakfast.  I rubbed the crusty, dried sleep from my eyes, slipped on my reading glasses and woke up my Nook to see what had happened in the wider world while I pretended to sleep.

I soon read the sad, tragic news of the death of Sara Douglass (aka Sara Warneke).  I discovered this astounding Aussie female fantasy writer a half dozen years ago and loved everything she wrote, especially Threshold, the first novel I found written by her.   As I perused the various postings on Twitter and Facebook about her passing, I found her blog post from March 2010 she entitled “The Silence of the Dying.”  I took a few minutes to read the entire post, after which I couldn’t help but shiver, especially after the seemingly prophetic nature of the most recent Doctor Who episode “Closing Time” wherein the Doctor seems to fall apart (emotionally) as he approaches the day of his death (flashback to the start of this season and the “Impossible Astronaut“).  He even utters some dialog containing the words ‘silence’ and ‘dying.’

After reading Sara’s thoughts on how modern society sticks it’s head in the sand with respect to death (and the dying), I pondered my own situation.  Part of my September tailspin centers on a sharp worsening in my health.  Par for the medical course, I’m running the gauntlet of various tests, procedures and eventually a biopsy (scheduled for mid-October), all of which amounts to endless waiting for results and the accompanying anxiety.  Just as Sara describes in her blog post, I prefer to keep silent, as I don’t want to appear ‘weak’ by complaining.  Of course, at this stage of the ‘game’ I’m not in much pain or discomfort (not compared to what Sara or other cancer victims endure).  And I must put up a good front for my husband, one of the chronically ill routinely maligned or ignored by modern day society.  He needs me to be ‘strong’ and I will remain so as cheerfully as I can.

Normally, I look forward to the beginning of October and the advent of autumn with peace and joy in my heart.  Of course, the fact that my birthday occurs the day after the first of October wouldn’t have anything to do with that would it?  But this year, no birthday cake with sputtering scores of candles will great me.  Instead, my husband and I will travel south, to his home town, to console and support his life-long friend and his wife in the sudden and unexpected loss of her mother, so soon after his mother’s death.  Oh, and their dog died last week in the midst of all this family tragedy.

I am full of unanswered questions and troublesome, uncomfortable thoughts today, ones that I wish I had the courage to shout out on a street corner to the self-absorbed oblivious passersby.  Rather than deprive a homeless person of their accustomed spot, I will jump up on my bloggity soap box instead.

From a Christian worldview, I can understand some of the silence surrounding death and dying.  Jesus conquered the grave, therefore, it follows, that we can sweep this whole messy business of dying under the proverbial rug.  (Yes, I’m being sarcastic).  Yet, even Jesus wept (and raised Lazarus from the grave).  Jesus also suffered, but not silently, and died, nearly alone, on a cross we nailed him to, at a crossroads dung heap outside Jerusalem.  Two thousand years later, we’ve sanitized and compartmentalized dying, hiding it from ourselves so we can ignore the writing on our own walls.

I ask that you stop for a moment and spend time, yes, that very precious commodity you can never, ever get back, with a friend or family member who is dying.  Don’t send flowers, or stuffed animals or Hallmark cards.  Give them comfort.  Don’t expect them to put you at ease about their situation.  Embrace the truth.  For you know, it’s not ‘if’ we’re going to die, it’s when.  We’re all dying.  And I, for one, will not go silently into the night.

Dog Day Doldrums

Mid-August usually simmers, steeping the Midwest in heat and humidity; yet we’ve been graced with temperatures in the 80s and relatively low humidity.   Daily (or nightly) thunderstorms greened up the lawn, found a leak in my new roof (or old chimney) and delayed the second major home improvement project to replace our disintegrating driveway.

My daughter and her boyfriend fled the persistent Texas drought and constant triple-digit temperatures to bask on the beaches of the Bahamas this week.  They returned to the Heartland yesterday, making a brief layover at KCI in the early evening.  She called us as we were driving to a friend’s 50th birthday party.  No word yet if they made it back to Texas (but I’m assuming they did and were just too tired to call).

Roxy between Royna and Derek
Roxy between Royna and Derek

Roxy, one of our Rottweilers, made a trip to the vet this week, ostensibly to have a stubborn tick removed from her inner left thigh (and also for some advice for her mobility as she ages … she’s over seven or eight years old now).  Terry and I found the ‘tick’ Sunday evening.  We tried several times to remove it, but could not find the head or legs (only the ‘body’).  The vet got a chuckle when he explained that what we thought was a tick was actually a skin tab … it just looked a lot like a tick.  I really should have put my reading glasses on Sunday evening and saved poor Roxy the abuse.

Looking east/northeast from Parallel and 110th near the Legends.
Looking east/northeast from Parallel and 110th near the Legends.

