...and you can go to Helen Hunt for it, part three.

While I am at a loss as to how something like this gets left behind at the Transfer Center, I think I am more baffled why someone is carrying around these two items to begin with. Why would you walk around with a salt shaker and a steak knife? Anyone have any ideas?

...and you can go to Helen Hunt for it, part two.

I found this at the TTA Transfer Center two days ago. If you look closely, you may be able to see the tiny yellow pool in the bottom of the urinal bedpan thingy. Personally, if you need to carry around a roll of toilet paper and a urine bottle, it doesn't seem like the kind of thing you abandon just because your Crazy Bag Lady cart has blow out. Maybe that's just me.

Bus stop, bus go, she stays love grows, under my umbrella

Last week sometime I lost my umbrella, presumably on the bus. I went to the lost and found and described my umbrella to the nice customer service lady. She gave what I thought was my umbrella and I went on my way. Once I got on the bus, I realized I did not have my umbrella and promptly returned the one I had. I figured that someone had found and kept my umbrella, which made me a little upset. Turns out, I was sort of right.

Today is Thursday, which means Boyfriend is driving. As I am getting on the bus, he's digging through his bag and says to me, "I have something for you." My initial thought is..."your undying love and devotion?" Alas, it was only my umbrella. I sit down and he starts talking to me. He tells me how after I got off the bus last week, some guy sat in my seat, saw my umbrella and told him about it. He then says that he told the guy he knew who's it was and that he'd hang on to it. Boyfriend tells me how he's been using it this past week. My inner 7th grader is all like, "Oh, okay, you can keep it if you want" but all I can manage to say is "Yeah, it has been rainy, hasn't it?" Oy. I swear there's a part of me, the part that talks to cute boys, that never grew up.

I was talking to a coworker about how I returned the other umbrella to the lost and found because it wasn't mine and that I was hoping someone else would do the same. He essentially told me I was crazy and the last honest person on earth. That makes me really sad. Why not return it? It's not mine. I didn't pay for it. Is it really that crazy that I'd return an umbrella that wasn't mine? I bought fresh radishes the other day. I had two bunches in the bag, but the cashier only rang up one. So I told her there were two in the bag. Recently at the Farmer's Market, I was given back too much change. So I returned it. Is this behavior really *that* odd? Am I that much of a freak? Okay, wait. Don't answer that.

Now if you'll excuse me, my inner 7th grader has to go build a shrine to my umbrella.

Somewhere inside me there is a tiny Jewish grandmother trying to get out.

During the summer, the buses have a hard time with the heat, particularly on the 95+ degree days we have here. The TTA has been parking an empty bus here and here around the Triangle, so it's ready and waiting when a bus in use breaks down. They leave an extra one in downtown Raleigh, downtown Durham, at the District Drive Park and Ride, at the Transfer Center, etc. This is a great policy. There was one day the my bus broke down in front of the Vet School. Within ten minutes, a new bus was there ready to go. They have also been keeping a mechanic handy at the Transfer Center. That mechanic is Lester. Lester is the nicest guy in the world. He always comes to ask me how my day was. He says when he hits the lottery, he's going to buy the TTA new buses and himself a hammock to tie up between these two trees at the Transfer Center. I see Lester every day, so naturally we've become quite friendly. He works two jobs. The other one is at a drug company fixing the equipment. To be honest here, there's something about Lester that reminds me a little of my grandfather, which is why I think I like him so much. As usual, I saw Lester today. He wasn't feeling well, but he was there to make sure the buses were running, out in the wind and rain. I am making a batch of matzo ball soup and will bring him some tomorrow. That should fix him up real good.

The matzo ball soup got me thinking. My friend Jake and I have been scheming for as long as I can remember, trying to come up with a food booth we can set up at the NC State Fair. Jake is, according to his wife, "Jew-ish." I think we've tossed around the idea of selling his Heeb-B-Q. He makes a fantastic smoked pork butt, North Carolina style. My latest idea is Jewish fair food. "Rabbi Jake's, Good For What Ails Ya!" will have deep fried matzo balls, brisket on a stick, gefilte fish on a stick...you can see where this is going, can't you? I think this is it. The Million Dollar Idea! We'll make everything Kosher. Our truck will have a picture of him dressed like a Hassidic Rabbi. It'll be awesome. What do you think?

