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Sometimes as I drive to work, I amuse myself by checking out the names of the roads on my way and wondering about them.

Yup. That’s me. Living the dream.

Anyway. The roads I take are a little strange, because they’re a combination of old twisty-turny farm roads and newer roads around subdivisions. I always wonder why the roads are named the way they are.

Some roads around here are named after people. “Brunner”. “Stryker”. Or, in that straightforward Pennsylvania Dutch way, for pieces of equipment – “Sickle”. “Chock”.

Some are named for landmarks. This can be a little confusing. For example there isn’t any blue church on “Blue Church Road”. The church that’s there is made of respectable grey stone. On the other hand, maybe the church feels blue? Does it play the blues? Does it have a Blue Christmas?

Some road names are ironic. “Beverly Hill Road” is indeed a hill, but the houses on it are respectable middle class, not high-end boutiques. People always give me a second look when I tell them I’m driving on Beverly Hill. Swimming pools. Movie stars.

Then there are the names that seem to come out of nowhere. I noticed this morning that one of the subdivision roads was named “October Glory Circle”. Wow. What a great name. Sounds majestic, doesn’t it? As if angels should be singing it. Oooocccctooobberrr GLLLLOOORRRYYYY!!!! AHHHH!!!!

We seem to have a lot of roads named after nuts. I can’t count the number of “Chestnut”s, “Acorn”s and “Walnut”s around. Sometimes a road is named after a physical characteristic, a landmark AND a nut. Thus we have “Chestnut Hill Church Road”.

Speaking of “Chestnut Hill Church Road”, it goes merrily along its way, then comes to a very short, gentle hill. At the top of the hill it’s Chestnut Hill Church Road. At the bottom it’s “Baumgartner Road”. WTF?

A lot of roads around here change their names at various points for no apparent reason. One road I drive on has at least three names from beginning to end. And it’s a straight road – no dog-legs. Hardly any turns. The main street in the town where I work changes names three times in about 5 miles. Why? Who the heck knows! “Take Second Street…I mean Chestnut Hill…I mean Grant…Oh, hell.”

And don’t even get me started on all of the roads with the same name. “Acorn. No, not that Acorn, THAT Acorn.”

Thus you now know the reason why nobody around here will give you directions.  It’s not that we’re rude.  There’s just no point.

 

 

One interesting fact about myself I did give to Carina Press to post on their Twitter feed is my belief that I scared Baryshnikov one day. Since this was a defining moment in my life, I thought I’d give you the whole story.

So, my friend Lisa and I were in New York City. We were in our early twenties, probably 21 or 22 and, like all other young adults going to NYC, we had been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Yes, as a matter of fact, we WERE geeks.

I am still a geek. Lisa, on the other hand, is very cool.

Anyway, we went from the museum to the Lincoln Center. I can’t remember if we walked or took the subway, but I DO remember that I was carrying a coffee table book about the Met in my backpack.

Have I mentioned that we were geeks?

I think we might have been going to see an opera because we stopped at the Metropolitan Opera Shop at Lincoln Center. Lisa went towards the back of the store, but I was lingering closer to the door when a man walked in. He was kind of short, had light brown hair, and was wearing leg warmers. Obviously he was a ballet dancer.

I was a HUGE Baryshnikov fangirl at the time (still am, come to that). This man looked a lot like him. Baryshnikov wasn’t really dancing anymore, but he was with the American Ballet Theater as a director. The ABT performs at Lincoln Center. We were at Lincoln Center. This man was wearing leg warmers.  Ballet dancers wear leg warmers.  He looked like Baryshnikov.

Ergo, thought I, he must be Baryshnikov.

I believe that I let out a shriek. I did not fall upon him, however. I had more dignity than that. I ran to find Lisa and squealed (pretty loudly) “I think I just saw Baryshnikov!” She came running back with me to see for herself.

And he was gone.

It was just SO odd…why would he leave? Could he have sensed that we were about to mob him and create a scene? Hmmm….