I only got to ride in the van one day this week.  I took Monday off, rode Tuesday and then drove the van the rest of the week.  I saw some fantastic sunrises and tried to snap a few photos with my cell phone (while driving).  As we near the autumnal equinox, the sunrise coincides (inconveniently for eastbound drivers) with our commute from Leavenworth to Kansas City.  By the time we reach Parallel or State Avenue, the sun sits just above the horizon, so a bit of cloud camouflage eases the eye strain and makes driving safer.  Finally, after nearly ten days of driving a loaner van, the vanpool returned our van to us from the repair shop.  I opted to swap the vans Friday morning after dropping off the other two riders at Hallmark.  I got almost all the way to the Plaza before I realized I’d left my cell phone in the loaner van.  The guard at the KCATA garage probably thinks I’m blonde or something.

Jupiter, to the left of the Waning Moon
Jupiter, to the left of the Waning Moon

I missed the Perseid meteor shower, like most of the rest of the United Stats, thanks to a full moon (and hazy clouds or even thunderstorms).  My husband sat outside one night this week, but he reported the moon lit up the atmosphere so much, he could hardly see the brightest stars.  In fact, he had trouble finding the constellation Cassiopeia, normally very easy to spot as it looks like a W or an M (depending on it’s current rotational position around Polaris).  I did spy the waning moon one morning approaching Jupiter and snapped a photo with my cell phone since I was headed to the van and running late (so couldn’t setup the good camera on a tripod for a more professional-looking amateur photo).   Saturday morning (early early early), if the clouds had been absent, would have shown Jupiter within five degrees of an even thinner moon.

Sunset Thur 18 Aug 2011
Sunset Thur 18 Aug 2011

Wednesday night, WolfGuard auditioned a drummer to replace the drummer/lead singer who recently moved to New Mexico to pursue better employment opportunities.  Thursday night, Terry and I ventured into North Kansas city to the other Sears store (as opposed to the one down south on Metcalf).  Sears seems to be the sole remaining tenant of the dying Antioch Center shopping mall.   We’re still wrangling with Sears over a refrigerator we purchased in May, so we went looking at different, hopefully better models.  We also stopped at two office supply shops to look at shredders, during which a beautiful sunset occurred and once again I only had my cell phone camera with me (sigh).

We wrapped up the week spending some time celebrating the life of a good friend at his 50th birthday party.  We had a great time visiting with old friends and heckling the over-the-hill dude.  I’ve still got a couple of years to catch up with him.

Falling Skies Finale Fizzle

Falling Skies, the TNT summer science-fiction (vaguely and loosely associated with that genre) summer series concluded it’s first ‘season’ last night and delivered hype, hype and more hype, together with more questions than answers.  I restrained myself from reviewing any of the individual episodes in the series for the last few weeks, mostly in an effort to avoid spoilers, but also because I hoped for some movement in the plot and some growth from the main characters.  I would say all of the characters grew, changed and learned from their experiences, but at a more gradual rate than I had hoped.

If humanity is on the brink of extinction, would we truly throw away the few lives left on a futile attack on supremely superior alien invaders who had already effortlessly wiped out billions of us?  I guess if you’re a military gung-ho sort of guy, the obvious answer is “Yes!” or more likely “Sir! Yes, Sir!”  At least the science bits, where the surviving civilians learn how the ‘skitters’ communicate, how to interfere in that communication, and begin to ascertain the origins of skitters, provided the most satisfactory story elements.

The boundaries of my belief stretched to near breaking when confronted with the sub-par special effects and off-screen encounters between our surviving military and the alien invaders.  While that helps the ‘bottom-line’ and saves money in production, as a viewer I feel cheated.  Case in point: the attack on the school (where the 2nd Mass volunteers, those not involved in throwing away their lives by attacking the local alien entrenched HQ, and civilians) by seven (yes, only seven) mechs underwhelmed. Nor was I convinced of the human victory (insert overly melodramatic human ingenuity here) that drove the mechs to retreat.

And to leave me, after ten hours (well, more like 420 minutes) of stringing me along, without answers, for at least another ten months, frustrates and angers me.   I don’t expect happy endings, especially in the dystopian SF subgenre, but I do expect some respect for my intelligence.

I can’t wait for Doctor Who to commence again.

Don’t Know Whether to Laugh or Cry, But Whining Will Do

As I sit here at my desk, in my still wet work clothes, I wonder why I bothered to wake up this morning.  Well, not like I had much choice, considering it all started with my cell phone . . .

4:34 a.m. ~ My cell phone wakes me up to tell me it’s battery is nearly dead and needs resuscitated.

4:35 a.m. ~ I stumble downstairs to the card table where I keep all the various and sundry charging cords and transformers coiled.

