Bus Rides to Work

I ride the bus from home to the bus station, and then from the bus station down the 16th Street Mall downtown to my work. 2 different busses, 2 very different rides.

The first bus I take is approximately 25 minutes long. I start north of the City, and everyone I ride with are commuters like me. Dressed in the work attire of drab grays, blacks, browns, whites and blue, we load in about 5:30, and sit quietly. Really it's too early for intelligent conversation, but I'm not sure we'd talk to each other either way. We are a somber, quiet group. Reading our books, listening to our headphones, or perhaps vacantly staring out the window. I often feel a bit of poetic martyrdom sitting there, like we're all shuffling towards some long-decided fate, all dressed alike, all going to similar jobs. . . All pretty miserable about it.

Some mornings.

Other mornings on that bus I feel like I'm part of something great. That I've been assimilated into some sort of Corporate Borg unit, and I'm doing my part to really make some sort of difference, if not in the world, then at least in my small sphere of influence as I bring home a happy paycheck every other Friday.

Regardless of how I'm feeling that particular morning (martyr or Borg) I disembark on the Northern part of downtown, and hop on a shuttle to ride 10 minutes down the street. On this bus, a few of the commuters have joined me, and it's now approaching 6:00. The homeless people are waking up and heading towards various (and I admit, unknown) destinations, the janitors are out cleaning the streets from last nights activities and hop on and off at different stops. The cleaning ladies for the nearby hotels are just starting their morning shifts, and hop on the bus in groups. All laughing and talking excitedly, arms around each other with smiling faces; I find that I can't help but smile with them, even though I can't understand a word they're saying.

Some mornings there's a guy who's a bit mad that hops on the shuttle with me. He always ducks down behind the windows after the door shuts, muttering to himself, keeping a watchful eye out for some unseen enemy. When he's not completely paranoid (which is rare), he'll start poking fun of the other passengers, usually women. First, he begins with the compliment "that skirt looks very nice". . .it's difficult to know what kind of response to give him, for I've seen the range of "thanks" to stony silence, and they all produce the same result. He angrily mutters to himself, then takes back the compliment, then waits for the poor female to disembark, and which point he starts to yell at them "you better hurry!!!" perhaps for the lack of something more intimidating coming to his mind.

Either way he's about 5 feet tall, not too much of a threat, and treated with general good humor.

There are a ton more characters to list for the shuttle; the Ladies Man who loves nothing more than a good conversation first thing in the morning (a different lady EVERY morning. Don't pretend to know him, he forgets you pretty quick); the Security Guard who suspiciously eyes everyone on the bus, probably taking his duty a bit too seriously; the Jogger who must not jog very much because he's always riding the bus; the Homeless Businessman - a character who intrigues me, he is always dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt with loafers. . .you'd never guess he was homeless except for the grocery cart with all his baggage in it (and nice, name-brand baggage too, if a bit worn) .

I could go on and on. The shorter shuttle ride is always a TON more interesting than the long commuter ride, and that's when I think to myself how boring the world would be if everyone chose the same life-path.

Who are you?

Lately I have been thinking about what defines me.

So many people define themselves by their job, their lifestyle, their status. . .And I'm no longer a student, a vegetarian, an apartment-dweller, a tree hugger, a part-time employee, a volunteer. . .These are all things which defined me strongly for the past few years, and within a matter of months were all stripped away. Now, life has taken a complete turn.

I'm a full-time software QA engineer, I'm a homeowner, I'm still a wife, I'm still a tree-hugger but can no longer really term myself as an environmentalist because I work in the petroleum industry, and I'm really, really busy. . . .but. . .who am I? What part of me remains the same regardless of how my situation changes?

For that matter who are you?

What part of your life/personality defines you so strongly that when people talk about you they say, 'Oh, you know Yournamehere, she's/he's a ______'.

Think about it and fill in the blank when you leave a comment. I'll start:

'I'm a free spirit who brings beauty and life to those around me. '

Very Fun

Well, I was looking over some other blog spots, and found a link to this video.

Being a HUGE Star Trek TNG fan, I thought that I would post this clever video for the watching pleasure of my blog readers (all 4 of you!)

You can see it
here.

The Great Moth Slayer

With our new house, our sassy little cat, Cider, has found a whole new occupation. Zesty and full of life, I now can say for certain that apartment living didn't suit her one bit, but our house does seem to present her with many opportunities to keep boredom at bay.

Here in the early summers of Colorado, Miller Moths come out in DROVES to eat things, beat themselves senselessly against lights, and swarm through your house leaving strange red droppings in their wake. In our apartment on the 3rd floor, they weren't an issue. Here around our house, they congregate in alarming numbers. At first my husband and I were concerned about them....we had about 5 good sized moths flying through the house, smacking against our head when they weren't flailing madly against the ceiling.

And then Cider saw them.

