The Joys of Flying: Paying More and Getting Less

It's muggy, grey, cloudy and humid out there. There's a strange mist hovering over the fields but it isn't over the water which is unusual. I drive by a cemetary every day and the mist was thicker there. Naturally, I find that fascinating and strangely magnetic; it's a natural creepiness that suits my dark sense of fiction.

It does make for a gloomy drive, one which is difficult when I am already wishing I didn't have to get up for work. Things feel more distant on days like this, as though I'm passing through a world that doesn't know I'm there.

But I am here now, earlier into the office than usual because there was less traffic than usual. Perhaps everyone else decided to stay home in bed.

However, I did not and here I sit, ready to start a new day of work. I also have another mission to accomplish while I work: I need to book a plane ticket.

The problem with the ticket is it's for next weekend. I'm usually much better organized than this when it comes to travel. However, I asked my boss last week in hopes I'd have permission to take a day off work and still haven't heard back. His lack of response has led to my procrastination.

Booking plane tickets these days is a complicated process. There are almost too many sites to on which to search. I usually start with my old standbys, Sidestep.com and Mobissimo.com, sites which scan multiple travel sites for me. I usually figure out from these sites which airlines are currently cheapest then go to the actually airline sites to book. Lately though, this has not been the best method. It seems as though flight prices jump up and down within minutes. One minute, I get ready to book a ticket and I'm told "The price for this ticket is no longer available." This has happened to me no less than five times now.

I actually hate airlines. I think I used to like flying when it was a novelty. I've complained about airlines before, once or twice. The thing is, they're becoming more hateable by the day.

I know it's a bad economy and the airlines are businesses that are struggling. Thus, the prices are higher than ever and the perks are less than ever. I hate that but I get it. However, it's the service I'm starting to have trouble with.

I was watching the news today and I heard about a flight from Houston that left passengers stuck on the plane for 16 hours. It was one of those horrible little small planes, the kind that you really only want to get on, fly and get off immediately. Apparently, the plane was diverted to Rochester, NY because of bad weather. Rather than let the passengers off the plane, Continental Airlines told them that because there was no security at the airport, they had to stay on the plane. They sat on that runway for six hours. According to the airport, it was actually Continental's choice to leave the passenger's there: They had security and the space for the passengers to wait.

I've been stuck on a plane. Usually, it's on a flight which comes before another that already has a tight connection. Thus, those minutes or even hours that you sit there, waiting to take off, not knowing if you're actually going to are already filled with the stress of wondering if you'll make that connection. Add in the crying babies, smell from the bathrooms and stale, germ-infested air and you've got some miserable passengers.

Ironically, I've found airlines to be some of the worst customer-service businesses I've ever encountered. When a problem occurs such as a missed flight because of a delay, while the personnel at the ticket desks try to help, they don't go above and beyond to remedy the situation. I know this is not their fault which is why I try to keep my temper with them. No, it's the airlines' policies that suck. Take, for example, my parents. They had a recent flight to the UK on Delta. They were flying from Indianapolis where they encountered a delay. They knew they weren't going to make thier connecting flight, so did the airline. However, rather than have my parents come back the next day, they told my parents to get on the plane. So they did. By the time they got to Atlanta, they had, of course, missed their connection. To make matters worse, there were no flights available until the next night. Thus, my parents were stranded for almost 24 hours. If Delta had listened, they would have been able to spend that time in the comfort of their home. The interesting thing was though Delta offered a discount for the hotel, they would not pay for my parent's stay overnight in Atlanta, even though it was really their fault my parents got stuck.

I know. Things happen. Yet lately, they seem to happen far more. Not only are air tickets expensive to begin with but there's those taxes and fees on top of it. So you might find a ticket from Cincinnati to Las Vegas for $280 but by the time the fees and taxes have been added, the ticket is $380. Thus....no longer a good price.

Then there's the fees incurred while travelling. American Airlines has now raised their baggage fees. It's now $20 to check the first bag, $30 for the second. This means, theoretically, you could pay $50 to be able to take enough stuff with you to go on a vacation. When you're already paying a lot more for the actual plane ticket than you'd like, those expenses just seem to be adding insult to injury. Let's not even talk about snacks on the plane. I recently flew American; they don't even take cash any more. You now have to give them a debit/credit card in order to be able to buy food or an alcoholic drink on a plane. This makes me worry about how much they're going to be charging in future. For me, using my debit/credit card is different from using cash. With cash, generally, it's been deducted in my mind from my bank account; I feel like it's ok to spend it. With my debit/credit card, I have to mentally calculate my bank balance and then decide if I want to spend the money, regardless of if I'm hungry and didn't get time to eat at the airport.

