Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Six thousand barfing children

...at least that's what it feels like over here! (Okay. It was only one, but it was repeatedly, pink, and all over me.)

We can't say goodbye to winter without some round of sickness making a visit, I guess. Feeling homebound but grateful that my husband took the heavy driving rotation this afternoon. And I will return to the book typing endeavor very soon. Thanks for reading. As a hyper-social hermit, I appreciate road unity very much --- do you know the phenomena? Like I'm really impressed that people are obeying the traffic light system. It seems like a lot to ask, societally, and yet it goes off without a hitch. My first glimpse of severe road unity was a decade ago, on the Grapevine, when I didn't have any comfort level about driving in Los Angeles. It was white-knuckles all the way. My husband and I were caravan-ing for some reason, so two cars meant I had to drive. I was pretty miffed by the task, as I recall. Mostly scared of lanes that travel in the same direction, and being expected to keep a certain pace or an awareness of my surroundings. And then I remembered that life is about doing stuff that terrifies me, to some degree, so why not just ride it out? Anyway, a UHaul van was on fire on the side of the road, pulled over, in a sheen of flames and fog. The traffic was so heavy, we were making the ascent into Santa Clarita, and there they were, with likely their most treasured possessions burning into the hills along the 5 freeway. If aliens looked down it'd look like nobody cared, because nobody was pulled over to help. But we cared, it was palpable, this unity, we're travelling and your life is exploding, and our outreach is so limited, but WE ARE WITH YOU BUDDY.

vintage Caltrans, you mock me still
The great thing is my husband doesn't recall this happening at all. And he was totally there, weaving slowly ahead of me in the golden darkness. When I try to explain road unity, and how momentous and beautiful this thing was that we shared, he shrugs. Me? Psychologically scarred, changed, a permanent reference point of humanity buoying each other along. Those Angelenos are hard. (actually, he's from Orange County and they're all pretty soft...)

Anyway, blogging is often like that. I dig the unity, stolen in early morning solitude, not so much intersecting as parallel travels, but an illusion of intellect tossed around together --- and I miss it when it goes away.

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