4:36 a.m. ~ I stumble back upstairs and give my cell phone its juice fix and fall back into bed.

4:52 a.m. ~ Hubby sleep walks upstairs and crawls into bed.

5:00 a.m. ~ My cell phone wakes me up again with my alarm (“I’m Okay” by Styx from the Pieces of Eight album (circa 1978).  I hit the snooze button.

5:10 a.m. ~ “I’m Okay” but not really so snooze again.

5:20 am. ~ Third time trying “I’m Okay” but still not feeling it so snoozing again.

5:24 a.m. – Ready or not, I drag myself out of bed, unplug the cell phone, grab my Nook Color and reading glasses, shoes and clothes and head downstairs.  The Rotts believe me this time and tag along at my heels.

5:30 a.m. ~ Final gasp of “I’m Okay” from my cell phone as I’m getting dressed and this time I hit the OK button to kill the alarm.

5:32 a.m. ~ Feed the Rotts and let them outside.  It’s raining … great, just great.

5:34 a.m. ~ Put paperback, reading glasses, Nook Color and Bluetooth earpiece back in purse.  Grab a reusable grocery bag for an early trip to Dillons.  Let the wet Rotts in, who promptly shake all their accumulated rainwater onto the closest absorbent surface … me.  Great, and getting greater.

5:35 a.m. ~ Grab purse, grocery bag, a set of Bonneville and Firebird keys  and opened garage door on empty bay (north side).  Firebird parked immediately outside with Bonneville behind it.  I get to do the Pontiac shuffle in the rain.

5:36 a.m. ~ Went to passenger side of Firebird to put my purse and grocery bag on the passenger seat.  My hubby had left the window partially rolled down.  Wonderful!

5:37 a.m. ~ Put purse and bag behind driver’s seat.  Went back in garage, grabbed large umbrella, opened it and took trash down down to curb.

5:38 a.m. ~ Rushed back inside to grab the recycling box.  Spent several seconds figuring out how to carry the box (which is large, but not heavy, and requires two hands) and the umbrella.  I managed, but it was touch-and-go there for a bit.

5:39 a.m. ~ Backed Bonneville to other side of Bambi Court and left keys in ignition (but engine off).  Backed Firebird to south side of driveway, noticing the fuel gauge needle was below E.  Good grief, I’d be lucky to make it the two blocks to the convenience store let alone the three miles to Dillons and Hallmark.

5:40 a.m. ~ Parked Bonneville in the garage.  Closed the garage door and ran out under the closing contraption to the Firebird.

5:41 a.m. ~ Made it across Main Street (aka US-73/K-7) to the convenience store and put $19.84 worth of premium gas in the Firebird.  My dollar amounts in gas tend to reflect my mood.

5:45 a.m. ~ Drive to Dillons and wait in the parking lot until they open (at 6:00 a.m.)

6:00 a.m. ~ First one in the door (no surprise there).

6:15 a.m. ~ Self-checkout registered about half of the items I placed in the grocery bag, probably because they were so light.  Consequently, I needed ‘assistance’ from the distracted Dillons personnel to self-checkout.

6:23 a.m. ~ Arrive at Hallmark plant parking lot but there is no van.  Send a text message to the main driver “Where’s the van? Did you already leave without me?”

6:26 a.m. ~ Receive a call from driver to reassure me that the van would arrive shortly.  Our usual van is in for repair or tires.  The backup driver arrives with the van as well as one of the other riders.

6:28 a.m. ~ The rain is coming down in sheets.  While I have my large umbrella with me, it’s behind the front seats of the Firebird, with my purse and grocery bag.  I open the door and step out and within five seconds I am completely soaked to the skin from head to foot.  I quickly grab my purse and bag and run to the passenger side rear door of the van.  It doesn’t automatically open like the usual van so I stand for another few seconds getting even more drenched.  This van has two benches, with no ready access to the rear bench, so I stand there another second or two trying to figure out how to scramble over the front bench.  I give up and crawl across to the driver’s side spot and let the other rider close the panel door.  I can feel the water dripping down my back and legs.  It’s going to be a miserable 45-50 minute ride to work.

6:58 a.m. ~ We pick up a rider in KCK.  She asks me how I’ve been, since I haven’t ridden in the van for  a week.  I reply, “I’m soaked.”

7:10 a.m. ~ At Broadway and 31st street, while waiting for the stoplight, the driver jokingly asks me if I would walk from here.  I said, “I should’ve telecommuted.”

7:20 a.m. ~ Dropped off in front of my building and it’s still raining, but at this point, what’s a bit more water?

I haven’t melted yet, so even if I feel like the Wicked Witch of the West, I’ll try to hunker down in my cube until I feel less like a wet dog and more like a dry and comfortable human being.

Happy Thursday!