As I said, I know it's a bad economy and airlines need to make a profit. The crappy part is that we need to be able to fly. We don't have the luxury of time to drive to our destination and as I often regret, teleportation has yet to be invented. So, what do we do?

I'm not sure but I'm thinking that something has to change. Airlines need their profits but they're turning people off from flying because they're not raising their level of service to match the increasing prices. If they'd just treat passengers like people rather than cattle, that'd be a start. Also, do away with the class system. There's nothing more insulting than having a gate with a rope down the middle with a red carpet on one side for the 'elite' passengers. Ok, I get that businessmen who travel a lot get tired of us normal passengers being a little less efficient. I get that rich people pay more for their tickets to not be treated like cattle. But, really? Do we have to be quite so snobby as to have them walk on a red carpet? Really? It's not enough that we have to sit there patiently waiting to get on the plane knowing full well me might have to fight for overhead compartment space because we can't afford to pay $30 to check our bag? It's not enough that we know we Coach passengers are going to get stuck in the section with the crying babies and people who bring on really smelly food that pervades the air and makes us want to vomit?

Ironically, those businessmen and women who travel and get to walk on the red carpet are only getting to do so because they fly a lot. They rarely pay for their upgrades. Besides, they're travelling for business which means, chances are, they didn't even have to pay for their ticket. They can write off all their expenses so they can even check bags if they have to. Yes, I know I'm a little mean when I say this, but I often hope one of those business-suited men who stare at us 'cattle' with such disdain will trip on that red carpet and hold up the rest of the 'elite' line for a few moments.

So, who knows if I'll manage to book a ticket. I keep finding them at an affordable price only to see the exorbiant cost once fees and taxes have been added. Or, I find one that, even with the added charges, is still good only to see that it means a red-eye. I don't mind red-eyes sometimes but when it means I have to go to work as soon as I get off the plane, I prefer not to have to take one. Part of me likes the rabid search for the best price but when you're this close to the day you're going to fly, it's hard to find one. Wish me luck with that.

Of course, once I book my ticket, it means I get to go take my place with the rest of the cattle and experience the joys of flying coach.

Yippee.

Happy Tuesday.

Reflections of a Weekend....

I'm having trouble waking up today; my commute to work was one of those drives that seems like it takes forever. My mind feels sluggish; I'm hoping the cup of coffee I currently smell will wake me up a little otherwise it's going to be a very slow Monday.

It would be hard for it not to be a slow Monday. The weekend, as always, flew by. It was a really fun and busy weekend for me. I spent most of the time with my mother. We went to the farmer's market, to garage sales, to the grocery store, walking around the garden...they're all my favourite things to do with mum. Better yet, as I knew she would, she put me straight about my writing and helped me come up with an idea.

More importantly, she reminded me how to come up with ideas. Lately, I've been trying too hard. When I first started to write, I used to just sit down and wait for the words to creep up on me and leak out of me onto the computer screen. I felt as though I were just a filter for the characters waiting to be discovered. Lately, I feel as though I've been holding on too tightly, trying to push my characters and make them something they're not. It's taken the joy out of the writing because I'm holding myself to a ridiculously high standard which I'm not even sure I'm capable of reaching.

So, instead of doing that, I'm going to just...write. I have my idea now; it's going to have the elements of darkness I can't quite shed in my writing because I just find them so fascinating. Yet it'll also be different because I think it's time I did something new.

Aside from talk about my writing and spend time with my mother, I did get to see my sister, my niece and my brother-in-law. That's always fun. My niece is three and very much a princess. She even has the tiara. I was fortunate enough to be generously loaned her other tiara and so I spent the duration of my time with her adorned not only with my lovely purple crown but also an array of purple jewelry. My niece wore all pink; she's very much into pink. It was a lot of fun.

