Speaking of...

As stated earlier this morning, there are certain words out here in New England such as pocketbook and cellar that drive me nuts. Other words, like wicked, I have embraced whole-heartily.

Along similar lines, when my cousin Greg and his wife and friends were out here we went for lunch at 11:30 a.m. When he told the hostess we were there for dinner I think that really through her for a loop. She laughed and said "I think you're here a little early for dinner." Actually, as opposed to supper, we were there right on time.

This morning's conversation with Lincoln got me thinking about the different lingo that I've picked up (or been bugged by) throughout my life living in Iowa, Washington, Arkansas, Minnesota, and Massachusetts. Here are a few of my favorites and my biggest pet peeves.

Iowa/Minnesota: Supper and Pop. After 21 years away from Iowa I use these less and less but they still come up in conversation every now and then. The funniest story I have about this is when we took Lincoln's brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and niece back to Iowa with us for summer vacation a few years ago. When we got to my parents house in Wisconsin they offered them pop and cheese curds. Wha??? I think they were so stunned and confused by the word pop they didn't even hear the part about cheese curds at first.

Washington: Honestly, I can't think of a single thing that I picked up in Washington State other than soda (vs. pop).

Arkansas: Ahh....Arkansas. The land of y'all and fixin'. Y'all was an easy one to pick up but I swore I would never use fixin' until it just slipped out one day and then it was all over but the crying. I love that one. I don't use it as much as I used to but I still enjoy a good "I'm fixin' to go to the store. Do you need anything?" every now and then. One I never did like....and will never embrace....is the use of the word buggy for a shopping cart. A buggy should be something you push your baby in, not your groceries. The other one that made me laugh is coke as a word to cover all soda (Washington), pop (Midwest), or tonic (Massachusetts). As in, "I'd like a coke please." "What kind of kind of coke?" "A Sprite, thanks."

Massachusetts: As previously stated, pocketbook and cellar drive me nuts. So does bureau for a thing you put your clothes in (that's called a dresser in my opinion). I actually don't mind packie so much, it just doesn't come naturally to me. I have, however, fully embraced the word wicked. You can really use it in just about any situation. For example, "This post is wicked random, what the hell is she rambling about?"

Yes, these are the thoughts I have when stuck on my long commute. Similar to my "Ode to Massachusetts Weather" the other day. I really need to find a job closer to home.

In a rut

This morning I was doing a bunch of stuff for the PTO while also helping Lincoln get the kids ready for school. On Thursdays and Fridays we actually have a little extra time in the morning since Jake doesn't need to be dropped off until 8:45 and Hannah until 9:00 a.m. (as opposed to Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays when Hannah has to be at Grandma and Grandpa's no later than 8:15 a.m. to catch the bus.)

Lincoln left the house with the kids shortly before 8:45 a.m. and I wrapped up what I was working on before racing up to take a shower and head into work. This of course meant I didn't have time to dry my hair. Here is where the "in a rut" part comes into play.

It's not uncommon for me to run out of the house with a head of wet hair. I must say most mornings I'm running out of the house at the last minute. Luckily I know that if I leave the house with wet hair that by the time I get to work it will be dry enough to pull back into a pony tail. Along those same lines I know which lights I'm likely to hit that will be red. I can stop at one and put product in my hair and know that by the next red light it will be ready to pull back.

As I was doing this routine this morning it occurred to me that I have been doing this commute for seven years. SEVEN YEARS! It's no wonder that I have it down to a science. I knew by the fact that I reached my exit at 9:48 a.m. I would be exactly three minutes late to work. And I was! I arrived at exactly 10:03 a.m. I know which lights are likely to be red and which ones I can usually time to be green. I know that from the exit to work there is no way to make it in less than 15 minutes no matter what I do. I know which lanes to be in and that Thursday is garbage pick-up day on Charlesbank Road, a tight windy road that is not enjoyable on Thursdays. I know how the light cycles on the stop lights work and can usually guess when the light is going to turn judging by when people gun their engines as it turns yellow to get through a particular intersection with a long light cycle.

I really need to find a new way to work.

135 minutes

My usual 50-60 minute morning commute took me 135 minutes this morning. Yes, two and a half hours to go 35 miles. And it was all because of a car accident that happened about 20 miles away ON ANOTHER ROAD!!!! I take I-90 into the city. I-90 intersects with another major highway, Rt. 128/I-95. It can be a fairly busy interchange even on a slow day because a lot of people get off and head either north or south on 128/95 because there are a number of large companies along that highway. Apparently there was an accident on 128/95 today that caused a 20 mile back-up which then in turn affected all the highways, including I-90, that feed into 128/95. It was absolutely insane. Luckily I left the house at about 7:35 this morning. I was aiming to get to work by 9 a.m. but instead managed to get there at 9:50 a.m. We open at 10.