Nerves

I am leaving for Japan in only a matter of weeks… and I am slightly terrified.

I trust that it will be a perfect trip, however, that doesn’t mean that everything is automatically sorted for me for the trip.

I still am figuring out where to stay and when.

My Japanese needs a serious boost in preparation.

I need to figure out price options for when my brother is there with me, and then find and book that place, whatever it will be.

I need to reach out to everyone else I want to be sure to see.

I need to figure out if I can manage dance shoes in my packing.

I need to figure out what to bring.

I need to pack.

I need to relax just a bit, and still get my stuff handled.

Today, I started a bit of Japanese review, by watching the next episode of this silly Japanese Netflix Original I used to watch when I lived in Japan, “Good Morning Call”.

And it felt good.

It actually excited me about my upcoming voyage, as opposed to leaving me stressed about it all.

I looked up this week Airbnb options, and now have a bit of an idea as to what I might end up doing for all three parts of my Japan time.

I have reached out in the past week and a half to all but one of my super important visit people (the one had already agreed about my visiting a month or two ago).

My knees are continuing to heal, and I am gaining confidence that they will be okay by the time I am in Japan.

Hopefully, they will be healed and at full, comfortable function well before then.

Also, I am exhausted…. and my teeth hurt… my lower teeth, especially…

I had to change my aligners today, so my teeth are all sore and in pain… however, this is the first day of my final month with these aligners all the time(!!!).

Yay!!

Anyway, gotta sleep… 4-ish start in the morning… :/

Love the World.

Peace

Hannah

Post-a-day 2019

Prayers of Gratitude

I have been thinking lately more and more about prayers of gratitude.

In my daily e-mails, one mentioned a short while back how we are always quick to flood the universe with our prayers in times of need – Oh, please help me with this – but that we often miss out on the opportunity to express prayers of gratitude – Thank you for the flowers, the air, the people around me…, for my life, my health, my home, my hearing…, for that act of kindness shown to me, for my ability to show love just now, for my ability to accept love from myself And others

And so, I have been somewhat focusing on prayers of gratitude lately.

Tonight, as I drive myself the remainder of my journey home, I was delighted and relieved that my prayers were clear and of gratitude:

Thank you for showing me safely but clearly to trust myself.

Thank you for putting someone behind me who cares so much and is helping to take care of me.

Thank you for keeping me safe.

Thank you for putting someone behind me who stopped and was paying attention.

Thank you for helping me do what needed to be done.

Thank you for keeping us both – the bike and me – safe, despite our scratches.

Thank you that we received only scratches.

Thank you for the love that is following me right now.

Thank you for letting this terrifying event be in such safe, love-filled circumstances.

Thank you for keeping me alive and well, both for my sake, and for hers.

And for those in my life.

Thank you for my life.

There likely were others in there, too, but that was the main flow of my thoughts (along with the occasional, Man that was ….::hefty-shaky exhale…).

I am grateful for the angel who was driving behind me, and who, though she repeatedly expressed that she didn’t know what to do to help, did exactly what was needed to help – and, aside from all of the conscious efforts to help, her attentiveness quite definitely assured my safety.

Had she not been the one behind me, someone paying attention, I might not be here right now… it was a simple and small accident, but her attentiveness kept it so.

Thank you, God.

And thank you, R.

P.S. All my gear took perfect care of me – I rolled probably three times, without ever touching anything with my head, and lots of parts of me hurt right now, but my skin looks impeccable, because my clothes did exactly what they were worn to do… (minus one tiny spot that, through the jeans, still broke the skin and bled a little bit, but it is a tiny spot that looks more like I tripped and scraped my knee than that I fell around 30-35mph and went rolling across the road)…

P.P.S. Icing has been helping with pain and swelling, and the hot shower just now helped immensely with the pain everywhere.

P.P.P.S. And no, I was not on my phone – not at all… I am just glad that the girl behind me was not on her phone.

Post-a-day 2019

Zoom, zoom

Today, with great excitement and delight, my mom and I had some fun together on the Vespa.

It was my first time having a passenger on it, and I was cautiously excited.

Thinking back, I used to ride the dirt bikes with a friend on the back, and that always seemed to be fine – I have no recollection of even thinking about how it might be different or difficult when compared to rising solo…, so, I guess, it really wasn’t any big deal back then.

