I’ve got a job, I explore
I follow every little whiff
And I want my life to smell like this
To find a place, ancient race
The kind you’d like to gamble with
Where they stamp on burnin’ bags of shit

Lookin’ for a place to happen, makin’ stops along the way

Wayward ho, away we go
It’s a shame to leave this masterpiece
With its gallery gods and its garbage-bag trees
Oooh, I’ll paint a scene from memory
So I’d know who murdered me
It’s a vain pursuit, but it helps me sleep

Lookin’ for a place to happen, makin’ stops along the way
Lookin’ for a place to happen, makin’ stops along the way

Jacques Cartier, right this way
Now put your coat up on the bed
Hey, man, you’ve got the real bum’s eye for clothes
Aaaand come on in, sit right down
No, you’re not the first to show
We’ve all been here since, God, who knows?

Lookin’ for a place to happen, makin’ stops along the way
Lookin’ for a place to happen, makin’ stops along the way

Jacques Cartier, right this way…aaand put your coat up, on the bed…oooh, you got the real bum’s eye for clothes…come on in…sit right down…we’ve all been here since, God, who knows…

**********
Deeamn. Now that I’ve finally got a day off to think about everything that’s gone on in the past week, it’s taking every brain cell that I have to determine that it’s all for real. Where shall we start…Tuesday last week? First off, that was my very first day on the job. I suppose most or all of you may have heard that John Kerry was campaigning in Philadelphia for two days (when he damn well should have been in the eternal clusterfuck known as Boston where he belongs).

But anyway, guess who was driving in his motorcade after he reached the airport?

I didn’t even know until we got to the airport and I saw the news vans. It was only then that I discovered I’d be driving one of the press-corps buses from the airport to various and sundry destinations in Philly. Now how cool is this, I ask you? Being escorted by the police and Secret Service gunships, blaring down I-95 which has been shut down in its entirety just for us, blowing stop signs and red lights with the absolute right-of-way from the Inthelineoffire Crew… Whee! I’m tellin’ ya, I didn’t even notice the rain – it was such a high-caliber job and I was so desperate not to screw it up – and miraculously, I didn’t (not within sight of my passengers, anyway). I didn’t get to meet Kerry, although I did see him making his way between his vehicle and the Art Museum where he was making his speech. But, that’s another story.

So is Virginia Beach.

Thursday through Sunday I spent floating weightlessly over the pavement to the most eye-popping (and, for that matter, only) beach party in my entire sun-darkened life. Man! Where on God’s green earth did I come off landing a job this big? (Thank you, Virginia, but I can live without your drenched air.) Nonetheless, are you folks hearin’ this? That after only three days on the job, I was already plunked down in a Dina Viaggio motor coach embarking on a four-day trip to VIRGINIA FREAKING BEACH???? Nope, my cerebellum wasn’t hearing it, either.

Now mind you, the company that I’m working for sires a half-and-half stable: Dina Viaggios and older MCI buses. (I swear, one of these days I’m going to slip up and write Viggo instead of Viaggio. ) Aaaaaand when I told the boss that I had driven Blue Birds at my last job, the commiseration commenced instantly. Apparently, this company (which shall remain nameless to protect the uninvolved) owned some Blue Birds several years back – and promptly got rid of them for the same reasons that everybody at UNH with one-third of a brain can’t stand to drive them. I’m not saying that I would entrust my life to a Dina or an MCI that age, but after Dinacruising to and fro in Virginia Beach for four days, I’m pretty sure I’ve driven my last Blue Bird for a while.

Oh, and if you ever have occasion to drive along U.S. 13 from Philadelphia to, say, Miami, bring a camera and an entire crate of film. The cruise along the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel is…well, bring a companion and take turns driving so everybody can enjoy the view. I’ve yet to drive by the Outer Banks, but that’s another darn-tootin’ snap-shootin’ place, I’m sure.

Well, while I’ve got the day off, maybe it’s time for some serious reading and responding…

Gawd, I hate dogs.