The thing I like most about weekends like the one I just had are the fact that they truly are weekends. I get to escape from everything that's routine, everything I do by rote on a daily basis and just...relax. I get to escape from work; there's no reason to really talk about it much with my family and there's not much to do on weekends so it really does feel like a mini holiday. I also got to escape from the Super Rapid Growing Lawn that exists at my house.

I've discovered my hlawn is abnormal. While all the other houses on the street seem to have nice normal lawns, mine seems to grow exponentially by the day. One day, I cut it so it's about an inch long, within three days, it's back to the length it was before I cut it. It's the most baffling thing. I'm thinking this autumn, I shall invest some free time in making some rather nice flower beds and planting some trees where the lawn currently resides. Anything to eliminate some of the grass. I keep hoping for one of those seemingly mythical teenage boys to walk by so I can get him to cut my grass for a low fee. This is what all my friends tell me to do: Find a neighbour kid to cut it.

The thing is, the neighbour kids all seem to be about seven or eight. I'm not so sure I really want one of them cutting my grass. The mower might be a bit tricky and, also, I'd worry about that whole child-labour thing. I have contemplated getting a lawn chair and sitting out on my street, waiting for a teenager to pass by so I can get him to cut my grass but I'm not sure it works like that. Though sitting out on my drive, watching the neighbourhood activity, does seem like the thing to do. In the evening, the older folk often pull out their lawn chairs and settle themselves down on their front stoops, watching the street's activity. The interesting thing is that they sit in pairs, husband and wife, just watching, side by side. They don't face one another as though having a conversation, they clearly are set up to be pure spectators.

I suppose it's definitely more interesting than television sometimes though so far, I haven't really seem much happen on the street. Cars drive by and people mow their lawns but that's about the extent of it.

Then again, perhaps if I did sit out, I'd figure out what the spectator-activity was really all about. Perhaps every now and again, a flock of teenage boys who love nothing more than to cut grass pass by and everyone in the neighbourhood gets to grab one to have their own personal lawn mowing boy.

I'm not so sure though. The most I ever see is a very active old man running by in spandex and a sweat band. That's one of those things I'm not sure I'd want to see too often though he does seem to do it daily. It's the spandex...it's just one of those sights that kind of stays with you.

So, my grass continues to grow and I continually wonder how to get one of those personal lawn-mowing boys. In the meantime, I'll do my own mowing. And try to time it so I don't see Mr. Spandex jogging by.

Happy Monday.

The Promise of the Weekend (and the escape from Eau d'egg)

It's finally Friday and it's shaping up to be a beautiful weekend. For the first time since June, we're supposed to have temperatures in the 90's. I think it's going to feel like summer. Though I noticed that my grass needed to be mowed this morning, I have the luxury of ignoring it since I'm heading to my parent's this weekend for some much-needed family time and relaxation.

I love the drive to my parent's house. I haven't done it in so long, I'm looking forward to it. I especially love it on days like this, days when the green glow of the Midwest will be on display and enhanced by the sunlight. Then again, I actually like driving. As long as I have good music or company, I find driving to be relaxing.

I never do anything terribly exciting when I'm at my parent's house, nothing I normally wouldn't do if I were home. Yet it's a way of recharging. I love to walk around my mum's garden. She's done an amazing job this year with it, the blending of the flowers perfect in their vivid colours. I love to see if there's anything ripe that I can eat. Earlier in the year there are cherries and strawberries. At the moment, it's tomatoes. There's little better to eat in the world than a fresh-picked tomato, warm from the sun.

All I have to do is get through work today and the weekend is mine. I'm glad. Lately, work has been better. I feel like I'm no longer an invisible entity, bored out of my skull. Don't get me wrong, having been the Mistress of Multi-tasking at my last job, this job is a lot slower-paced. Yet I finally feel like I'm doing something that actually has some merit, even if it is a little dull.

That's another reason why I have to get my writing back on track. I can deal with dull work if I have something to escape to and writing a new story or novel will allow me to do that. Sometimes I need to escape; my physical location not only is in close proximity to the men's bathroom but also near the breakroom. This means whatever someone makes for breakfast or lunch, I smell it. I don't mind normal food smells that come from heating up leftovers or frozen meals. Those smells are harmless, smells like cheese, garlic and even cumin from Mexican food. It's the other smells that drive me crazy; someone inevitably makes eggs which, to me, smells revolting. I like the taste of eggs but the smell of them is disgusing. There are times when people make food on the George Forman grill. I have one of those at home. I'm actually amazed that people go to the trouble of actually cooking at work. I come from a former working environment where we lost our microwaves because the smell of people's lunches overwhelmed the building.