All of the sudden, gravity seemed to release it's hold on my small cat. She lept, she twisted, she was incredibly clumsy for the first few nights, and not altogether successful. But as the weeks have passed she has turned into a ruthless killer. No moths can dwell in our house for more than a few minutes before she spots them, and her focus is rather impressive. Lamps, couches, artwork and the occasional wall can't hinder Cider as she pursues her prey. She's become so effective that I'll take her out to the front porch light with me, and in less than a minute she'll have one firmly grasped in her paws after yet another astonishing leap.

So in the end, as of this writing the moth season hasn't been that bad for us; a great source of happiness for Cider, and fabulous entertainment for us. I think we'll all be sad when it's over.

Except for maybe, the moths themselves.

A New House

Well, perhaps I can start with the blogging again. There's certainly plenty to write about. A new job, a new home, a new life in general and though the transition has been jarring (everything happening within a 2 week period - even closing on the house!) It's amazing to be here where we are.

The new house is on .25 acres, and so far my favorite thing has been my backyard. It's a huge field, with really big power lines spanning the space. Now, the power lines may not be the most beautiful things to look at, but they are protecting the view as the land is now a dedicated utility easement. In the end I would prefer to look at them than another gaudy subdivision (like the one I live in now!)

I've found it to be an unexpected experience to love the Eastern CO plains as much as I do. More of a mountain girl, I've found the wind rushing through the firs and aspens and a surging mountain stream sounds that I associate with comfort and peace. However camping trips are few and far between, and I often have felt disconnected with nature in general working in a concrete jungle downtown. The house has surprised me by bringing that same peace back into my life. The sounds of grass blowing in the wind, meadowlarks trilling from sun up to sun down, the hissing of blowing sand against my fence... I sit out on my back deck for hours and just soak it all in. Where I used to commune with nature on short walks and infrequent camping trips before, I can now come home every evening and tap into that same energy.

Now, my commute to work is about 45 minutes long. . .I arrive at 5:45 in the morning and leave around 2:30 to miss the bulk of traffic; and in the end, I wouldn't change a thing. It's peaceful, it's quiet, and it's magic in a too-sensible concrete world.

Mount F***ing Herman

I was breathing hard.

We'd been scaling the boulder-field for what seemed like hours, slipping and grappling our way to the top. Already we'd hiked around 2 miles at the base of the mountain, and now, even though this hike was only three-quarters what we did down there, I felt like dying. My hip hurt, I was sweaty, and the lack of oxygen was screwing with my brain, making my say intelligent things like; "What?! 1/10th of a mile?!! It was 3/10ths of a mile 10 minutes ago!!!! I thought we were supposed to be getting closer to this thing!

Yes indeed, my reputation as a geographer was getting shakier every minute I spent gasping at the dry alpine air. And for what?! What would make me do such a stunt on an other-wise beautiful Sunday?

For a geocache. For those of you who are out of the loop a geocache is like a treasure-hunt, with a GPS. You plug in the coordinates of the cache, (usually a small ammo-box) and go find it. Miles turn to feet, and soon you must get out of your car to find the elusive, often buried, sometimes stashed amongst rocks, cache. You sign the log book, take out a small trinket such as an eraser, magnet, or PEZ dispenser and replace the trinket with one of your own. (for more info www.geocaching.com)

That's what I, and six other people were after that day. Already we had 3 caches under our belts and we would pursue 6 others before the day was done, but this was by far the toughest.

We made it to the top, where a cold wind greeted us. This was Mount Herman, it was the nearest mountain to the town below, and overlooked the whole valley floor. Although no easy feat to hike to the top, it was also an accessible mountain by car, you could drive the dirt road easily in a car, though the hike itself left much to be desired in the 'easy' category. The cache itself was a small green bucket full of all kinds of treasure. We signed the logbook, left a cell-phone charm and took a toy jeep; and then turned around and headed back down. There was a storm rolling in and we got what we came for.

Later on, after dinner and on our 8th cache of the day, my husband wanted us to traverse a field at a brisk run to beat the other group to find the cache. His friend and I gaped at him, weary and incredulous that he would even ask us to think about anything other than a slow meandering walk at this time of day (and I may add, a margarita down).

Greg was serious.

So were we.

Finally his friend staggered over on shaky legs and dramatically pointed his finger in his face. "You listen to me," he rasped. "I just climbed up Mount F***ING Herman today," now he stabbed his finger towards the tall mass of rock looming on the mountain range, "and there will be NO RUNNING!"

I couldn't have said it better myself. A toast to Mount F***ing Herman and a damn fine day.

Lack of things to do

So now that the school semester is over and I'm officially graduated, I've found something interesting going on; I'm going nuts for the lack of activities. Having had a packed schedule now for 5 years or more, I find that to have time to do all sorts of things like scrapbook, and go hiking, and take fitness classes, etc. . . I now have no desire to do any of them. I was a much more efficient person when I was busy than I am now! I think my poor husband is hoping I'll find a career soon, for he is now my 'activities coordinator', and subjected to my crazy ideas that keep me entertained.

Luckily my reading hasn't suffered, I am mowing through books like crazy, but my blogging hasn't quite taken off like I expected. Perhaps I'll make this my own 'homework' assignment. To keep up with blogging and continueing to chronicle my life. Lacking in activities though it is. :)