I pin things here.
I write short things here.
My author page is here.
My photos are here.
I talk about books here.
Curves ahead, next 175 miles
January 4, 2007 You know when you're driving on a freeway and there's traffic? Not stop and go traffic, but swift-moving, cars are all around you traffic? And you drive for a while like this, headed out of a city, and suddenly, instantly, it seems, it's only you and a couple of other cars, and you know that everyone didn't get off at that last exit, so you ask yourself, where did all the cars go? It's eerie, one minute you were all flowing back and forth between lanes, and suddenly the freeway is quiet.
It's weird when that happens.
I did one of my marathon trips to Marin County yesterday, went for work and I'm right at the point when I can't take the Leaf Baby with me, because he's too big and into everything for me to be able to work, and I can't stay away overnight without him, so I have to drive there and back in the same day, and I never leave quite early enough, and I always get caught up in something I shouldn't on my way down. Yesterday it was finding myself a new book, which only took about 26 minutes, but 26 minutes is a lot when you have a seven hour round trip commute. It won't always be like this, I tell myself, as I'm driving home thinking strange thoughts to myself, squinting out through the windshield into wet, dark, night, blinded by other people's headlights, feeling like I'm stabbed in the throat every time I swallow because this sickness has managed to cling to me limply. I'll be able to sleep over, within the next couple of months. I used to be able to take Leaf with me, before he woke up and started noticing the world. Carpet! Small dirty rocks on carpet! Taste them! Papers! Crumple them! Keyboards! Slobber on them! We're just in a weird patch, is all.
Not that I'm complaining, at ALL, but I just thought you should know that those roads that people say, "Hey, don't take that road, it's slow and narrow and way too curvy. It'll take twice as long, and make you sick, besides," are fashioned after the road that I live on. VERY CURVY. VERY NARROW. VERY DARK. I'm totally not complaining. Although I've mentioned being sick every day this week, and I'll probably tell you about it tomorrow, as well. Thanks for all the well-wishing, by the way. I don't feel that I and my measly little gremlin sickness deserve them, but I feel warmed by them.
Reader Comments (3)
That is so true about the traffic. And I've noticed it's same for coming into traffic. The roads totally dead, a couple of cars maybe, and then *bam* - where'd all these people come from?!
Hey sweet Rae!
I too wish you well, and the germs to go away, wow, what a tale, i know that patch you're going through with leaf baby, it's so interesting how children go through really noticable growths,
my little angel revati has recently come to the realization of ' no nap' 'i am not napping' it's just so fun being awake i guess...
what is your job? i am just returning to work after a six month lapse of being the mom at home,
it is nice when you can go away overnight, i like those little breaks...
you are the superstar mom!
i don't drive because i owe icbc a bit of money, and my partner ron has done the three hour commute thing, it is draining, and i know the kind of road you are talking about, we were comuting from the farm to kamloops regularly when we lived there this past summer, dark nights with deep ditches, and narow steep gravel roads, and then ahhh when you make it to the top of that hill and you are home with the fam and the fire is on, mmmm..\\
i love reading your blog, thanks for sharing
sisterly,
melissa
Maybe the traffic conumdrum is in fact a sign that you are going waaaay to fast? Or too 'going to bowls with a granny hat on the back seat' slow. One or the other, anyway!.