Humbled, I am.

I just had to run out to the convenience store because I needed milk for the recipe I'm cooking for tomorrow morning.  (Ugh! Plan better, Stacy!)

As I was walking into the store, I noticed something not uncommon in my neighborhood:  a homeless gentleman sitting outside, wrapped in a blanket.

I don't give money to folks.  In my walk from my parking spot to my office each day I pass by Atlanta police station boxes that suggest giving money in the boxes there instead of to random folks on the street.  It's in an effort to both cut down on visitors to our city feeling uncomfortable and make sure the funds go to a program instead of an individual (the verdict is still out on that for me).

Anyway.

As I walked past the gentleman in the blanket on the way in, I smiled and said hello but nothing more. But I figured eh? Maybe he might need a Coca-Cola, and why not get that and my little bottle of milk with the $5 in my pocket?  So I did. But when I walked out?  I was disappointed he was gone.  :(  That quickly.  Somebody probably complained or a cop was nearby (as is also, gratefully, in my 'hood as well) and he felt the need to be up and gone.

But what on earth was I going to do with a Coca-Cola now?  (I don't drink soda.)

So I'm driving away, really rather sad I couldn't give it to someone, but eh. It was a buck. Big deal.  But then I had to pause before turning out into traffic.  In doing that, I saw a gentleman cross my path a bit ahead of me.  He was well-kept but had a backpack and sleeping bag on his person and in my neighborhood, I know what that means. He didn't try to stop me or approach me or anything: was just going on about his own business. Perhaps that's why I felt really comfortable, rolled down my window and said loudly:  "Sir? Sir!" calling after him.

He turned around and instantly responded, "Yes, ma'am. Are you in need?"  -- while keeping a safe distance, probably so as not to alarm me.

"Oh no," I responded.  "I just have this Coca-Cola here I don't want.  I bought it for a gentleman who left before I could give it to him.  Would you like it?"  And handed it out my window.

"Thank you, ma'am," he responded, turning around to come back closer to me, but still keeping a crazy ridiculous distance even as I was handing something as close to our proximity as just outside a car window.  I wished him a Merry Christmas and he wished me one back.  And then I came home and now my casserole + the needed milk is in the oven.  In a warm, lovely home with beautiful smells coming from my kitchen and a big soft bed waiting for me when I'm ready to retire.

"Bless you, ma'am," he said to me just before I drove off.

And I realized fully I already am.

Road Trip Mind Dump :-)

Things I learned from my road trip this week:

1.) Cincinnati is a ridiculously gorgeous city.  I have never been through there before, but this trip took me through there and, honestly, far too quickly! I was disappointed I couldn't stop and explore. It's beautiful, compact, and I want to go back.

2.) Kentucky is one of the most beautiful states I’ve ever been in.  And I’ve been to 38 of ‘em so far. From the rolling hills to the white-picket-fenced horse farms to the sunrises and sunsets there? Beautiful.  I’ve been through before, but not on this route. Stunning.

3.) Lexington, Kentucky was not as blue as I had expected it to be.

4.) Knoxville, Tennessee was totally as orange as I thought it would be.

5.) Tennessee highway drivers are the most obnoxious drivers ever*. 

*Now, let me clarify this for my Tennessee friends: I was on the Interstate, so most of the folks around me were not actually *from* Tennessee.  (I checked license plates.)  For some reason, drivers going through this state do stupid-ass shit like cut you off, or brake for no reason or decide to drive up your ass when you’re already doing 80 in a 65 mph zone.  Ugh. I feel for you natives who have to put up with folks just driving through.  It was obnoxious.

4.) Columbus, Ohio people are ridiculously friendly!  I have never had so many folks open and hold doors for me, step aside on the sidewalk to let me by or even apologize when I was in *their* way instead of vice versa. Dang. If it didn’t get so cold there in winter, I’d seriously consider moving there.

5.) Every road trip I take, at some point I will end up in stand-still traffic on the Interstate in the most random, out-of-the-way places.  Please, people. Can we please stop bumping into each other?

6.) Driving through the mountains of Tennessee freaks me out, especially when it’s raining (like it was on my way up). Driving through the mountains of Tennessee freaks me out a little bit less when it’s sunny and blue skies (like on my way down), but still had me gripping the wheel in fear.  Too many curves and mountains and crap. Ugh!  I have no idea how you folks out west do this with mountains x2 the size of these every day.