Redneck DUI

This makes me wonder why I have never watched Reno 911.

Blog post, untitled

I had to catch the bus on Miami Boulevard today. It was windy and rainy today. I was wearing a button up shirt that was a little fitted and a little flared at the bottom, you know the typical woman's dress shirt. As I was standing at the bus stop, a gust of wind started to blow the bottom of my shirt up. I caught it just in time, right as an 18 wheeler truck went speeding by and honked at me. Yes, yes, I am *that* hot.

Tonight, I had to do laundry. As in, if I don't do laundry tonight, I go to work naked tomorrow. I washed everything I have tonight, except the yoga pants, t-shirt and undies I am currently wearing. I mean everything. All five jeans, all of my black t-shirts...every last one of them people!...ever-ree-thing-uh. And I am pleased to say I got it all in in three loads. I rewarded myself with a lime popsicle (from mi novio on the bike). Of course, every surface in my apartment, both vertical and horizontal, is now covered with clothing in varying degrees of dampness. In the course of doing laundry, I found a golf tee bouncing around in the dryer with my load of undies and pajamas and one freshly bleached and laundered pair of men's Hanes tightey whities hanging on the drying rack. Oh the joys of shared laundry facilities.

I have made the decision to not go anywhere for Labor Day. I am actually going to stay home for three days in a row. What a novel concept.

Cross Eyed Mary fell asleep on the bus tonight. It was the funniest thing. Passengers usually pass out. Some peoples' heads roll back and hit the handle thingy on the seat and sit bolt upright. Others' heads loll to the side. Pretty much what you'd see on an airplane, right? Not her. She was sitting perfectly still and upright, with her eyes closed. She was holding her left hand up, in a fist, like she was giving blood. She sat in that position for a while and finally opened her eyes, blinked a few times and looked around, like she had been sleeping.

It's deja vu all over again, or Oh hai. Can I has a ride? Part Deux

This morning, I woke up at 6:15 AM as usual. I took a shower, got dressed, threw breakfast and lunch together and went out the door. I got to my bus stop at 6:55 AM, as usual. The bus arrived to whisk me off the RTP as it does five days a week. I arrived at my office at 7:57, as usual. I got logged in to my computer on time and proceeded to make myself a cup of tea and fill my trusty grey Nalgene bottle and waked back to my desk.

Everything about my day until this point was routine, with one exception. When I got dressed this morning, I failed to zip my pants. One of these days, I swear I will get it all together BEFORE I leave the house. I swear.

I ran by the pharmacy and the Fresh Market after work. I just had to show you what I got.

A wee caramel mousse, before


A wee caramel mousse, after


I know the picture is a bit fuzzy, I'm still getting used to the new camera. If you have a Fresh Market nearby, you should go. Their pastry case will make everything better.

"Tell her what she's won, Bob!"

I haven't seen Bob since I yelled at him last week, was it? I got to the Transfer Center before my second bus arrived, the bus that brings Bob into my life every morning. I happened to be standing exactly where the doors would open when the bus stopped. I saw Bob sitting in the front of the bus. He apparently saw me. Before the bus stopped, I saw him get up and run to the back door. He practically tripped over himself and everyone else. The second the doors opened, he bolted out the door and around the back. He didn't stop. He didn't wave. He didn't look at me. It appears, loyal readers, I may finally be Bob Free. I think in this one instance, I would prefer to be feared rather than liked.

While I am feeling pretty smug at the moment, I can't rule out the possibility of my spending eternity in bits and pieces in his tote bags. Speaking of his tote bags, y'all...he only had one this morning. Normally he has three or four, thus proving my theory that you can tell how nuts someone is by the number of tote bags they carry on the bus. Maybe the meds are finally kicking in?

Now I remember why I haven't been to a Denny's in 12 years.

I went to see my doctor today because I haven't been sleeping, well, at all recently. When I was leaving to catch the bus, I had about thirty minutes before the bus arrived. I was a little hungry and walked over to the Denny's figuring I could get a grilled cheese quickly. (mmm, grilled cheese. the reason I will never be vegan) When I walked in, I was greeted by Carmen who asked if I wanted to see a menu. I asked her if they made a grilled cheese and told her that's what I wanted. I asked if I could get it to go. Carmen walks over to the register and starts to ring me up. She says it comes with fries. Since I plan on walking over to the bus stop while I am eating this, I say I want to pass on the fries. Big mistake.

