Shuffle

Sometimes, it's the smallest, silliest things.

The weather was pleasant this morning, in the high 50s with sun and clouds. And I had my iPod on on the way to work when Elmo's Song followed Annie Lennox. Do you know Elmo's Song? It's sweet and catchy and fun. It's Sesame Street. It just makes you smile. Well, it makes me smile.

That's enough, in and of itself. But then? The coup de grace? A few songs later, what came up but the theme song to Transformers!

As my college roommate (hi!) can tell you, the Transformers theme song is the one that always managed to play (somehow, the randomizer on my music-playing program really, really liked the Transformers) and always managed to play at the most inappropriate times. So it took everything I had not to burst out laughing and/or sing along. (I was on public transportation at the time.)

The book I just finished referenced Optimus Prime toward the end. I wonder if through some kind of music-shuffle-magic the iPod knew and thought, finally, that it was an appropriate time for Transformers.

On foot

I haven't had a car for a couple weeks now, and while it's been frustrating in its own way, there's also some good that's come of it. Namely, by taking public transportation to work, I've had more time to read. I think I've gotten through five or six books so far in January; that's much faster than my normal weekday pace.

It's not the first time I've used public transportation instead of my car, but it's the first time I've done it not by choice -- and the first time for any extended period in Atlanta. Sure, MARTA leaves much to be desired route-wise and otherwise, but I have to admit that I feel a little better about myself for walking to the station and walking to work and maneuvering the lines to still go out on occasion.

Also, taking the train provides me with many more opportunities to get hit on by guys with bottles in paper bags. And those always make for good stories.

Of food trucks and other joys

The sun is shining, the grass is green and Cleveland now has food trucks.

We've had hot dog stands on many downtown corners for quite some time, but this is different. Not only is it something I can eat (street food + vegetarian friendly hadn't previously been the case), but there's a bit of mystery in where the truck will be on what day, and whether it can be found.

Earlier this week, I tracked down the first truck, an Asian-inspired one (though my menu won't convince you that's the case) where I had delicious gazpacho, tater tots, a veggie taco and a sushi push-pop. Yum.

There was bright, beautiful graffiti near where it was parked, and a gentleman with a long gray braid down his back on the trolley I took over. Another word about the braid: it petered out so slowly, and at the end, was simply several strands that must have wanted to stay together.

Black and white and read all over

First, a little bit about me.

I am not a morning person. I always mean to wake up early enough to take the bus to work, where I can leisurely read the paper, but then I do not. Instead, I drive to work.

But I still want to know the morning's news. And since there are many traffic lights on my commute, I read the paper on my way in. Mostly when I'm stopped at said lights, but so as not to lose my place, I drive with the paper in one hand, in my lap, where it sometimes flops over the steering wheel. This is how I arrive most mornings.

I work in a building without a parking lot, and frequently chat with the guy at the block-away lot whom I pay each morning to watch over my car. Mostly, it's just a good morning, but sometimes we wish each other happy weekends or talk about traffic. Or he warns me that I really should get up early enough to take the bus because there's some concert or game and the cost of the parking lot will go up tremendously the next day. I like him very much for giving me these warnings. We also occasionally laugh at the other drivers who slip on the ice when they get out of their cars. But that's just because people falling is funny, as long as they aren't hurt and they aren't you.

But this morning, I was a little nervous. You see, I was going to be on the radio to discuss a story I had written. And while I knew what there was to know about my story, I wanted to be well-informed about the stories the other guests were discussing, too. So while the paper was on my lap as I drove in, I was not reading it so as not to clutter my mind with information that would not be useful for on-the-air.

Of course, then, it's today that parking lot man chooses to tell me: "I love how you're always reading the paper."

I laughed, and told him it was the only time I had a chance. And wished him a good day.

It eased my pre-radio jitters.

Aaaaand we're back

Getting let out of work early on Friday afternoons.

Strange farmers' market finds -- such as the husk cherry, a fruit a friend said tastes like buttered toast. I'm still not sure that I see it.

Tea at the Ritz, followed by a (touring) Broadway show.

Interesting books. Beach. Cooking. Conversation. Company.

Meaningful moments with friends. Random moments with friends. Being butted off of Twister boards by friends.

Knowing that friends care enough to show up, even with little notice.

Good news. Good food.

Tourists trying to tip a trolley driver because he chatted with them about Asheville (where they're from) and gave them some suggestions about what to do and where to go.

Air conditioning. I contemplated driving around this afternoon, just so I could have it. In the end, the book I was reading won out.

Parking tickets

Waiting for the trolley today, I saw the most awesome thing: a meter maid posse.

There were four of them (three women and a man, if I recall) all dressed in their pseudo-cop outfits complete with hats and badges. And they were all standing around one car, one at each corner. Only one of them was writing a ticket, though.

Then they strode down the street, two by two, daring anyone to mess with the meter maids.

You could almost see them snapping as they went.

Kindness of strangers

I was riding the trolley yesterday, when it started to pull away. A woman was chasing it down, trying to catch the driver before she left, when... splat. She slipped on the icy street and fell in the slush.

The driver did notice her, and waited for her to come on board. The woman started to wipe the slush off her coat and purse, but she was pretty wet. Then, someone across the aisle from her pulled a few paper towels from her coat pocket and offered them up.

"I bring them from home," she said. "I have more. You take them."

And I thought that was pretty great.

Twofer

I've been riding the bus to work, when I can. On the way home today, the bill reader was broken. So the ride was free.

And when I checked the mail, there was a hand-addressed envelope -- it was my first piece of real mail at my new home! Hooray!

Tourists

Or poll monitors and get-out-the-vote operatives.

We're in a battleground state! Who knew?

So there was an Obama rally downtown today. Christy and I were going downtown for other reasons -- but we took the rapid, hearing that traffic would be terrible and there would be no parking anywhere. (There wasn't any parking at the rapid station, either. It was packed!)

There, a nice woman from Rochester wanted to know where we had come from to drum up votes. And on the way back, this dude started talking to us... and decided we were his new friends. So when we walked by the rally (Bruce Springsteen was playing!), he hung with us. When we left, we decided to go get a cup of coffee -- and he came along. We invited him to dinner, too, but I think he felt like he was intruding at that point (and it was nice that he didn't come).

But he took our e-mail addresses. And I just think it's cool that he had the guts to start chatting with a couple of gals in a strange city and make them his friends. Or at least his temporary acquaintances.

Pizza on wheels, plus

I was riding the trolley to a meeting today and got off at E 9th and Euclid. There, in front of the trolley, was a bike messenger (+18 points for starters). He was holding a thermal bag for pizzas in one hand and going in circles in front of the trolley to keep from stopping at the traffic light.

A bike messenger! With pizza! And dizzyness! I enjoyed.

Later (on the way back to the office on the trolley), there was a man in a police uniform with big glasses and a Sherlock Holmes pipe. How often do you see one of those?

The answer, of course, is not often enough.