7.) Black coffee + Pringles + Twizzlers are all you need for energy to get you through a 9 hour road trip. Your body might hate you the next day, but at least you’ll have a body the next day.

8.) There’s nothing like going away.  But there’s also nothing like coming home. 

So You Think You'd Like to Tour a Brewery

So you think you'd like to tour a brewery now and again.  Good on you! You're my kind of people already. Going to your local brewery not only helps you develop a love for various varieties of beers, but supports local and often small businesses in the community you're visiting.  That makes you awesome on two levels already.

And as if you couldn't be any more awesome, I have a few suggestions more if you're feeling like you want to head out with your friends to tour another. As both a connoisseur of beer and patron to various breweries and a suds-slinger myself now and again, here I offer you a few thoughts to consider when you decide to head on out to your next one.

1.)  Check out the brewery's webpage before you go.

Whether it's awesomely complex or very simply built, the website will tell you the basics you need to know, like their tasting hours, cost, policies and what you can expect when you visit.  From what the brewery specializes in (IPAs? Sours? High-gravity?) to what they allow (dog friendly? smoking section? ample parking vs. valet, etc.), it's always helpful to know ahead of time what to expect.  They do that because they want you to have the best time you can there.  Plan your trip like you would any other outing with friends.

2.) Truly sample.

Remember that when you're going to a tasting room, you're doing just that: going to a *tasting room*.  The point of doing brewery tours is not to get sloshed on beers (go to your local pub for that), but instead to taste different offerings that brewery has to offer.  Step out of your comfort zone and try something you haven't before.  Not into dark beers?  Try one anyway. Why not?  If you don't like it, at least you didn't pay $6 for an entire glass you don't like at the pub and have to pass it over to your friend to finish instead.

And who knows?  You might just discover, after a few sips, that you like a variety you may have not liked prior to your visit.  That's what tasting rooms are all about.

You know those bars where you can get flights of sample various beers at once as smaller versions?  (Love those places!)  Think of the brewery you're visiting as just like that, only all of the beers there are created from the same brewery.  If you're a true brew connoisseur, it's fascinating in itself to see and smell and taste a range that a singular brewery might have the talent to create.

3.) Ask questions.

Breweries have killer staff who are very good at educating their volunteers about the beers you'll be tasting. If the place is new to you and you don't know where to start in sampling? Ask! Volunteers will point you in the right direction. They *want* you to ask those things!  If you want to know the story behind the company, the logo you see, how it all got started? Ask that too!  Folks in these places would love to tell you what they know....and if they can't answer, they'll point you down to #5 below.  But first...

4.) But don't ask the impossible questions.

And there's only two.  Don't ask for a "heavy pour" or complain that you're only getting the amount you are.  Trust me: workers at breweries are not trying to cheat you. There are just laws in place that have to be followed. Remember #3 and that you're there for sampling and exploring and expanding your brew palate and not to get drunk. When you go to a brewery's tasting room, expect tastes -- much as you would in a winery, yes?

The second? Please don't ask your bartender if you can "taste it first in case I don't like it" before they pour your choice of beer.  The whole point of being in a tasting room is to have a taste, and often the first sip will not be either what you expected or what you're used to drinking.  Step back with your glass and sip on it a few times to challenge yourself that it might not be your taste of choice at first, but after a few sips, you might warm up to it.  If not? You don't order it ever again.  But if so? You just opened up a new variety of brew you never considered before.

5.) Take the tour!

If you're going to a tasting room that offers a brewery tour, take it! These folks are masters at what they do and they are happy to tell you about how the magic in your glass came to be.  For those who like to home-brew, this is especially lovely.  I've toured many breweries - in Atlanta, Milwaukee, Phoenix, Chicago, Louisville (I can go on and on) - and the number one consistency in them all is that brew masters are incredible about explaining their trade on their brewery tours.  And it's because they love what they do and want to share it with you.

Trust me: there are no stupid questions here. And great tour guides will never make you feel that way either. They know they're the experts (it is their trade after all) and the fact that you want to learn how their establishment works and ask questions? It's wonderful.  And appreciated.