"But it comes with fries." Clearly I have offended Carmen on many levels.

"No, thanks. I just want a grilled cheese." Confused look.

"Can they just not put fries in the bag?"

"But it comes with fries."

"Look, I have to catch a bus in 20 minutes. All I want is the sandwich."

"Let me see if we can do that." She calls a manager.

"You have to see if it's okay to not serve someone fries?"

"You don't want fries?" says the mamanger with a very confused look on her face.

"Seriously, I don't. Call me crazy. The bus is coming in 15 minutes. I'm just a little hungry. I don't want to miss my bus."

"Do you want a salad or soup or..." I cut her off. Soup? It's 95 out today and I'm walking down the street.

"All I want is a grilled cheese sandwich. And a Coke. That's it. Is that possible?"

"Yeah, okay. We can't charge you less. Some people get really mad."

"Right now, I couldn't care less. Please. The bus is coming."

Finally, they ring me up. They are still confused.

Carmen walks by with a handful of ketchup packs and a plastic bag with plastic cutlery. I stop her. "I don't need all of that. Can they just wrap the sandwich in some foil?" says I.

"Oh yeah, okay. You don't need this?" says she.

A minute later she returns and hands me a giant plastic bag which contains a big styrofoam box which contains my precious grilled cheese. She grabs a couple napkins and hands them to me while she says, "have a nice day! Come back and see us soon!"

"Unlikely," I reply. Her response was another confused look.

In their defense, it was one of the best damn grilled cheese sandwiches I've ever had.

Oh hai. Can I has a ride?

I left work this evening like I do every evening and walked down to Miami Boulevard to catch the bus. For those of you outside the Triangle, Miami Boulevard is a very busy road in what's called Research Triangle Park, or RTP. This where most people in this area work, at companies like IBM, Glaxo, and BASF. Needless to say, this hotbed of science and technology creates a lot of traffic. I had to run across Miami then walk a little ways to get to the bus stop. I was wearing a button up shirt today and as usual, had my backpack on. As I step onto the grass on the side of the road, I realize a button has come undone on my shirt. The one right in the middle that contains The Ladies. So, I'm walking down the side of one of the busiest roads in RTP, buttoning my shirt, and I realize no one has slowed down or honked or anything. Hey...what am I? Chopped liver? Not that I wasn't totally embarassed, but c'mon, I'm kinda cute! Jeez. Tough crowd.

I am happy to report that Funquita drove like a normal person today. She was actually able to deliver me to Hillsborough Street so that I could get to the art supply store before they closed. With time to spare. Clearly she knew how important it was for me to pick up black paint and a tiny brush to finish Ian's canvases tonight.

On my way home, I saw The Popsicle Bike. Recently, I have seen this young Hispanic kid in a bike, riding up and down Hillsborough Street. On the front of the bike is a big cooler, full of popsicles. I was finally in a position to stop him today. I was on the phone with L, told her I had to go, and hung up on her. (Sorry, L) He was on the other side of the street, on the same block, headed away from me. I started running up a slight hill, in a skirt no less, waving my lunch box, shouting, "Hey, Ese!" I finally got his attention and made a mad dash across the street. Without thinking, I started talking to him in Spanish. I was naturally out of breath by this point. We talked about what he was peddling, for whom he works, etc. He was thrilled I could speak Spanish. He wanted to know where I lived. While staring at my living room window, I said "near here." He wanted to know if I was married. I said I was not. He confirmed I was single and offered to take me to Mexico. (In Mexico, Meg-worship is fanatical. What can I say? I'm hot stuff.) I purchased four popsicles, tamarind, pineapple, lime, and rice, and went on my way. These pops were about twice the size of Locopops and only $1.50 each. I opened the rice popsicle when I got home. It was divine. It tasted like rice pudding. It was milk based, with actual rice and cinnamon in it. Very tasty. Looks like my boyfriend has a repeat customer. Better hurry before we run off to Oaxaca to elope.