We also weighed maybe a hundred pounds at the time…

Although, my mom and I both weigh not much over a hundred pounds, so there’s not too drastic a difference, however, it could have been a 40-pound difference then to now… and 40 pounds is a lot of added weight, when I am used to carrying and managing only myself and my own body weight for something.

Anyway, it went well, and I figured out along the way what I needed from her, which eased most of my concerns regarding having a passenger with me on the back.

We went to a lovely park, and walked out over the water together, being delighted idiots together, grateful for our blessed friendship with one another, as well as our opportunity to be in such a nice place and to be there together.

Awesome view of said water ^

We had many little stops we made, and we crossed loads of people who heartily shared their approval of and appreciation for our means of transportation.

And I think my mom was surprised at how much she enjoyed it all.

She, at one point, was sharing with me about her eight-year-old self’s first ride on the back of a bike – apparently she left marks on Uncle J——‘s skin from her having held on so tightly. πŸ˜›

We did not have such an issue today, but she did joke about and then genuinely compliment my awesome state of abdominal health (aka I’ve kind of got some impressive abs, which can be felt, even though they aren’t visible).

It was a really lovely bonding time for the both of us, for a silly set of reasons, but we just really loved being able to finish off our day full-o-whatever-nonsense-we-for-some-reason-has-to-be-handed today by being silly and happy idiots together by the water. πŸ™‚

We eventually ended up at Kroger to get eggs and drinking water… aka two of the worst possible items to be managing on a bike of any kind, let alone when it’s a first go at riding as a duo on the thing…

We, of course, were fully aware of this thought before even bothering to go.

And, naturally, it was a total success, even with our snake-shaped stick we found on a beach during one of our many stops in our mini-adventure.

And it was a two-and-a-half-gallon jug off drinking water – aka the big ones – and not just a single gallon.

All-in-all, I had a wonderful time and feel totally accomplished.

Post-a-day 2019

Latenight chats

Tuesday morning, 12:45am

………………….

I am sitting at a red light, on my red scooter, contemplating the cool air and my decision to stick with my shorts for the short ride home, instead of putting back on the still-damp bluejeans I had worn earlier.

A large red, lifted truck pulls up next to me on my right, and stops at the light.

I both hear and see the driver’s window going down, just before he, the driver, leans out toward me and, in a completely sound and sober yet slightly twangy voice, says to me:

“Hey(!)…”

“Hi-ii,” I reply with with an extended double syllable.

“The other day,” he continues, without missing a beat, “I was out drivin’, and I saw you out goin’ down f**in’ 59…, and I thought, ‘Shit…, she can go anywhere on that thing.’ You can just drive it everywhere, huh?”

I laugh and give him a ‘basically, yes,’ kind of reply, and tell him how it is 300ccs of power that allow me to drive so comfortably and easily on the highway.

“Did you just one day decide, ‘Okay, I’m not doin’ this anymore,’ and you switched to this so you could reduce your carbon footprint?”

Though his words somewhat shocked me, they were rather applicable to my situation…

“Haha… I mean, kind of, yeah…”

He then tells me how he has one that he rides, but it is not over 150ccs (so he can’t really go much more than, say, about 35 miles per hour on it).

Mine, by the way, can go just enough speed with me on it to time travel… I lack merely a flux capacitor… and some Plutonium, of course. πŸ˜›

The light turns to green, but no one else is around, and I am delighted both by the conversation itself, and the absurdity of it all – plus, the guy is clearly sane and sweet, and paying a compliment while being genuinely curious – he wanted to know how it was even possible, since his scooter wobbles even when big four-doors or fast two-doors pass by.

After the next cycle of the light, however, a car was pulled up behind me, so I went ahead and slowly started moving as we finished up our final exchanges and wished one another a great and safe night.

I then sped my way home in the slightly too cold for comfort air, and rushed to lock up, shower, and get to sleep, grateful for the lively experience of Southern Hospitality and connection – my day certainly has ended on a lovely note.

Now for the sleep part of my nightly plans…

Post-a-day 2019

Sunday, fun day

I painted today.

Twice.

I really enjoyed it, and it made me want to do loads and loads more, and kind of right now.

Something about painting feels addicting – the everything about it, really – and I love it.

My mom was attending a workshop demonstration, and I went to watch and learn the technique, but there were extra spots available, so I even got to participate.

Then, I took home our leftover paint bits, and used them as the first part of the bedsheet I am painting with mixed splatterings of color for a photography backdrop.

On that note, my mom has figured out what to get to make my frame (because I did my measurements this morning) for a backdrop in my sort of pop-up photography studio.