So, having someone make a grilled cheese on the George Foreman is...interesting. It seems like a lot of work to do that at lunch but who am I to judge? I just wish I couldn't always smell the odor of heating metal as it gets warm. Sadly, for some reason, it doesn't fill the air with the aroma of melting cheese and toasting bread; all I can smell is that vaguely metallic heat and I'm not sure why.

At the moment, I'm smelling Eau d'Egg with a hint of Warm Vanilla Sugar. This means that our faithful air-scenter still hasn't given up her quest to make the men's room smell less...manly. She kindly made it her mission to rid the air of the eggy-smell by enthusiastically squirting her Warm Vanilla Sugar Room Spray into my area, that of the breakroom and, of course, the men's bathroom. Unfortunately, it didn't help and the smells are sort of....layered. I keep hoping she's going to run out of that room spray but it seems to be holding up quite well. I wonder what would happen if it accidentally went....missing. Of course, then I'm sure we'd get a replacement and I'd be afraid of what might replace it.

Still, I do admire her vigilence. It takes a lot of dedication to keep trying to change a man's habits.

Thankfully, both smells are fading, slowly but surely. I'll have a couple of hours' break before the lunch rush begins and the smell of Lean Cuisines fill the air.

In the meantime, I'm content to be happy it's Friday. The weekend lies ahead, within grasping distance. The sun is shining and it's a lovely summer day. Even with the aroma of Egg Beaters and Warm Vanilla Sugar pervading my nostrils, I can be glad about those things. I hope the weekend is a good one for you all.

Happy Friday.

In Search of Writing Inspiration and Discipline...

I can't complain about gloomy weather as the sun is shining and it looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. My drive was sunlit and green as I drove through the hills and I think at least for a day, we have a break from the threat of rain.

I'm glad it's Thursday. The weekend is getting close and I can feel the impatience in me growing as I subconsciously count down the days.

Last night, I thought I was going to sit down and write for what would be the first time in many months. It didn't happen, unfortunately. I seem to be experiencing quite a bit of self-doubt. Every idea I come up with seems to be silly or unoriginal. Every time I try to put the words to paper, I hear this faint whisper in my mind saying, "Why bother, it'll probably just be bad anyway?"

I'm trying to banish that whisper in my mind and push on. I'm also trying to ignore that fact that I keep reading that there are no original ideas in the world anymore. Looking at the bookstores lately, that actually seems to be true. Vampires have taken over the literary world and no one seems to mind.

I don't really mind; I like vampires. Trouble is, if I give in to the trend, by the time I've written a vampire novel which couldn't possibly be very original since there's not much original to say about vampires other than the fact that they can't go out in the sun because they sparkle. Which is pretty original, if a little too cuddly for my darker tastes. Also, by the time I'd written one, the trend would be over and the literary world will have moved on.

So, I sit at my computer in the evenings wondering if I really have the right to call myself a writer if I'm not writing. I have written. I just haven't done much lately.

Still, I'm going to try to keep writing. A wise friend of mine suggested I just write crap. Maybe something will come of the crap and maybe it won't. Even if it doesn't, at least I'll be writing.

I like that idea. The problem I'm having now is that I'm having to refresh myself on how to be a writer. It takes a little discipline which I used to have quite a lot of. These days, I'm having to re-fight the urge to procrastinate. That Direct TV is just so...tempting. The stupid DVR records the shows I consider mindless fluff and yet it's fluff that just seems so comfortable. It's so tempting to get home from work, walk out in the garden to see if my tomatoes are finally ripening (they are!), look for the bunny and then go inside to kick off my shoes for the day, sit back with the remote control and...veg.

For a while, it was ok. I'd just moved. I'd just been to Comic-Con. I needed to relax. I think that's now just a convenient excuse. I've had my relaxation, now it's time to remind myself that when I do write, it's one of the best feelings in the world. It's my reason for getting up, going to work and dealing with the politics of my office. It's the reason that when things at work make me a little crazy, I can go home and remind myself that it's just a job, writing is my craft. At the moment, without having a project to work on, it's hard to remember that.