6.) Tell your friends! 

In our world that's now social media, share your experience.  Post about how you didn't think you'd ever like an IPA (too hoppy, right?) but you found one you actually enjoy!  Instagram pictures of you and your group having a nice time, sampling and discussing your thoughts on the beers you had.  Write Yelp reviews -- whether good or bad -- about your time there.  Trust me again when I say that breweries will read those reviews, even the negative ones (especially the negative ones!) and use your opinions to help make the experience better for others.

So yeah. You think you'd like to tour a brewery?  If you haven't before, you now do, right?  Wherever you live, go Google breweries in your local area and go on out and try something new, right?  Do it. Support your local breweries, have fun and get some inside knowledge of a killer craft trade at the same time even.

And how awesome is that?

The Code.

At the laundromat a couple weeks ago I ran into another patron I had never met before and we got to talking.  Her name was Sabrina, a smart, sassy fun lady who was super friendly while at the same time unobtrusive.  The exact reason going to a laundromat can be fun.*

(*Yeah, I get it.  It's easier -- oh, so much more easier! -- to do it at home.  And, trust me, I wish I had that back again. But, just as with other sacrifices I made by moving into the city with an amazingly inexpensive apartment, I had to get rid of my washer and dryer so it's the laundromat for me!

In all honesty, if I ever get annoyed with that, or hearing folks and traffic at 3am or any number of other things that come with Big City Living, I always just imagine I live in the Atlanta of the North: New York City.  A city I totally adore, by the way, and if I could afford to live, probably would.  I sometimes imagine the place I have here and what I'd pay for it there for the same amount.   Someday I would love to tell my friends who do live there what I'm getting here just to hear them laugh at me and mail me the shoebox or whatever I could get there for the same (COD of course). But that's another quest for another day.  Today, I just thought that: hey! If I did live in that shoebox (who am I kidding? HALF a shoebox) I could get for what I get here, I'd be doing my laundry at a laundromat there anyway.  But I digress.)

So we're back at my Atlanta neighborhood laundromat and Sabrina and I are discussing what she calls The Code.

This was a day I went to do laundry after work because I worked on deadline through my lunch hour instead of doing it then instead (there's an incredibly cheap one near work where I can get it all done on my lunch hour and sometimes do instead if I'm able).  When I can't this is a good place to go.  In the heart of Midtown, great proprietors, great establishment.  Looks clean, smells clean, free wi-fi, machines work, stand-up video games to play (Pac-Man, yo!), bar right next door if I feel like a pint, etc.etc.  And one where I actually talk to folks instead of doing work on my phone quietly during my lunch hour chore.

Apparently I was there that day for this conversation.  Sabrina's inside on The Code.

I had never thought about it before, but I do now and I'm curious what all y'all think as well.

She said she had starting using this establishment when she lived around the corner and, like me, gave away her clothes cleaning and drying mechanisms when her new place hadn't hook-ups for them.  She now lives downtown instead -- a whole two mile easy walk away -- but continues to come to this place because of The Code.

The Code is not the cleanliness or the amenities: The Code is the patrons who don't steal your shit.

That sort of took me aback at first:  I've actually left my stuff in cycles to run an errand and come back to it; never really thought that people would go in and take my things.  But she says it happens in some neighborhoods.  That folks won't care if they fit or not or even that thievery is wrong. She said the first time it happened in her new neighborhood is why she decided to drive a couple miles to come back to this place every time again instead.

The Code is not about whether people steal or not though:  it's more that somehow, by instinct, you know when you walk into a place whether or not people there know The Code or not.  There's a feel about the place.  Without ever talking to other patrons there, there's a feel about the place that you and your belongings are safe.

For example: do any of you ever go take your laptop to a coffee shop to work?  If you're there for any length of time (and drinking coffee), you'll most likely have to get up to use the restroom, yes?  And at those places, have you ever had a person ask you if you would mind keeping an eye on their things or ask them to do the same?  To perfect strangers!  Or have you ever witnessed anyone else just get up and do that without even asking anyone else, just somehow trusting it would be there when they got back?

Of course you have! Who brings their laptop to the potty? We don't because The Code is there.  There's a something there -- a sort of safe zone governed by The Code -- where no one else would even touch your things, let alone steal them. 

