Meter? I hardly know 'er!

When I came home from D.C., I had a notice in my mailbox that the water department had left me multiple notices regarding replacing my water meter, and if I didn't call within ten days, they'd cut my water off.

That seemed a little harsh and rude, as I had received exactly no notices, but I called yesterday afternoon and scheduled an appointment to have the water-meter-replacers come this morning at 8.

Which I then promptly forgot.

So then when I was lounging around at 7:50 and the doorbell rang, I panicked, because, not dressed yet.

The moral of the story is, if you're not capable of actually functioning as an adult, it's good to have left your clean laundry basket in the living room where you fell asleep, so you can throw on some jeans and a tank top quickly before you answer the door.

Or, I suppose, to sleep in your bedroom where the rest of your clothes are. But what are the odds of that?

Travel tips: Amtrak

I wrote this last Friday, but think it's wiser not to tell the whole world you're out of town right at the beginning of your trip, so I'm waiting until I'm home to post it.

I was talking the night before I left about the relative security of taking a train vs. an airplane, and also the relative amounts of damage you could do with a train vs. a plane. For those of you who have not traveled by rail before, I'll just say this: not secure. People get off and on all the time, and there's not scanning of any kind. I think of it every time some new, entirely cosmetic "security measure" gets enacted at an airport.

Then the next morning, I had to get on a train. I'd switched my reservation late the night before so I was getting onto the same train at a more convenient stop. The new station, Windsor Locks, CT, was an unfamiliar one to me, so I got there good and early (which is to say, half an hour early) to be sure I'd have time to deal with whatever the parking situation is and print off my new ticket and whatnot.

Parking situation? As it turns out, it's just a medium-sized, unpaid, unattended parking lot, mostly empty at 5:45 on a Thursday morning.  No problem.

But also... no station. It's essentially a bus shelter by some tracks. Which is fine, except there's nowhere to print a new ticket. That worried me a little, but I had 30 minutes to figure it out. I called Amtrak from my car, and burned many of those 30 minutes growing increasingly panicky on hold. It was very dramatic. 

Except, as it turns out, according to the nice lady on the phone, I could just show the conductor my eTicket on my phone,* and that'd be sufficient.

So i was relieved. 

And then I got on the train, and the conductor said, "How far are you going?" 

And I said, "Washington." 

And he said, "[my real last name]?" 

And I said, "yes." 

There was no ticket showing of any kind even asked of me.

In New York, there was an announcement that there was a new team of conductors, and so they'd need to see our tickets again. I had another moment of panic when I couldn't find my phone briefly, because I'd been asleep most of the trip with my phone in my coat pocket (I thought) and my coat just on the seat next to me, and with people getting on and off the train or whatever, anyone could easily just have swiped it. More of that famous train security. But I found my phone, and a few stops later, the conductor got to me.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Washington," I said.

"Did they already scan your ticket?" he asked.

"Sort of," I said.

...and then he moved on.

I have always understood the appeal of the hobo life, train-hopping and whatnot, but have always thought it was not for me, with the discomfort and the athleticism. Little did I know I could be living the hobo life just by getting onto random passenger trains and hunkering down with a good book. 

It is possible that I get less scrutiny because I am a middle-aged white lady and do not look like a hobo, but I made it from Windsor Locks, Connecticut, to Washington, D.C., without anyone seeing a ticket or any identification whatever. They haven't even asked me for my name; they've told me what my name should be.

*At what point did it become OK to just call it a "phone" and know that everyone would understand from context that you did not mean some form of landline? Remember when you used to have to say "cell phone" all the time? And some of us still do say that, but also, we all get it when I say I showed someone an e-mail on my phone.

Sentence(s) of the day, e-mail edition

"Tuesday I sent in some new class notes.

Please delete the information on the death of [person].  He is alive.  Fortunately we found out."

Introducing: Sentence of the Day

Sometimes, I see a sentence that is so glorious in its gloriousness I just want to share it. For example, some of you may remember the wonder that is "I love you Pinky Ganesh."

I think we need a new series here. When I see a sentence that just dazzles me, we'll call it the sentence of the day, and in the future, it won't get this big introduction. I'll also present without context, because a real gem of a sentence should do OK without it, but if the context is hilarious or current eventsy, there'll be a link for your value-added entertainment.

Without further ado:

"Because nothing says "voice of her generation" like eponymous cosmetics." -A friend of a friend, on Facebook

Another productive day

About an hour ago, I went out to the parking lot behind my workplace and gave some rough-looking 20-ish-year-old man with a lip ring some cash.

It was just the first chance I'd had to catch up with my plow guy since he plowed my driveway.

But I assume/hope my coworkers thought it was a drug deal. Or maybe something prostitution-based, though working through the specifics of that get a little more complicated.

Just trying to keep things interesting at the ol' place of employment.

In with the new

In a very short span of time, a few things happened:

• I got a gift card for new running shoes for Christmas
• I got a gift card for a 60-minute massage for Christmas
• A college friend who is a much more, er, renowned writer than I posted this to Facebook: "Creative work takes energy so writers: pamper yourselves a bit. Do something fun. Eat ice cream. Go for a walk. See a wacky movie. Serious work demands serious play. The two, in fact, are one." 
• I was invited to exactly two New Year's Eve gatherings: "Self-Care in the New Year for the Surly Hearted" and a latenight guided meditation followed by yoga followed by breath work. (I went to the former. Obviously.)

So, OK, got it. I do not know whether it's the people in my life or God or the universe (or some combination) trying to tell me something, but the message is clear. And apt.

So, here's what I've done in 2013 so far:

• enjoyed the company of lovely people
• set some intentions
• drunk mead and whiskey (both in moderation)
• watched movies
• played games
• asked questions
• answered questions
• snuggled with a very sweet puppy
• cooked up, shared, and eaten a bunch of hoppin' john with greens for both luck and deliciousness
• read a little Francesca Lia Block
• hiked in the snow
• said some stuff that needed to be said
• eaten some long noodles, also for both luck and deliciousness
• reconnected with a couple of far-off loved ones
• prayed

Oh, and then I fell asleep at 6-something this evening and woke up several times expecting it to be the wee hours, except it wasn't and still isn't, so then I changed out of the clothes I crashed in and stayed up a little and wrote a blog post.

Still, not a bad beginning to the year. What restorative things are you doing?