I'm going to though. I need to drown out those horrible negative voices in my head. Who cares if what I write is rubbish? It's the writing I like, the process of making up stuff, of weaving words together in ways I've never done before. It's the feeling that I've made something new, something that seems original.

In the meantime, I might have to hide my Direct-TV remote. There's just too many episodes of Throwdown with Bobby Flay, Cash in the Attic, Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares and Iron Chef to watch. I'm starting to think I might have to write about food since that seems to be the thing I've been watching most. Then I could call it...research!

Seriously though, I do need to find my discipline again. Since I'm going to my parent's this weekend, I think I'll have one of the conversations I treasure with my mother. She's great at helping me figure stuff out and she's good for my fragile ego. Usually, I leave with some good ideas. Hopefully that'll happen this weekend.

And, if not, there's always vampires. I'm thinking a vampire food critic. That might actually be original. Especially if he can only drink blood and he's obsessed with food anyway.

I need to stop watching the Food Network. This is why I never let myself have cable TV before. It's running my life. Help!

Happy Thursday.

Rain, Quiche and a Monkeypant's Mother's Day

Today is another gloomy day; I don't think we're going to see the sun at all. However, the storms have passed, with only the lingering chance of a shower remaining.

I'm trying not to notice the effect that the rain is having on my lawn but I'm noticing that when I pull into my garage after work, I'm looking to see how much it's grown. Growing means mowing.

I have noticed I have a new pet bunny though. Every evening, he sits in the same spot of my back lawn and has a nibble. Last night, he actually came onto my patio. When I looked out, I noticed he'd bought a friend who was leaning against the fence where the yappy neighbour dogs normally bark, as if keeping a lookout for them.

I'm hoping the bunnies aren't eating my green tomatoes. Something is and it's not making me happy. Normally, by now, they'd be red tomatoes but our influx of rain is keeping the tomatoes green. The nice thing is that I'll hopefully be able to eat them later in the year than normal. As long as they stop disappearing.

The scariest part of all of this is that I'm noticing how domestic I'm sounding. I'm not used to that. We apartment dwellers fake domesticity; we dabble but it's hard to truly 'nest' because we have to keep a constant awareness of what damage we're 'allowed' to do to our apartments. As a homeowner, it's quite a different story. I've been celebrating by putting all manner of holes in the walls. I've put quite a few pictures up just because I can.

Last night, I decided to cook my first actual 100% homemade dish. I've been cooking dinner but it's been things like frozen pizza and salad, stuff that's easy. I made a quiche.

I didn't know I liked quiche until a couple of weeks ago when I went to Comic-Con. I tried a bit of my friend's when she ordered it for breakfast and it was like an epiphany. I had found something new that had never appealed to me before and now, suddenly, it was delicious.

That's pretty much how the food in my life has been. As a child, I was a horribly picky eater. I feel bad for that now because I had one of the good mothers who wouldn't say "Eat what I cook or go hungry." Instead, she'd substitute things for me, things she knew I'd eat. I never liked mashed potatoes and am still not a huge fan but at least now I will eat them. As a child, my mum would make me a baked potato in the microwave instead, just so I didn't miss out.

The one thing I always feel horribly about, even now, is my mum's mincemeat dinner. As a Brit, mincemeat is a pretty common meal. Basically, we take ground beef, spice it and add stuff, brown it in a pan, add some gravy and serve it with mashed potatoes. It's the same sort of thing that goes in Shepard's Pie but a little runnier with the gravy. We used to have it with noodles which I think is a little bit of the German side of my family coming in.

Anyway, mum would make mince, as we called it, and I never ate it. I ate around it. I'd eat the noodles and the peas that went with it. I'd eat the gravy but I never liked the mince. Yet, on weekends, we'd get to go to my granny's and she, too, would make mince. Except....for her, I'd clean my plate. I ate every bit of my mincemeat and often would have seconds. Nowadays, I feel a wee bit guilty about that because it wasn't so different to my mother's and yet because granny cooked it, I'd eat it. For what it's worth, mum....I'm sorry.

The ironic thing is I make my own mincemeat dish now now. I'm still not as keen on the meat. I'd rather have gravy with a little meat than have meat with a little gravy. Yet it's one of those dishes that my mother, my sister and I have all seperately fed to friends and family and each time, they clean their plates because they enjoy it. I suppose that's as close to 'passing on the family recipe' as we've ever come. It's a nice feeling though.