How do we automatically know which places are in The Code and which aren't?  I'm not sure, but somehow we do. 

Let's get away from the coffee shops and hang out at the airport  for a minute, shall we?  You're traveling alone with a roll-about carry-on bag and, let's face it: it's a pain in the ass to have to roll that thing back down the concourse to the restroom or the Cinnabon. Have you ever asked a total stranger to keep an eye on it for you or have one ask you to of theirs?   (I will admit here I always take mine with me because I'm a safety girl like that; but I have had others ask me to watch theirs and have done so with no problem.) The total stranger probably wasn't someone just sitting next to you -- it was someone you chatted with about your destination or your hometown or your love of the same sports team because you had a similar t-shirt on -- but, nonetheless, a total stranger!  How do we know, instinctively, that we're in The Code's zone when we do this? They could just be total players afterall.

I'm willing to say none of you reading this is innocent or naive about the world (and, heh. Here I am assuming I have readers even *grin*).  We know the risks in our world.  We're smart people. We work hard for our money and don't want our stuff stolen.  But, still, we would do some of these things in *specific* communities or establishments or locations in a way that innocent, naive or trusting others would all the time, knowing we wouldn't be taken advantage of when they would.

How do we know this?

Because The Code. We somehow recognize The Code.

It exists, no?

I don't get it. I really don't.

I don't think I'm naive or innocent or sheltered. I read/listen/hear news through many outlets every day, be it on my TV, my radio, my phone, my laptops, my desktop, satellite radio broadcasts, blog subscriptions, podcasts, etc., etc.... I can go on and on about all the avenues I get my news, but that's only a point here to illustrate that I'm not an uniformed human being. I read/listen/hear things all the time from everywhere.

On an intellectual level, I know what's going on in my world.

But on a humanity level, I don't get it.

I really don't.

And in the aftermath of the tragedy that's happened in Kenya this week, this post is going to be about religion. MY religion.

Reports are coming out that the monsters who attacked that university separated people by faith and, if they were Christian, killed them.  For no other reason but their faith.  Those people knew nothing else of those students' lives: it didn't matter to them that they were good people. People who help out their community, people who were supporting their families, people who would have made a difference in our world.  To those horrid folks who did this, nothing else mattered about them but what their faith was and they assumed they should die for that and that alone.

I was born to two Catholic parents. I went to Catholic school and even taught Catholicism after my Confirmation for a while.  I stopped being Catholic, but never stopped being a Christian.  And most of you reading this probably are not surprised by this.  I wear it on my sleeve that I am.

But in the wake of international events lately, I wonder if I would do that as easily if I weren't in a country and a community where I actually CAN.  I can sit down with fellow Christians, but also with other friends of other faiths.  Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, Agnostic, Atheist....It would never ever occur to me that I had to eliminate those friends from not only my life but the face of the earth just because of what faith they believe  I can wear a cross necklace, take a PTO at work for a Christian holiday, say "Have a Great Easter Weekend!" without consequences. Gosh, I'm lucky to live here.







But back to Kenya. Or Littleton, Colorado. Or anywhere else where someone put a person on the line by asking their faith with a gun to their head and pretty much stating it would be a choice between life and death.

As much as I am out about my faith?  Would I lie in order to still be alive today?

Yes. I probably would.



Yes, I definitely would.

I would tell that person who had a gun to my head anything he wanted to hear. Just to live.

I don't want to be a martyr.

But even if I did that? I don't think for one second that it would make me be a bad Christian or a traitor to my faith.  I don't think my God would blame me for that -- for wanting to live? That's the biggest thing that's been bouncing around my brain in this past week after hearing about the horrific tragedy that happened there. Would it be OK in God's eyes to lie and deny him in that life-and-death moment just so I could go on living? Would he be OK with that, knowing that what I said was not actually in my heart?

I think He would. (He forgave Peter for denying him three times and still made him the first Pope; why wouldn't he let me once if he knew my heart?)

But the whole point about this rambling post is still what I said earlier.

I don't get how human beings do this to each other.  Care about what other people are doing! Care about folks who help each other, no matter their faith, creed, doctrine or orientation.  Care about  family and then let everyone else just do the same, even if it's different than yours. No matter their faith, beliefs or gods.  Right?