Apologies to you dog lovers, but I’m speaking from personal experience. A few years ago, we had this cocker spaniel living next door – absolutely, positively the STUPIDEST dog I’ve ever seen. Had the most irritating high-pitched yap you ever heard, and we heard enough of it when we were minding our own business in the backyard that I was sorely tempted to strangle the stupid thing on a great many occasions. I swear, the only words it seemed to understand were “Shut up” – it was good for nothing but noise pollution.

It’s been dead for some time, apparently from some sort of canine illness (its peanut-sized brain probably couldn’t generate enough power for its immune system to function properly…). Recently, however, it’s been replaced with a tantamount annoyance around the corner from us - don’t know what breed this dog is, but it has an equally irritating, squealing bark that can just keep on shattering wine glasses from one end of the block to the other for hours on end. All night every night, it will not shut up.

And I’m pissing and moaning about this why? Because for the love of all things sacred, I have to get to sleep within the next 15 minutes to half an hour. Because I have to get my sagging ass out of bed no later than 9:00 tomorrow morning. Because I have to be out the door no later than 9:30. Because I have to catch a train at 10:00.

Because I am taking that train to Philadelphia and seeing my most dearly, sweetly beloved wonder woman for the first time in a month.

And, I dunno…maybe I’ll be looking for a job…and/or an apartment…if there’s time when she and I aren’t travelling all over the creation taking in the plethora of incredible sights and experiences Pennsylvania has to offer…But, the upshot of it is that posts here may be somewhat sporadic for a while (like they weren’t scanty enough already ). Nonetheless, you should be hearing from both of us eventually – and feasting your eyes on many dozens of images from our extensive travels in good ol’ Penn’s Woods.

Fare thee well, one and all! Perhaps very soon, I’ll be clattering feverishly away from a new abode in greater Philadelphia, sharing an archetype of joy with you all!!

Here’s a repost of something I got from worcestermass.com and put up a couple of months ago; it’s amended with a few additions from friends and peeps. Add on all you want!

A Handy Guide to a Driver’s Origins

One hand on wheel, one hand on horn: Chicago.
One hand on wheel, one finger out window: New York.
One hand on wheel, one finger out window, cutting diagonally across all ten lanes of traffic: New Jersey.
One hand on wheel, one hand on newspaper, foot flat on accelerator: Boston.
One hand on wheel, one hand on nonfat double-decaf cappuccino, one shoulder on cell phone, .357 Magnum in lap, brick on accelerator: Los Angeles.
One hand on wheel, one hand on makeup kit, one shoulder on cell phone, changing lanes every three seconds: Philadelphia.
Both hands on wheel, both feet on brake, eyes squeezed shut, quivering in terror: Ohio (driving in Boston).
One hand on wheel, one hand on joint, bass busting windows three blocks away: Baltimore.
One hand on wheel, one hand on Colt .45, both feet on accelerator, McDonald’s bag flying out window: Dallas.
One hand on wheel, one arm out window, one foot on dashboard, doing 5 miles over the speed limit: New Hampshire.
One hand on wheel, one hand out window, blowing every red light encountered: Washington, D.C.
One hand on latte, one hand on cell phone, one knee on wheel, foot on brake, mind on game: Seattle.
Both hands clutching wheel, blue hair barely visible above window level, doing 35 on the interstate in the far left lane with left blinker on: Florida.

Ahhh, farewell to another Memorial Day weekend…

…which, be warned, has compelled me to concrete-nail a soap box into the sidewalk and then get up on it to spout about national holidays.

I mean, is there a national or religious holiday anywhere in this country that still retains its original meaning? The meaning that it was supposed to have for every person everywhere in the States when the Church and/or Uncle Sam declared it? The very reason it exists, its entire down-to-earth chemical makeup?

Let’s pick each holiday apart one at a time and see how times have taken a turn for the worse.

1. Thanksgiving

Then: Assemble with your friends and your family, and maybe even those who might have been your enemies had they not graciously taught you how to survive in your new environment. Gather around a table that bears the fruits of your hard work, and give thanks and boundless praise to your Lord and God, for He has been good and kind to you, granting you fortune and blessing and the stuff of life itself so that you have lived to see this day.
Now: Stuff your face with enough food to sustain Patton’s Third Army for an extended stay in Siberia, drink beer, and watch football. In the Orthodox church, we don’t have any deadly sins. But for the Western church, I can see at least three out of seven being committed on Thanksgiving alone.