Mincemeat isn't the only dish I've learned to accept as I get older. Nowadays, I'll try many, many things which I previously scorned as "vile" and "revolting". Quiche is apparently one of them. My first attempt involved spinach, Canadian bacon and fresh sage. I have to say, it was actually pretty good considering I'd never made one before. I even made the pastry. Apparently, that's quite unusual because when I told my coworkers, they were all "Wow, really? You're ambitious." The thing is, the pastry was the easiest part. I didn't even have to use a recipe: I just called my mother who is now, in my opinion, the Pastry Queen because, let me tell you, her instructions were perfect. My pastry was light, tasty and didn't overpower the quiche because I rolled it out thinly.

This blog is turning out to be a bit of a tribute to my mother. That was unplanned. However, why not? Just because Hallmark has scheduled Mother's Day for May, doesn't mean I can't make my own Mother's Day. So, hey, mum, if you're reading this, thanks for everything. Thanks for not hanging up on me when I use you as my verbal punching bag when I'm stressed, thanks for all the asparagus you gave me this year. Thanks for always lifting Sausage onto the sofa even though we know he's capable of getting up there on his own. And, most of all, thanks for teaching me to cook, dad might be fancy but your food is always the stuff I crave.

So, I'm making today Monkeypants' Mother's Day. To my mummy-Monkeypants, you're the best. I'd give you a piece of my quiche but, unfortunately, by the time you get it on Friday, it might be nasty. But it's the thought that counts, right?

To my other readers, sorry I'm a little random again today. Sometimes I just have to go where the blog takes me. Thanks, as always for reading. I appreciate you all.

Happy Wednesday.

A Dark and Stormy Day...

Today is definitely a day I would have stayed in bed if I could. In stark contrast to yesterday's bright and breezy morning, today started very...darkly. When my alarm went off, I thought I'd set it wrong as my room was still pitch black and there was no sign of daylight outside. Unfortunately, my alarm wasn't wrong. It really was time to get up.

Today is supposed to be stormy, according to weather reports. One peek outside my window and I could see that, for once, they were right. Though I could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance, we hadn't had any rain in my area.

When I went out to my car to leave for work, the garage was dark. Usually in the morning, the filtered light sinks into the dark space and I can at least see where I'm going. Today, that was not the case. When I pulled out into the road, the only world I can use to describe the world was...eerie. I know I used that word yesterday in relation to the fog. I'm using it in relation to the world before a storm today. I seemed to be the only car on the road, my light-sensitive headlights popped on, under the impression it was still night.

I drove out of my neighbourhood, not seeing a soul. For a brief moment, I felt like I was in one of those end-of-the-world films in which I am the only person left. I did not like that feeling too much.

Finally, I saw other headlights and I relaxed a little. I got onto the interstate and suddenly the skies opened. I've seen some heavy rain but this was some of the worst. It was coming down so heavily, I seriously felt like it was going to dent my car. The lightning flashed around me, followed by the harsh crack of the thunder. The hard part about rain like that is it's more dangerous to stop and try to pull over than to keep going. So I focused on the white line that marked my lane, stayed inside it, slowed my speed and kept going.

Other drivers weren't so cautious. They sped on by, slipping and sliding, cutting other drivers off. Those kind of drivers are dangerous because they act like they're above the weather. They think, "It's just rain." The thing is, it might be rain but it can still be dangerous. My years of driving in L.A. have taught me some things. We didn't get much rain there but when we did, it was heavy and when it came down, the roads were slick. It would be six months of build-up of oil and grease on the road, rising to the surface in the first heavy rain of the season. Yes, it was just rain but the roads are as slippery as if they were coated in ice.

So, I learned how to stop and start with caution, careful not to fishtail at stop lights. I learned to see where the highest part of the road was so that I knew which lane would have the least amount of water sitting stagnantly in it.

I was thankful for that experience today. I kept waiting for a break in the rain but still it kept coming. My body was tense, every part of me concentrating.

Finally, the rain did slow and I relaxed a little. I felt as though I'd won some kind of battle, I have to admit.