I told her that I want to do photos either next week or the week after, so we need to kick things into gear two or three at this point, and we have.

So, she’s getting the frame stuff hopefully tomorrow.

I’ve asked the model for her schedule in general and on the desired week.

And I even made a Facebook page for my photography, in addition to the Instagram page I already have for it.

I don’t love the Facebook page yet, but it exists and it isn’t bad… shown here.

All of this has arisen out of a visit with a good friend of mine last night at the party.

It lights me up, and I had forgotten that, so I am extremely grateful to our conversations last night. ❀

(Although, I dare say I am not yet convinced of her other ideas and recommendations regarding my [non]dating life and my next steps… we’ll have to see on that one…) πŸ˜›

On a separate note, I lived a short time in a little town in southern Germany several years ago.

I was looking up someone this morning who lives there, checking out his company for which he had given me a card at one point, and which I crossed today.

Tonight, as I see the Instagram story of an old student, I see a photo that looks crazy-familiar to me… I click to see the video that is freeze-framed, and recognize the place even more still… I feel like I know not just the town but the little park area where this video is taking place…

I check, and the location is the right little city – hoorah!… I’m a genius, as we all know!

I then go check some photos of mine and – duh du-du duhhhh – it is exACTly the spot I was thinking…. I even have photos of the same buildings.

Shown here:

The video freeze-frame

My photos at the same location,
though from a slightly different angle

Isn’t that nuts?!

Super cool, though.

I love things like that happening.

I remember once talking with a pair of people who were recent visitors of Rome, and one shows the other a photo in front of Trevi Fountain, at which point the other pulls out his phone to show the same lady in the background of his photo as who was in her photo – they had been there at the same time, and had the same woman in the background of their photos from different angles.

They, of course, hadn’t known each other at the time, and so wouldn’t have noticed to greet one another, and therefore did not notice one another.

Anyway, fun stuff, right?

…….

One other thing I want to note about conversations from last night:

When discussing the whole recent conversations with a girlfriend and guy regarding physical comfort and confidence (see here), I was mentioning how the guy had said that I needed to worry less about what other people think, as part of sharing the conversation.

At this point, however, a friend across the room cut in, “Okay, wo-wo-wo-woah…. someone said You need to stop caring so much about what people think??…..”

“Mmhmm,” I start to reply, but she continues over me, addressing me and the room at large.

“Does he know you, like, at all??… I don’t think I know anyone who cares less about what other people think than Hannah…”

The other friends in the room give their agreement confidently, and we all begin popcorning smiles and laughter around the room as people give further comments and repeat what the guy had told me, amazed.

I hadn’t thought much about it, but I definitely see her point – I really don’t care much about what other people think of me.

I do care, but only so much, and that ‘so much’ is a whole lot less than the average person’s level of concern for what other people think of him/her.

For the most part, I worry only in the situations that could directly affect me, like avoiding doing something that would have my boss/superiors wanting to fire me, or something like that…. and my only other sensitive area is specifically making sure my body doesn’t come across as displaying the message, ‘Do me now, oh, baby, oh, baby.’

Because, unfortunately, that one can result in actually dangerous situations…, so as I’ve mentioned before, I care about my own safety, and therefore will care accordingly about how people perceive me…

Otherwise, though, it’s laughable how often I do things that most people would avoid for fear of what others might think.

Aka constantly…

Anyway…., goodnight fair World.

I am off to sleep for an early, early rising tomorrow.

Sweet dreams unto you.

Peace

Hannah

Post-a-day 2019

Riding the bus with my mother

There are three lots on my block which recently have had their houses demolished.

Two of the lots are nearing the end of construction on their new houses, and the third has, so far, sat empty for a while.

Just about every morning, around 7:30, workers arrive and get to making noise on this, that, or the other part of construction for the two houses.

I have noticed a certain inattention to caution regarding trash and scraps, and so have been quite careful not ever to walk over by either of the houses, as there is an ever-changing blanket of glass, nails, wood pieces, and other sharp objects on the ground by them both.

Today, in an effort to dodge some potholes, my mother drove directly in front of these two houses…

A few hours, a free concert, and almost five hundred dollars later, she had two new rear tires on her car, out of necessity, not desire.

You see, she was picking me up to go to an opera performance, thus her being on my street in the first place.

She had dropped me off to allow me to go use the bathroom and to pick up our tickets at will-call, and gone to park her car, only to discover that the tire pressure, whose warning light had signaled on our way to the performance, was decreasing at an alarming pace, and so needed to be handled immediately.