2. Christmas

Then: Sing, shout, and let your praises echo around the world for the birth of our Lord, God, and Saviour Jesus Christ, who has come into the world to save the sinners, of whom you are the first. Spread and proclaim joy to the four corners of the earth that our salvation is at hand.
Now: Shop till you drop. Try to decide how big a tree you want. Stand in endless lines in department stores with a wagon overflowing with material things. Impatiently tear your presents open and whine ungratefully to the gift-giver that you wanted a flatscreen, not a full-size monitor. Stuff your face and drink more beer. Scoff and wave your hand at the bubbly weirdo trying to tell you to rejoice in the birth of…hah? Who’s this Jesus Christ dude? Wasn’t he a Spanish explorer or something?

3. New Year’s Day

Then: Gather with your family and your friends, look back on the fond memories of the preceding year, and look ahead with excitement and anticipation to what the new year will bring. Decide what you’re going to do to make your life better in the coming twelve months, whether you’re going to try harder in school or pull yourself closer to God.
Now: Hang out with your friends, watch Times Square on TV, get wasted, and pass out on the floor (or better yet, behind the wheel) from too much booze. See how long it takes you to drop your New Year’s Resolution in the ditch (or better yet, try out your New Year’s Resolution on your nice new flatscreen monitor).

4. Easter

Then: Eagerly anticipate the Resurrection, and rejoice in the glory of our Risen Lord. Gather with His followers and sing praise that His blood has washed all your transgressions right down the drain, and He has yet returned from the dead to be amongst us unto eternity.
Now: Turn the house upside down looking for pretty coloured eggs, gobble all the chocolate Switzerland can produce, and stay up until all hours waiting for that nonexistent rabbit (which, I might add, is a pagan symbol) to show up.

5. Memorial Day

Then: Take a day to think about your freedom and the men and women who have preserved it. Be grateful to them that they risked their lives – and, all too often, lost them – so that you might go on living in a free country. If you happen to cross paths with a veteran, thank him for all he’s done.
Now: Hook up the speedboat, strap the canoe to the roof, load up the Winnebago, and take Friday off early to enjoy your long weekend. Stink up the quiet countryside on your way to hang out with your buddies, grill up some meat, drink more beer, watch movies, and to hell with the slowpoke who gets in your way on the highway. If you happen to be a construction boss, use the free day to catch up on paperwork for the coming season.

6. Independence Day

Then: Celebrate the freedom of our country, and look fondly back on the Founding Fathers who made it possible – not to mention making it possible for other people to enter the States freely, if not for which a lot of us might not even have gotten to live here.
Now: I have to say, Independence Day hasn’t changed that much, and I’m glad. However, beer-drinking and baseball-watching has begun to stink it up a bit too much, especially if it falls on a Friday or a Monday.

As you can see, Memorial Day made me numbingly aware of all this, and not just because we New Hampshire dwellers couldn’t even get out of our driveways into the unimaginable acres of vehicular nincompoopery coming up from Massachusetts and Connecticut.

Sixty years ago today, in some chill, clammy encampment somewhere in England, British and American soldiers were huddled together nervously joking and bonding and sharing something of themselves, trying to temper the pressure of the incredible heat they would be under in only a week. Some of them were probably kneeling in silent prayer, asking for God’s blessing that they would still be alive 168 hours from now, or perhaps begging His forgiveness for any sin they had committed on or off the battlefield, for they knew that this might be their last chance to ask. For tens of thousands of soldiers on both sides, it was – and now, former soldiers on both sides come together to pay homage to each other’s fallen comrades. On December 7, 1991, Japanese and Americans alike stood side by side in Pearl Harbour for just that purpose. I’m sorry I missed the dedication of the WWII Memorial in D.C., because I’ve had the fascinating occasion to talk to two WWII veterans, and I would have loved to have another one.