I, as an educated woman, truly don't understand why this concept is so difficult.

How to Share the Road with Semi Trucks: a Kindness Guide

I remember a time once when I was on a long drive with my family for a trip.  Dad was driving, I was in the passenger seat and the rest of the family were in various positions in the rest of the stylin' 80s passenger van my parents owned.  You know, the ones that are carpeted, with four seats and a "couch" in the back, complete with a sink and water pump (that never worked) and a built in cooler?  Yeah, one of those.

As we were passing a semi-truck, Dad imposed some wisdom on me.  He told me, "now, if you're ever driving and you start to pass a truck, you don't have to accelerate to get past him.  If you're already passing him, your current speed will continue to make that happen."  I'm pretty sure he was trying to teach me something about velocity and science or something. He certainly never taught me to actually drive (a story for another day).  Seemed pretty logical to me, but I never really gave it much thought after that.  Except for the weird fact that I always remembered him sharing that tidbit of advice. :)  But I have already digressed.

The main subject of this post is How to Share the Road and Drive with Others.  Specifically: semi-trucks.

As soon as I got my first car, I discovered the love of the road trip.  This wasn't until much later than most of you, I'd reckon.  I was 23 or 24, graduated from college with another year removed from working on a bus line where I didn't need one.  Sure, I drove before then, but not having a car of my own, didn't have the luxury of just picking up, filling up and taking myself where my whims could take me.  That changed almost immediately after I got Cassidy (yep, I name my cars).  At first, it wasn't far: just within state to visit old college friends or down to Chicago to catch the Cubs or whatnot. Later, as I met friends throughout the country and then moved 1000 miles from home, it became much greater distances.  But each time, it involved interstates or at the very least 4-lane state highways: the places you typically find semi-trucks utilizing the same roads as you.

I don't know if they do it in Driver's Ed today, but back in my day, we never got instructions on the differences between passenger vehicles on the interstates and commercial big-rig ones.  I'm pretty sure it's still not well taught, as I sometimes see on long trips those signs along the highway that indicate if you're passing a truck like that to leave more room, assuming that's the education instead. Do you know which ones I mean? Love those signs! I have faith they educate some.   In any case, it was only the road trips I took myself that, over time, helped me to develop the driving skills to work with semis.

Imagine you're on a long stretch of a four-lane interstate.  Yeah, you're probably in Texas and I'm sorry for that, but imagine it anyway.  You're cruising along in the left lane, a semi-truck is 100 yards ahead of you or so in the right and you're fixin' to overcome him in a few but also notice you're also approaching and exit/on ramp?  The right thing to do is to survey that on-ramp and slow the heck down and alert that semi, via your lights, that he can come in front of you.  If someone's coming on, that truck is probably going to have to make way for the incomer and the best way for him to do it would be to move over into your lane as opposed to braking. (More on that in a bit.)  Notice the interloper, flash your lights quickly so the truck sees you see the circumstance too and then slow the heck down so he can move in front of you for the duration of the entire exchange.  Trust me, he'll move back again and you can pick up your speed after.  He'll often thank you with a flash of his own lights (oh! I so love when they do that! but that's for later too).

Because although YOU, in your passenger vehicle, could slam on your brakes and stop in a fairly safe distance most of the time, *semi-trucks cannot.*  Again, going to throw some velocity and science out here: the weight and momentum behind them will carry them much further than you probably ever thought about if they had to do that. And they have no way of judging how fast that person will actually merge, so it's best for them just to get out of the lane and keep it free in the first place.  Right?   Logical when you think about it.  The thing is, I don't think most folks think about it and I think it's because it's not taught.   

The other thing not taught and which leads me to this blog posting today was an incident that happened on my way home from work tonight.  Trucks like these make *wide right turns.*   I'm sure most of you drivers out there have seen those kind of messages on the backs of city buses and semis on the interstates, but I'm not sure if it really registers sometimes, considering the amount of accidents I see because of this exact thing. Your turn radius on your car?  Probably pretty good, right?  Now image your car is 4x as long as it really is.  Think it would be the same?   (A hint: if you do? You really shouldn't be driving.)

