Listening to: Led Zeppelin, III
Actually, "Immigrant's Song" always tugs at me when the weather is like this. Vicious, clamped in winter's clenched teeth and abused like a sock monkey in a Rotty's mouth, a cruel revenge from angry Canadians. Goddamned cold and relentless snow but not lots of accumulation. Not big March flakes so much as tiny darts of icy pain, not enough snow to play in but enough to coat the roads with an idiot-killing glaze.
Colorado drivers really aren't that bad. Most of the lunatic maneuvers I witnessed on my way home were out-of-state plates, the "Why are you people driving so slow?" crowd followed immediately by the "Holy fuck!" crowd, the same ones spinning through intersections and diving into ditches. The soon-to-find-out how much a new grill costs in Colorado crowd. There's gold out here on these here highways, cowboy.
By all means, please - tailgate me, Mr. Florida nitwit. Baby needs new shoes.
Loading the kids into the minivan after work, I laid down the law, no talking to do daddy while he drives tonight. Lilly has a tendency to get chatty on the drive home from Oma's, "What did that bumper sticker say, daddy?,"
"Daddy. what star is that, up there?".
"Daddy, why are you asking that man to drive like a maniac dumbass?"
The topic is, snowy and cold, talk amongst yourselves, daddy needs to drive.
Mad traffic here, too, when we returned home and I checked the computer, coming up on 10,000 hits with a quickness. Thank god for B4B, it's knocked my stats up more than 100%, all I had to do was write. No getting across town, no throwing hand signs at other drivers, no yakky kids. Just post something and... um, no I don't think it's that easy.
Indeed, it's harder than a cross-town drive. As such, # 10,000 gets a big friggin CD.
Anyway, more than the numbers, I was elated by the comments. You people are the best, really. I want to give you all a big sloppy kiss.
Talk amongst yourselves.