Only they know how many friends they made, only to lose them the next day. Now we honour their memory by spending hours sitting in traffic before living it up, drinking beer and watching baseball games?

What’s wrong with this picture?

And people wonder why we’re having so many tornadoes, why gas prices are so high, and why the war in Iraq doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere.

We’re getting a glaring hint from above, people.

Caution: Chris is fixing to get something off his chest. Chris has not had occasion to talk to his beloved dearheart in almost 48 hours, and he is thus inclined to rant, however briefly, before he tries again.

So here goes.

Upward Bound kiddies coming in from Manchester and the north country for a day at UNH (if there’s no Upward Bound in your area, kindly refrain from asking me what it is since I haven’t the foggiest). Whenever I’m transporting passengers under the age of 18, I often can’t help snorting and shaking my head as I watch them gravitate instantly to the back of the bus. Guys, not to rain on your parade or anything, but you’re not going to get away with a damn thing back there. Since the bus in question doesn’t have a back window, what do you think my rearview mirror is for? I can spy whatever you’re up to and I can smell cigarette smoke. The back of a bus is not a safe haven when the driver is just doing his job. Capisce?

*sigh* Kids…

And while it’s on my mind, here’s one thing the world may never understand: people who like to brag about their big-ass high-tech stereo systems. In the last two weeks, I’ve been to three dwellings that boast high-def TVs, surround sound, DVD changers, concert-sized speakers, satellite systems, and a host of other stainless-steel overkill. That’s all it is, overkill. I mean, it’s just a movie or a TV episode, for crying out loud. Here I am sitting on a couch minding my own damn business, when right out of the blue, I find the owner in my face going to town about his speakers, his screen resolution, the bass settings, number of channels he gets, number of movies he can watch for free, what big-name special-effects epic films sound like on his surround system…For Pete’s sake, there is a world outside of your living room, despite the fact that said room is completely usurped by your stereo!!! News flash to all who own such systems and like to brag about them to visitors: I’m not impressed. I couldn’t care less whether you’ve got a big-ass high-tech system or a piddlin’ 13-inch Magnavox. Need I add, I’m even less impressed when you just stand in front of me and rant and rave about what an awesome home entertainment system you have and expect me to know exactly what’s rolling off your overworked tongue. Even if it’s LOTR or Star Wars, I just want to watch the flick and enjoy it if that’s possible, no matter what kind of screen it’s on or what kind of speakers it’s issuing from. That means it would be right decent of you not to chip in every three seconds pointing out the almost-inaudible scrape or chirp coming out of the speaker that’s sitting on the windowsill right next to my ear.

Okay, rant’s over – time to call Ruth.

An interesting test I picked up from malenkaya…

You’re a Dream Maker You experience a sense of personal harmony when you help people. Your capacity to listen and offer suggestions allows them to become more aware of what they need. They gain a balanced perspective.
		The passionate you nurtures others so that they can be themselves. You listen to their concerns and encourage them to talk about their lives. You have the power to understand people’s true intentions.
		The centered you can see the end, right from the beginning. You know the step-by-step process of producing a product, completing a task, or simply living your life. When all is quiet within, you decide if your expectations are realistic.
		The emotional you avoids asking what’s missing. Novel adventures seem to appear. Honor your forbidden thoughts. They are merely signposts to exciting new paths you need to follow.

ARDA ONLINE: The Fellowchat of the Ring, Part 1

You have just entered room “The Chatroom of Elrond.”

WhiteWizzywig has entered the room.

WhiteWizzywig: we the first ones here??

RingKing2000: looks like

BlizzardWizard1138: ya know, eventually we’re liable to wind up having a new council for a new purpose every week…this is gonna get real old real fast

D O O M 47: What’re you complaining about, Mr. 300-lives-of-men-I’ve-walked-this-earth?

WhiteWizzywig: LOL!!

BlizzardWizard1138: har har

BlizzardWizard1138: like I’ve been sayin’ all along, I have no time…clean out your ears

D O O M 47: Let’s see if I listen to you grouse about the room service in Rivendell from here on.

