40 Miles

I drive 40 miles to work, which amounts to about two and a half to three hours in the car every day. Needless to say, Steve Inskeep, Michele (MEE-shell, get it right) Norris, and Tom Ashbrook and I are really good friends. I’m not such a fan of the local guys, I’m afraid to say. Bob Oakes always sounds like he’s reading, and the evening woman – I can’t remember her name – pronounces “accurate” like this: ack-a-rit. WHAT? How are you on the radio? Also, she always sounds like she’s smiling, even when she’s reporting REALLY bad news. This drives me crazy.

Anyway, the point is, I listen to a lot of NPR when I drive to and from work, and I have a lot of strong opinions about the anchors. No, wait. That wasn’t the point at all. The point was that yesterday and today (yes, it’s Saturday…but sometimes you forget your key fob in your office and have to drive to Braintree on the weekend) I DIDN’T listen to NPR, and instead mused upon the following topics:

1. The first unseasonably warm day of the year. It’s mid-February, and way too early to think about spring. Except, yesterday I thought about spring. Or, more accurately, I felt spring. I don’t feel winter, or summer, or fall, but I always feel spring. And spring feels like…anticipation. Hope. It makes you want to fill up your chest with deep, clean breaths. (Sometimes it also makes you want to skip to your car, but you don’t do that because your neighbors would think you were very strange.)  It’s delicious. I love spring.

2. The moon. It was a full moon last night (so my calendar told me), but it was cloudy. Everyone I know should be grateful about this, because when I see a full moon hanging low in the sky – when it’s really huge and brilliant, so big that you stop for a second (just a second) to ask yourself if it really IS the moon – I sometimes call people to tell them.  (“GO OUTSIDE AND LOOK AT THE MOON! IT’S REALLY PRETTY!”) The conversation goes about as you’d expect it would. (General confusion, followed by muted agreement, followed by an awkward goodbye.) So, no moon phone calls last night. You’re welcome, guys.

3. DALE EARNHARDT. Okay, confession: I did listen to a few minutes of NPR this morning. Which is the only reason I would be thinking about Dale Earnhardt. In fact, I’m not 100% convinced I would have even known who Dale Earnhardt was before listening to the NPR story (sorry, umpteen NASCAR fans who definitely frequent my blog). But anyway, he’s a guy, and he raced cars, and he died at Daytona ten years ago. Fine. Sad. The point is, they were interviewing some guy who knew him, or raced with him, or also has a car, or something, and he was all, “Blah blah, clearly there is a God because how could the world be this cruel and there NOT be a blessed afterlife?” YES! YES! Congratulations, Guy Who Knew Dale Earnhardt! You have saved me from burning in hell for all eternity with your infallible argument that there must be a heaven because it would really suck if there weren’t. Thank you.

Okay, I’m done. Need I emphasize again that nothing in this blog is at all important or meaningful, and that I’m fully aware of this fact? Mostly, I’m just enjoying the exercise of writing creatively again. It’s fun, and also I get to be outraged about things, which I always enjoy.

Blogging: A+.

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