When I got to work, the rain had almost stopped and there was no trace of the violent storm I'd just seen. We're supposed to have storms like that all day. Part of me hopes we do; I do love a good thunderstorm. The thing is, I know that if we have them, out there, some poor souls are driving and while I'm inside, enjoying the protection of the four walls around me, they're struggling to see, to keep their cars on the road and fight the storm.

Neverless, from the security of the inside, the storm seems less ominous. The skies are still dark but at least it looks like daytime now. There was something fascinating about that apocalyptic darkness though, that I will say. Still, I could have done without the torrential rains that followed. I can hear the far off rumble of the thunder, even from my basement cubicle. Looks like it really is going to be a stormy day.

Happy Tuesday.

A Bright and Sunny Monday Morning...

I don't think there's any way around the fact that Monday mornings are...Monday mornings. No matter how much sleep you try to get the day before, no matter how good the weekend, a Monday is still a Monday, even if you pretend it's not.

Today is a beautiful Monday morning here; there's no humidity in sight, the morning air was a little chilly, the sun is shining and the grass is gleaming with dew. Even my grass at home is gleaming with dew, freshly mown, I'd like to add. I'm still not a fan of mowing, but I've discovered if I just do it, it's not so bad. Though I did get chased by a swarm of gnats the entire time I mowed. I felt like a horse. I hate gnats.

When I drive to work on mornings like this, the scenery is beautiful. The road I take cuts through some hills and its just the most glorious shades of green with all of the grass and trees and plants. Today, as with most of the cooler summer days, there's a spot that's foggy; it lasts for less than a mile and it seems to come out of nowhere. It's thick fog. I think it actually comes from the river that I pass over daily but it masks the countryside before and after. When I emerge from the fog, the world is clear and green again but for a few brief minutes, it's another world entirely; one that's chilly, slightly murky and a little eerie.

In the office, Mondays start slowly. People stumble down in search of coffee, stop to chat and then go about their business. I like that; I like the peace in the mornings. Lately, it hasn't been peaceful around here. There's been a lot of social activity, cleaning and other events that make our normally-quiet office a little hectic. Office politics are a little odd around here; it's not what I'm used to. It's not a bad thing but I've never worked for a company where the personal/professional line is quite so blurry at times where managers are friends with the employees outside of work as well as in the office. I think it's because I've worked for much more structured companies in the past. As I said, it's not necessarily bad but it adds a certain complicated layer to a company that's already a little lacking in communication.

Today, though, it's a nice day. I had a very nice weekend; I did quite a bit of unpacking. The house is starting to seem like my own. I set up my 'office' yesterday. This will be my writing room and it was important to make it feel right. I bought a couple of new bookcases and so while I write, I will be surrounded by books. That seems perfect to me.

As a result of my unpacking, I got to behold the powers of craigslist.org had a ton of empty boxes which I folded flat when I was finished. Having inherited them from someone at work who'd recently moved, I didn't want to recycle them because they still have some use in them. Thus, I placed an add on my local craigslist for "Free Boxes". Less than three hours later, the boxes were picked up by someone who needed them for their own move. Now I have a lot more empty space and they have their boxes; everyone's happy.

The one thing I've noticed about moving into my own home is that people tend to be pessimists. If I say, "I don't want to mow the grass," someone inevitably says, "wait until you have to shovel snow!" When I first became a homeowner, I had many people say variations of "Welcome to the headaches of homeownership!" As a first time homebuyer, I was hoping for a few more, "Hey, Captain Monkeypants! That's pretty cool. Congrats!" than the more practical "You need your own screwgun now" comments I got. I know people are trying to be helpful but sometimes a little encouragement goes a little further than inspiring a slight sense of dread.

That aside, I'm enjoying being a homeowner. I turned in my apartment keys on Friday and I'm still experiencing the joys of knowing that I'm now only responsible for my house, I'm not 'living' in dual places. Everytime I walk in my house, I feel this sense of rightness, of knowing that I made the right decision. When I do my laundry, I still get a small thrill that I can do it whenever I like, no quarters required. Even when I mow the grass, I know it's my grass and if I want to extend my patio out eventually to cut down on the grass, I can do that.

So, while it's a Monday morning, it seems like it's a pretty good one so far. It's a beautiful day, I can go home and relax without having to stop by my apartment to pick up more boxes. That's a lovely feeling.

Happy Monday.