RingKing2000: touche…

YoungBluEyez has entered the room.

D O O M 47: Ah, Young Blue Eyes is back…

YoungBluEyez: hey there

GreenthumbGamgee has entered the room.

GreenthumbGamgee: ok, let’s finish it!!

RingKing2000: wth…it hasn’t even *started* yet

D O O M 47: How does he *do* that?

YoungBluEyez: hell if i know

GreenthumbGamgee: mr. frodo’s not goin’ anywhere without me!

WhiteWizzywig: no indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he receives a chat invite and you do not

D O O M 47: *AHEM*

WhiteWizzywig: ^_^

RingKing2000: now now, charity…

BlizzardWizard1138: what, you want us to donate overgenerously to the United Way??

RingKing2000: ha!

RingKing2000: nah, do the next best thing…just help us all eliminate the fandom menace

GreenthumbGamgee: yes!!! no more crappy star wars movies! that’s what i’m talkin’ about!

YoungBluEyez: i don’t think that’s what he had in mind, sam

D O O M 47: Eru, I hope not.

StillNotKing has entered the room.

StillNotKing: hey all

RingKing2000: hmf…slaughter any nazgul lately??

WhiteWizzywig: nazgul nothin’, how about uruk-hai? how many scalps *this* week already?

StillNotKing: yeah, maybe you next, Mr. Prince of Pasty

D O O M 47: Now now, everybody settle down…everybody take a number…
BlizzardWizard1138: what, you calling first dibs?

YoungBluEyez: geez…your popularity rating has somewhat lessened of late, aragorn king

StillNotKing: that’s the trouble, I’m *not* king yet

GreenthumbGamgee: must be all that grease…let me at ‘im with some strawberry shampoo

elfbabe253 has entered the room.

StillNotKing: hey listen, you guys try living off the land for 87 years with his eyebrows drilling into the back of your neck

D O O M 47: HEY!

D O O M 47: That’s it, you’re sleeping on the couch until your coronation, pal!

elfbabe253: oh daddy…why can’t you go pick on elrohir for staying up online till 3 am?

D O O M 47: Because I’ve never caught Elrohir cybering with a walking oil drum.

StillNotKing: funny funny funny

BlizzardWizard1138: ha-ha

elfbabe253: hey guys…you know, i’m not feeling very well…

StillNotKing: aww…what ails you, sweetie?

elfbabe253: i dunno…i just feel so…ditzy

YoungBluEyez: gee, i hope there’s a cure for that…

WhiteWizzywig: hmm, must be that “ringaling” virus sauron’s been spreading around

RingKing2000: virus??? MOI???? shall we discuss the bombardment of chlorine-bleach pop-up ads you’ve been hitting us all with???

WhiteWizzywig: *hides*

StillNotKing: erk…this is beyond my skill to heal

RingKing2000: mwahahaha…you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!! go me!!!!

TO BE CONTINUED…

Many thanks to all who wished me luck on the job interview!! It seemed to go all right, although there’s still much to look forward to; hiring process involves a lot more than just one interview. Now I’m waiting for the next couple of weeks while the HR guy and the VP go over the new applicants and decide who’s good enough to advance to candidacy. God, I am still praying for fortune in this endeavour. Don’t want to be stuck at transit any longer than I have to. So I’ll letcha all know how it’s going as it goes.

HOWEVER, since there are still a couple of weeks…

That gives me the rest of this week for a long, goosebumping adventure that has been in the plans for quite some time now. A venture that will bring me to the toetips of one who is very dear to my heart, one who is in need of every last specksplashing drop of friendship I can give. A venture that I have been looking forward to for days, in spite of parental objections. There will be utter silence on this blog for a while, but it’s nothing new to you lot, now is it?? It will start tomorrow if all goes as I expect, hope, and pray it will.

Meanwhile, I will leave you with this thought - a few lines from twenty, and only twenty, songs that accurately describe this life o’ mine. Guess the title and the artist if you can, then take a stab at your own twenty lines to be embroidered on a bib.