So today I'm on my way home from work and I'm going to reference Atlanta city streets here but I'm sure you can imagine streets the same in your own city:  I'm on Piedmont Road, heading into the city.  It's a four-lane city road with no divider and, being the heart of the city, the lanes aren't very wide to begin with.  In this case, it crossed my mind that the semi driver might actually have been lost and GPS-ing it because no semis should be on this street to begin with.  That being said, I knew he was headed for a very sharp right hand turn in about a mile where both lanes turn (it becomes a one-way street there) and there's no other option but to turn right.  (14th street at the park, for those of you playing locally)

Got that?  You're heading down a street two lanes in one direction where both y'all are turning right in about a half a mile. A tight, sharp right.

So I see the truck. He's in front of me afterall and I usually drive with my eyes open.  He's in the left lane of this, which is why I believe he must've had GPS, knowing there's no way in hades he could make a mandatory right turn from the right.  I usually like being in that lane myself as my next turn on the connecting street is a left a few blocks up, so I was behind him, being patient and keeping a safe distance.  But the closer and closer we got to that dreaded turn, cars kept flying by me in the right and since that turn is actually at a traffic light, I knew in my heart that that truck was going to get stuck. Cars would line up along side him at a red and there would be absolutely nowhere he could go as he could only watch car upon car zip past easily in the right turn while he was stuck in the left, not being able to do a darn thing about it.   Because he NEEDED that lane too in order to turn his truck.  Shoot, as it would actually happen, he actually needed not only that lane but the curb and sidewalk next to that lane to do it.  But instead of noticing the truck and surveying the situation and thinking about how to help, these drivers noticed the truck and moved around it to benefit their own needs instead...because, let's face it. Who wants to be stuck behind a semi?  Especially on a local road.

But it all kind of pissed me off.  Like, all I could think was that this poor truck driver probably accidentally got himself in this situation that he certainly would not be able to get himself out of and I'm pretty sure he had places to go and people to see just like the rest of us.  So, still enough far behind him for him to maneuver? I switched to the right lane and STOPPED.  Just stopped.  Let all the right handers in front of me go through the green light but stopped myself yards before it, knowing he'd need my lane (er, and the curb. and the sidewalk).  Flashed my lights at him to let him know that "yep, I ain't moving here even though it's green-- it's all you buddy" and when he started his turn, I knew he understood my message.

However -- right at that time, when I couldn't block the whole right lane anymore, a car pulled up behind him, sharply maneuvered in front of me (almost hitting me) into the right lane in order to beat the light still green.  The passenger of that car even had the gall to look at me and mouth something nasty because she didn't understand why I was stopping 30 yards from an intersection when the light was green.  I gestured calmly palm-up at the semi situation in explanation and I can only hope that after the fact it might have all come together like puzzle pieces for her and she realized my motive.  But, sadly, I doubt it.

Fortunately, no more cars were coming up behind us and I light-signaled Mr. Semi that I was still on board with our original plan.  I stayed close enough to his back end to let him make the turn but not let any other cars do the same bone-ass move.  And he made the turn, using his lane and mine...and the curb and the sidewalk. :)

At this point, I had to get back over into the lane he was originally in to make my next turn, so he ended up a few vehicles ahead of me to the right where I was never able to pull up along side him to get his wave and smile of thank you.  Because I'm sure it would have come.  Especially because, even cars behind him, I saw him flash the "thank you" lights with his brake lights.  It's crazy how it warms my heart when they do that kind of thing.

The point in all of this?  I guess it's really nothing more than to remember that you *share the road* with others.  Remember that others don't always have the same capabilities that you do in your vehicle. On the opposite end of this situation, I can also go on about being very cognizant of motorcycles and bicyclists too and what to do there, but that, too, is a story for another day.

None of us own the roads out there. And all of us are in this thing called life together.  Be aware of others. "Help" when you can. Choose safety and kindness over your own needs to be somewhere and get somewhere.

I may be naive in this, but I like to think that this semi driver actually got to where he needed to go safely and that with all the drivers he experienced -- whether jerks or just uneducated -- that he knows that at least one person understood him today and knows how to drive courteously  in Atlanta.  I will never, ever meet him. This I know.  But I smile just a little bit thinking that this incident might be something that makes him smile too perhaps.

Be kind, people. Be alert. Help others when you can. Share the road.