All of these years later, I look back on this incident and ask myself, “Did you really scare Baryshnikov? Or did you just terrify a random man wearing leg warmers?”

I’ll never know for sure.  But I tell everyone it was Baryshnikov. It just sounds better that way.

As you may, or may not, know, Carina Press asked me to come up with three interesting facts about myself to use during the release week promotion for HOLD ME.

Oy! Can there be a more daunting task? Part of the problem was that the two most interesting facts about me are:

1. I wrote a book
2. It got published

And frankly, those seemed just a little too obvious (since it was the book…being…promoted…).

Fortunately, I finally did come up with a few things. But today I thought I’d share some of the interesting facts about me that I rejected along the way. So, here we go!

1. Upon request, I can sing the entire score to Oklahoma, Carousel, The Music Man, Jesus Christ Superstar, Godspell, and Top Hat.

2. For Top Hat, I also provide appropriate dance routines (email me for open tour dates).

3. If required, I can play “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” on the recorder. I play other things, but I don’t know what they are.  Neither does anyone else.

4. I failed typing in high school, but now I type very fast. (so THERE!)

5. My Driver’s Ed teacher called me “Crash”. I think I scared him a couple of times.

6. One of my cats used to lick plastic shower curtains until I was forced to take them down and hide them from him. Now he’s gone, but my shower curtain is still cloth. I don’t want to risk that he passed his addiction on to the other cats.

7. My ambition is to live either 1) on the coast of Maine in a windswept house overlooking the Atlantic 2) on the coast of Oregon in a windswept house overlooking the Pacific, 3) in the Scottish Highlands in a windswept house overlooking a picturesque loch, or 4) in the Marriott Marquis hotel overlooking Times Square.

8. When I was visiting Las Vegas, I became addicted to a Spanish soap opera. I don’t speak Spanish.

9. In my youth, I collected two complete sets of “Empire Strikes Back” bubble gum trading cards. Today they are worth exactly – nothing.  But I remain ever hopeful.

10. I own a leopard print Snuggie. And I use it.

Hey, I can’t help it if I don’t have many interesting things going on in my life! I mean, it’s not as if I’m an international super spy working for a clandestine government agency….

Or is it? Hmmmm…

 

Boy, last week was one of THOSE weeks. A week when you want to  throw back your head and howl to the (full) moon “I am not an animal! I am a human being! AAAOOOOOOOO!!!!”

But everything’s okay now, because at some point during the week Fall arrived.

I missed the arrival – I was trapped in my cubicle, tied to a computer, eyes bleeding. But when I woke up on Saturday morning I said myself, “Self, this feels like FALL!”

I love Fall. Winter is wonderful, Spring is fine, I tolerate Summer, but Fall is my kind of season. There’s something about the cool bite in the air contrasted with the warmth of sun. Something about the colors of the trees, the dry rustle of leaves underfoot. Something about the smells in the wind. You can smell apples and sage even when there aren’t any apples or sage around. At least I can.

In that backwards way I have, I come alive again in fall. All summer long I’ve been in a hot, wet, pressure cooker (especially this year). For various reasons I have to be careful how much time I’m outside in the summer, so I’m trapped in air conditioning most of the time. Then fall comes, and I am released.

But it’s more than just a physical release. There’s something about the season that releases my creativity as well. I want to write. I want to paint. I want to run naked through the fields…

Okay, not that last one.

Well, if I DID want to run naked through the fields, I wouldn’t post it on my blog.

Except I just did.

I think I love the bittersweetness of fall, the urgency. The world around me prepares to go to sleep for the long hibernation of winter with a beauty that is both stunning and fleeting. It is a reminder of the reality that all beauty, all life, goes through its cycles. As we watch it, we are connected to it and by it.

Maybe I love fall more now because I am in the (EARLY!) fall of my own life. Seeing the seasons change reminds me of the beauty I own within myself, and the importance of loving every moment I am given.

That’s important to remember. Especially after one of THOSE weeks.