1. I can’t believe the news today.


2. We live to survive our paradoxes.


3. Isn’t it amazing what you can accomplish, when you don’t let the nation get in your way?


4. It’s not that life here’s distasteful to me, it’s just that I’m all alone.


5. I hate everything about you; why do I love you?


6. I can’t live with or without you.


7. Mother, can’t you see I’ve got to live my life the way I feel is right for me?


8. We believe that we can change ourselves, the past can be undone, but we carry on our back the burden time always reveals.


9. This is how you remind me of what I really am.


10. Angst on the planks, spittin’ from a bridge, just to see how far down it really is.


11. We’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got, it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not.


12. Do you like to be judged or liked, do you like it inside a barrel, plungin’ over the falls?


13. You pick me up and dust me off and tell me I’m okay, and sometimes that’s just what we need to get us through the day.


14. Shot through the heart and you’re to blame, you give love a bad name.


15. Tests have shown that suspicious or hostile, their lives need not be shortened.


16. An accident’s sometimes the only way to work our way back to bad decisions.


17. 20,000 chances I wasted, waiting for the moment to turn.


18. When are you thinking of disappearing, when there’s nothing but heartache in your social life?


19. I’m not afraid of anything in this world, there’s nothing you can throw at me that I haven’t already heard.


20. All those memories, pain and anger, flood back one by one.

Now more than ever, I NY…

…especially after putting in a 23-hour workday doing a trip down there.

5 AM yesterday morning. Jon and I both punch the clock, get our crud together, get started on the paperwork, pick up our group, and are supremely relieved to find that we have 42 passengers. We were expecting 45, which would have been a complete bitch because we had a 45-seat bus and we needed an extra seat for one of us to rest during the drive. So there’s the day’s first stroke of luck…

I drive down while Jon gets some shuteye - we get to the Big Apple in precisely five hours. Despite the fact that I told the passengers we’d make their drive as comfy as possible, the Massachusetts Highway Dept. seems determined not to let that happen, bunch of arrogant Mass-holes. *grr* Buuuut, anyway…We drop our group on Eighth and 45th to attend their first Broadway show and then make tracks over to 11th and 44th – yay for the sketchy west side of Manhattan. Nevertheless, the day’s second stroke of luck furnishes us with a lovely big tour-bus parking space on 44th within a few blocks of the Port Authority subway stop (although it took us the better part of a half hour to find it). Aaaand right on its heels is our third stroke of luck: we were still a safe distance ahead of bingo fuel.

First stop, Times Square for lunch – after an eye-popping view of a huge billboard ad for ROTK on DVD, May 25. Even though I’m holding out till the Extended Edition, that’s reeeeal nice to know. *shifts eyes amongst upcoming birthdays*  After lunch we mosey on over to the Loews on 42nd Street for the 1:00 showing of Van Helsing, which I think of at first as a rather cheesy rip-off of some other great flicks – but no no no! It was very well done, I thought by the end, and David Wenham is grand in a role of comic relief. Like so many other supernatural adventure movies these days, there was a bit too much goop for my liking, but I loved the ending. Bittersweet, poignant, and overall nicely done. Props to the stops for Hugh Jackman.

And THEN, Jon embarks upon his first-ever ride on the NYC subway – I rode it a couple of times on a similar trip last year, and in some spots it feels like we’re going down I-495 in MA all over again. We peruse Ground Zero for a little while; those of you who haven’t been there recently, it’s now very clean and very quiet, and eerie. I can still remember visiting New York at the tender age of eleven, going with my uncle to the top of the south tower and viewing the entire city from up there.

It’s creepy to think that you were actually standing in a place once upon a time, and now that place is gone forever.

I take a few snapshots to show the folks how the area looks now, and I’ll share them here as well if anyone’s interested. From there, Jon and I proceed up to Washington Square in the fleeting hopes that Kristy is somewhere on the premises; but grr to the Bobst Library’s disallowance of visitors. We do, however, get a kick out of watching this wacky guy from Kung Fu Comics performing a bunch of outrageous stunts in the midst of Washington Square, involving amongstotherthings a bullwhip, a cigarette, a cucumber, a samurai sword, firelit boards and one poor bahstid whom the guy yoinked out of the crowd to be his guinea pig. Boy, am I glad we got there too late…And double-glad that the weather has turned out the way it has. Chilly and rainy in the morning, but bear in mind that New York is almost always fifteen degrees warmer than the rest of the Northeast. Meh, I’m glad I wore shorts.

