Here are some thoughts about driving in Boston.
The Newton Sheraton is located above the freeway. In addition, the hotel is surrounded by a roundabout. In addition to the usual confusion of a roundabout, there is a point on the inside that is a Mass Pike onramp, and a certain exit that is also an on ramp to the same highway. If you get on the Mass Pike you'll have quite a ways to travel before the first place to turn around presents itself.
Lanes are just a suggestion.
The left lane will likely take you some place you don't want to go.
Mapquest can deceive.
People at gas stations don't give very good directions.
There really is no way to be gracefully 2 1/2 hours late.
Generalities: September 2004 Archives
There are two Grove Streets in Newton. Don't go to the other one.
People I know rarely figure into my dreams. On the rare occasion that someone I know makes an appearance in my dreams, I feel compelled to rush to tell them.
I find it's hard to strike a balance between sharing your excitement about the dream and who appeared in at and sounding like a weirdo stalker having weirdo "dreams" about the actors in your dreams.
I got back from my annual sailing trip last night. We spent Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday sailing in the Apostle Islands on Lake Superior. I slept out on deck every night, under a canopy of bright stars, with the gentle rocking of the boat to ease my troubled mind. It was magnificent. We had great wind and very nice weather.
I'll post pictures and more thoughts later.
Yesterday, I received a hand addressed envelope in the mail from an unfamiliar address. This happens so rarely for me, it was actually exciting to me. I get a few cards for my birthday, but that's the extent. The idea that someone took a few minutes to hand write me a note, and address an envelope by hand was actually very pleasing. It wasn't my birthday, it wasn't Christmas,
It brought pleasure to my day to wonder who would send me a card and to wonder why they would send it me.
The reality I discovered, after I opened the card, was a harsh let down.
It was a thank you note from my new dentist.
I should never have opened the card. Note to self, leave cards unopened.
More gmail invites showed up today. I have six to give away. If you want one, leave a non-spam comment.
Wake me up, is the Bush acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention over yet?
On another note this article struck me as both funny and pertinent.
"Do you suffer from Sudden Bush Hatred Fatigue Syndrome?
It's easy to diagnose. It often strikes at a bookstore. You walk in looking for a breezy summer read, and piled near the door are stacks and stacks of angry tomes about the perfidy of Usurper Bush.
He's a tool of big oil, small minds. He's a scarily devout Jesus-freak Christian AND the dupe of Saudi Wahhabist puppetmasters. He led the country to war on bizarre and fabricated assumptions -- sure, Clinton made Iraqi regime change standard American policy, but that was just a scarecrow to stick in the field. Plus, George W. Bush is Satan! Just look at the cover of Jim Hightower's book, where the author draws devil horns and scribbles a mustache and goatee on a Bush poster. Bush isn't just wrong. He's bad. Super-extra evil. Get it? GET IT? Oh, and buy this book.
You decline the opportunity. You wander over to periodicals and flip open the current Esquire. There's a story on stem cell research. The author's subtitle: "How the president is trying to kill my daughter."
Yes, of course, you think. (How weary your inner voice sounds.) That's precisely what he is trying to do. That is the president's specific objective in life: Kill sick people. It makes him happy. Every night he puts his cloven hooves up on the desk and thinks of the people he's offed today. Ahh. Life is good."
The question in my mind is Bush hated as much by Democrats as the Republicans loathed Clinton? At this point I think it's a toss up. One thing is certain, the Democrats loved Clinton more than John "Anybody but Bush" Kerry.
I saw the aftermath of a fairly serious accident outside my Roseville office building last night. It reminds one that the line between life and death is as thin as an egg shell. The flip side of this notion is that a lot of eggs turn into chickens and egg shells are remarkably durable ... right up until the point where they are not.
Now I remember, a walk will calm me down.
I am feeling better for the moment although it was an all too short walk. I am leading up towards needing a two week walk.