She told me to leave her ticket at will-call for her, and that she would join me when she could, and then took her car to the one place she found open on a Sunday to handle such issues as her current tire predicament (which, fortunately, was only about a mile away from where we were).

At intermission, she joined me at our seats, her having sat at the back for the first part, due to her having arrived late.

She informed me that she had made it to the performance by asking a woman to drop her off, since it was only about a mile away from where she had had to bring her car.

We laughed at the slight absurdity of it all, and discussed how to get back to the car after the performance ended.

Yes, it was close, but the place would close only half an hour after the performance ended, and my mom wasn’t in running shoes (nor was I).

So, I offered the idea of my spare bus card.

At first, she aimed to find someone we knew after the performance ended, so as to ask for a ride.

Then, she considered Uber (but I was opposed for the cost of it, and the fact that my account isn’t set up properly anymore for here [remember how I lived in Japan]), before reconsidering just asking someone else from the performance whom we didn’t know.

We were running short on time, and I didn’t feel comfortable asking for help, when I had means to handle the situation myself – I’m always rather like that… if I can do it myself, even if it is more difficult, I typically still will handle it myself, so that I only ask for help when I truly need it.

So, I looked up the bus route options, and started walking to the bus stop, which was enough encouragement for my mom to give up her idea and go with mine.

I knew her main opposition was simply the same as most people’s in Houston – most people do not use the busses here, unless they financially have no other means of getting around, making the bulk of bus patronage poor laborers, cleaners, minimum wage people in rough situations, and homeless people…, and that can be an uncomfortable, and almost dangerous-feeling experience for those who do not belong to those groups of individuals…, and it can somewhat easily create a feeling of being somewhere dirty, at times…, so no one wants to ride the busses in Houston…, not really, anyway.

I, myself, struggle with it, despite the fact that I use the busses here… I want to promote public transit as much as possible, but I also prefer feeling safe and clean than the opposite, you know?

Nonetheless, it was our most logical option today (in my head, anyway), so we went for the bus.

Another lady coming from a similar downtown performance also joined us in waiting for the bus, and it was quite cool to me to see another ‘normal’ person, so to speak, taking the bus.

My mom, while waiting, mentioned how she had never ridden the bus here, and that she was a bit excited for it.

I smiled and was glad, and told her how it all worked, and that it was mostly just like any other public transit she had ridden elsewhere (except in Vienna, which has one of the best public transit systems ever, and in all aspects of it).

While riding, she asked about how to signal for our stop, and I explained her two options, however, another woman clicked for our stop first.

I told my mom that she could push the tape anyway, just to have the experience and to know what it’s like, pushing the tape on our busses, and she replied coolly and smiling, “I’m touching enough.”

We had seen a whole range of riders come aboard, including all of the stereotypes, smells and all, but also a few other ‘normal’-esque individuals.

Nonetheless, I understood entirely why she had no interest in touching anything more than was necessary at this point.

When we exited the bus, I rushed off in one direction on my predetermined path to the car place, while covering my gaze to the right hand side, and ignoring my mom’s questioning as to why I was going that particular direction, knowing that she would follow me because of my quick pace.

When we were walking into the driveway of the car place, I slowed and dropped my hand, turning toward my mom and informing her of how I had been avoiding any sort of interaction with the man who had been urinating in the trash can that was next to the bus stop.

No, I had not been certain of that being his task, but it looked to be enough so, and I had no interest in discovering anything further on the matter, and so I blocked it from my view, and headed off with the intention of getting away as soon as was possible.

It is funny to me a bit – perhaps ironic – that my mom has told me so much since I’ve moved back to Houston (from Japan) that I need to be careful here, and that it is not like Japan, and yet she does not herself seem to understand how to be careful when in Houston.

She asked why I hadn’t gone the other way around the block, and I, at first, didn’t understand why she was asking – was it not obvious?

And, of course, it wasn’t obvious, I realized… she had no idea the type of hangout that the area was, nor that more people tended to hang out over by that underpass all along its length, and that it was a better idea for us to avoid it altogether, always.

So, while being a bit nervous at my mother’s lack of understanding as to how to be safe in Downtown Houston, I also was consoled in my own ability to be safe here – without realizing it, I had developed my own appropriate way to keep myself safe here in Houston – that’s part of why I tend not to go out at night.