Back to the bus for a couple of hours’ rest. I’m constantly amazed that we’ve yet to be waylaid by any panhandlers - Boston is crawling with them, but New York is surprisingly panhandler-free. Go, Rudy!! 7:00 PM. We arise, mosey on back to 42nd Street, catch the subway to Little Italy, and grab a quick dinner at a sub shop – and boy are we cutting it close, because we have to pick our group up around 9:15 and the wait for a train is insanely long on Sundays. So you can well imagine, we’re hoofin’ it back after dinner – I was NOT about to bum a ride in a New York City taxi. Some things never change. Yet there lies our fourth stroke of luck, returning just in time to get warmed up and get our rear in gear.

Aaaanyway, we pick ‘em up from “The Lion King” on 42nd Street at precisely 9:20 and are underway five minutes later…and now, luckily, Jon’s driving and I’m riding shotgun, awaking and a-dozing over and over again. Must’ve woken up about four times – first, needless to say, was going over those Godawful escarpments of pavement on I-290 in Massachusetts. Ergh, I hate that state. One of these days I’ve half a mind to move to Pittsburgh or Ohio. But I digress. Blessedly, I sleep through most of that miserable clunkwhammy bounce up 495 and doze the rest of the way back to UNH.

Once again, five hours on the tick. Go us.

By the time we’ve cleaned up the bus, figured out our petty cash and credit-card charges, and replaced the 76 gallons of fuel we used getting down and back (which means we had 24 gallons to go before sucking air ), we’re both off the clock at 4:15 this morning. I know how management handles a nine-hour violation of DOT regulations, but let ‘em sweat - a day in NYC is truly an experience. How glad I am that it’s probably my last UNH trip for a very, very long time, if ever again.

The only thing that would have made it better is if Jon had abstained from taking every word that I said yesterday, wrenching it around and making me sound like an imbecile. But then, he does that to everybody who sees things differently from him. Won’t be a big deal anyway in a couple of weeks.

Anything interesting happen during your blusterpaced and airborne weekend?

BOOYAH!!!

Call from Concord just came in!!!! In I go for a job interview on Tuesday afternoon. Ohhh, man. This is too exciting. My hands are suffering from cellkilling rawrubbing claps and snaps and twaps across the back of my head to make sure this isn’t just a 2:30 AM fire of the brain.

Ahhhhh. This has been a weekend of pure and solid gold, me hearties. I just hope this week isn’t getting off to a false start.

For right now, life is good. Beautiful. Precious. Other adjectives of joy.

And I’ll tell you why. Here I am looking through the basement window, wondering if it’s even legal for our hedge and the lawn next door to be as blindingly verdant as they are. For once, the sun and rain have sent equal representatives to play on the seesaw this year, so the leaves are breaking out in brilliant green shoots of beauty ushering in the enlightenment of the vernal equinox.

And for once, I’m so happy that it’s an unfamiliar, but spiritsoaring, feeling.

Life’s been kind in the past, it’s been smug and arrogant in the past, sometimes it’s been downright ugly when it’s thwacking you with a baseball bat that has “Cold, Hard Reality” stamped all over it. However, over these past few days, certain personnel, near and far, have brought along an ice pack with “Happyjoybrightness” written on its face in permanent marker. Those personnel – most of whom know who they are – will sooner or later receive a token (or perhaps a very large and special gift) of appreciation for giving me a much-needed kick in the ass, which sent me cannoning off a rocky cliff face into a surging, leaping ocean of ecstasy and love and joy for the life that has been given to me.

(But take heart – there is a distinct difference between “given to” and “handed to”. There are still a few people around here who would do well to keep that in mind.)

Even so, I heart the lot of you.