I typically ride my bicycle or scooter, or even take the bus or walk for getting around anywhere near me, and none of those is a very good idea at night…., so I usually just don’t go.

I had begun to think it was merely because of my anti-social emotional side lately, and my dislike for drunk people, but this had me recall that it is more than just an aversion for stupid people that keeps me in most nights. πŸ˜›

Anyway, my mom picked up her car and was bummed about having to spend the money, as was I, but we were grateful for the bit of time we had been able to spend letting my mom experience a Houston Metro bus, and that, at the very least, the concert itself had been free.

But this did remind me of that time we drove way up north to a special spring to get some free, natural spring sulfurous water straight from the source – the city had it posted that anyone could come have water from it, so long as the sun is up – and then drive back home an hour and a half, during which time my mom commented, “Well, that was the most expensive free water I’ve ever gotten,” referring to the gasoline cost and the tolls crossed for the journey. πŸ˜›

It’s been a bit of a joke of ours ever since then.

And so, today’s performance, one could say, was the most expensive free concert we’ve ever attended. πŸ˜›

(Actually, my mom did say that… haha… I’d forgotten that it wasn’t just something I’d thought, but that seems actually said aloud. πŸ˜‚)

Post-a-day 2019

Story-time

Staring at the ceiling, slumped backward over the sofa cushion that had been knocked onto the floor at some unknown time in the evening, Ch—- inhales sharply, and releases in a heavy sigh…, “Man…, I wanna do something!” he declares.

“Like what?” responds C—, only half interested in his little brother’s response.

“I don’ know…. just something….”

M—- chuckles from his spot in a chair across the room, resuming his tossing of a Hacky Sack into the air over and over again with the same hand, having abandoned actually standing and kicking it around in the air half an hour earlier… Ch—- always says this.

“It’s not like we can actually go anywhere, anyway, Ch—,” M— reminds him, “seeing as how it’s already nine o’clock and all, and your parents have gone to bed.”

Ch—- is silent for a moment, reflecting, ignoring M—‘s comment.

“I wanna go swimming,” Ch—- says, “That’s what I wanna do: go swimming.

Let’s go swimming, you guys!”

“In which pool exactly?… None are open and, in case you forgot, we don’t have a pool,” C— calmly reminds him.

Silence.

M— speaks up, “Swimming actually would be pretty nice right now.. zI could totally go for a swim.”

Baffled, C— regards him, eyebrows scrunched together, raised.

What?” asks M—, defensively, “I’m just saying I’m not against the idea.”

“Again, where would we be doing this swimming? Nowhere is open.”

“Too bad we don’t live near the ocean – the beach is always open!” Ch— chimes in, somewhat passively.

Silence…

C— turns to look at M—, then slowly tilts his head to one side, eyebrows raised…

M— regards C—, questioning at first, and then raises his eyebrows in recognition, drops the sides of his lips, and raises a shoulder, as if to say, ‘Why not?’

“Whadda you say?” asks C— to M—.

Ch— sits up suddenly, looking back and forth between the two older boys, jaw dropping in disbelief.

M—- smiles.

“Let’s do this,” declares C—-.

The three jump up, and each rushes to grab a few items, including the keys, use a bathroom, eat a quick snack before moving silently and stealthily toward the minivan that is parked in the driveway – their mother’s minivan and the only vehicle C— has started driving since getting his license recently.

An hour later, the trio find themselves on the Galveston beach, Ch— frolicking gaily in the sand at the water’s edge, while the other two take another hit on their unsophisticated and uncaring palates.

Ch— and M— share a drink or two, but they forbid C— from drinking – he is still driving them home later, and even the stupidity of the youth has its limits when dealing with genuinely smart and somewhat self-aware teenage boys.

By three a.m., they are careening back toward Houston, searching for a gas station with a vacuum to clean out C— and Ch—‘s mom’s minivan – it is filled with sand, though no one quite remembers when or how it all got in there – the haze of the fun was kind of in the way for them.

Eventually, they find it, and somehow manage to clean the minivan up really well, returning it to its nighttime place in the driveway.

Finally back home, the boys head silently into the back of the house, and lapse into total unconsciousness in the form of sleep.

It is five a.m.

At seven, their mom wakes up, and heads off to work, leaving the boys to their usual sleeping in routine, unconcerned.

When, after a week, no parent has mentioned anything, the boys begin to believe fully that they actually away with it.

And, somehow, they did

Post-a-day 2019

Family (and Chuck)

My uncle is a big hunter.

He even went to Africa to do the super expensive hunting, where you pay a boatload of money that goes to preservation of the land and animals as a whole, in exchange for killing an animal they permit you to hunt (due to numbers being high enough in the particular species).

He takes hunting trips to various places throughout the year, and has for decades.

Certain parts of his house (they are rather contained to one room, though rugs are upstairs, too) are a testament to the fact that he hunts somewhat often and often quite successfully.

Keeping that in mind, consider the following text message exchange that happened between him and me today:

H: Adam gave me a Chuck Norris fact book, and my mom wanted me to share this one with you, because, she thought that, perhaps, you would like to update your vocabulary:

Chuck Norris doesn’t go hunting. The word β€˜hunting’ implies a possibility of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.

Uncle: LMAO!!!!!

H: πŸ˜‚

……….

Fabulous, right? πŸ˜›

Haha

Post-a-day 2019

Dorks

My brother asked me if I was doing a carry-on bag for our trip.

I told him that I was, and he said that he was hoping/planning to do the same for the whole trip (with an exclamation point at the end!).

That was in text messages.

Talking over the phone a little while later, after our tickets (one set of them, anyway) were booked, we discussed the bags again, and the matter of bringing only a carry-on bag plus a purse.

‘My biggest concern right now is really what watch I’m gonna bring,’ he says to me.

‘I know what watch I’m bringing!’ I counter, and my mom laughs behind me, knowing full well what my brother must have just said, and laughing at him for it (not at my comment alone).

I only currently wear the watch this same brother gave to me several months ago.

It is awesome, and I wear it lovingly and with pride at the company, at my brother for finding and supporting it, and a little at myself for wearing it.

eone Bradley Compass Graphite

My brother knows this, and so does my mother, so we all got my teasing joke of a comment, and, once I told my brother that Mom was laughing, we all laughed at his dilemma.

My brother has an entire collection of watches, each one different from the rest, and all of them stellar quality and style…, and I would guess that they add up to around a hundred thousand dollars altogether…

He typically travels with three watches as a minimum – a casual chic, a sport, and a work watch that doubles as formal.

Sometimes, I believe, he brings something like seven, when it’s a longer trip, and he’ll have varied activities in which to participate and events to attend.

I always bring my one watch, and simply remove it whenever I do sport.

(The moment this company comes out with a sports-safe version of their watches, however, I am totally likely to have two watches, and quite suddenly so…. until that time, however, I have just the one.)

We absolutely love my brother’s love of watches, and I laud him for and value his efforts in creating watches with an awesome private watch company that has begun to make watches for him and to use him and his sports to create advertising for their watches…. frankly, he has done what we all dream to do, by turning a dorky passion into something that not only allows him to pursue his passion but to be encouraged in it and to be paid through it, all while always having a wonderful time with it all.

I am proud to share blood with him, and I love having fun with him around his love of watches (and many other things, too, actually).

At the end of our call, I ask him how the boating went with his friends earlier.

He tells me that he took some pictures, and so he’ll send me something.

After a few moments of flipping through photos, he sends me a wrist shot of the watch his buddy temporarily swapped him for two of his watches…

Seriously, brother?… You went boating, and you took pictures, and the only photo that actually comes out of it all is one of your wrist and a watch, where you really can’t tell that you’re out on a boat in the first place?

But, for him, of course it is. πŸ˜›

And, to be fair, when I saw the photo, while my secondary comment and thought related to the aforementioned concept, my first thought and comment were immediate: “His Carbotech!”

I knew exactly what watch it was, and even I was excited that my brother was getting to wear this watch… πŸ˜›

Post-a-day 2019

Rules

There is a school zone that has been illuminated on my way home from school (which is work) every afternoon so far this week.

The school is clearly not in session, because there is no one visible on the campus, but I also know that schools are just not yet in session again for the year.

However, the flashing lights flash, making the speed limit 20 miles per hour.

And everyone except for me ignores it.

Fortunately, there aren’t too many cars at the time I’m heading home, so they avoid me easily enough.

I on my Vespa putz alone at 20mph, while everyone zips by at their standard 38-40mph (the regular speed limit is 35mph)…

I follow the rules.

Plus, I really would like to steer clear of anything but good things, when it comes to driving and safety.

But yeah… that’s a bit annoying and troublesome, how people handle the school zone…. also that it isn’t turned off while the school is clearly still on break…

Anyway…

Post-a-day 2019