I suppose if you knew that I’d been a long-distance trucker it wouldn’t surprise you to know that I’d rather drive then fly whenever I can. Flying used to be fun—back when there were fewer travelers, when I was in college and could still dash from one gate to another, and when a size 10 still fit the seats. Need I say that none of those things work for me anymore?
Driving, on the other hand, means you can pretty much adjust the seat the way you want. You can make it hotter or cooler. You can take potty breaks without having to wait for hundreds of other people to finish first. Sure, you have to buy snacks and Cokes, but at least you can get snacks. If you’re driving somewhere, you can throw your jacket in the backseat, bring as much luggage as the trunk will hold without being charged, and actually get to see the countryside inside of the tops of clouds. Ever listened to Neil Diamond’s America with headphones on a plane? Compare that to turning up the volume and singing along at the top of your lungs while dancing in the seat. The beat goes so well with the thumps in the road. Sigh. There’s no comparison.
To me, there’s something very relaxing about driving. Of course, it’s easier 
to be relaxed in the west of the U.S. than in the crowded east, but even there I just like having some control over my life with my hands on the wheel. I try not to let people push me. I find a comfortable speed and hang in there. If someone wants to go faster, there’s usually a way to pass. Mores the pity, though, because I’m watching the signs, wondering where the people in all the cars are going, and who lives in that pretty blue house on the right side of the road. Life is good. Oh yeah, and I might spend a passing moment following the contrails of a jet overhead.
Which do you prefer, driving or flying?
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
Burning Bridges by Anne Krist: old letters put the lie to Sara’s life. Now, mending her past mistakes while crossing burning bridges will be the hardest thing she’s ever done.
Ah! Winning the lottery Who doesn’t dream of this happening? I’ve dreamed of it so often, for years I considered it my Retirement Plan. No. Really.
show it off to Jack. Scotland is one of my favorite places on earth.
aren’t so many changes marked by editors now. Impatient Passion was the first time I’d ever been edited, excluding school where “editing” meant being graded. I didn’t view it as a fun experience then. Since then I’ve come to accept that it’s a part of the writing process—a good part!
I am of the firm opinion that D-I-E-T is a 4-letter word. It can make strong women gasp and weak women wilt. It stirs more feelings between the sexes as other, more sexual words do not. Such as, Gender A resents the feeling that they have to diet to please Gender B, and Gender B feels some guilt for the desire to see Gender A in skimpy bathing suits that might require—yes—a diet.
near the water. Nine years in Virginia Beach during my pre-teen and teen years meant that my mother and I spent March, April, and May eating lots of carrots and celery sticks. Neither of us wanted to be odd girl out when we hit the beaches—not that I did all that often with my Irish, burn-don’t-tan complexion. But still, I wanted to look the part. I can attest to the fact that dieting for summer is a stupid way to live your life, and fortunately, I gave it up many years ago.
Excerpt:
Yes, when I read something outside my comfort zone, it is likely to be non-fiction. Why is non-fiction kind of weird for me to read? Because I love romance, thrillers, police and FBI procedurals, legal mysteries, all things that spur emotion. And let’s face it, most non-fiction doesn’t really make your heart jump or adrenaline spike. Or the heart go pitter-patter. But once in a while I do pick up a non-fiction book. But only when the subject matter really (really, really) appeals to me.
Bradley) told the story of the U.S. Marines at Iwo Jima. This was a hard book to read at times, but my father-in-law fought in the Pacific as did my great-uncle, so I thought it was important. Marine! The Life of Chesty Puller (Burke Davis) tells the story of the Marine Corps legend. My father-in-law was a Marine and you say the words Chesty Puller and practically every Marine in the room stands to attention. I wanted to know why.
I don’t know if I’ve ever revealed this or not, but I am not the most disciplined person in the world. I used to be better. If I started reading a book, I finished reading the book. If I began a needle work project, I finished the needlework project. If I set a resolution at New Years, I followed through with said resolution.
things differently than when we were younger. When you feel like the whole of life is stretched out in front of you, pushing through that 1,000-page book about earthworms in the Antarctic doesn’t seem quite so bad (I said quite so bad!). You might even make your own annotations. But now? Give me a good 300-page romance and forget earthworms. I leave the 15×15 inch counted cross stitch to someone else to do now, and I usually avoid making resolutions.
Resolutions seem to be fly-by-night. If something is important enough to do, you don’t wait until New Year’s Eve and decide to do it. You weigh the pros and cons and make a logical decision. You make a plan, set a path, and follow it because you know it’s right, not because you suddenly feel overweight after weeks of holiday food. You do it because you need to and when you need to.
I remember my Catechism classes often mentioned temptation. We had the picture of the snake wrapped around the Tree of Life on the wall, tempting Eve who then turned around with an apple pie and tempted Adam. Of course, like many men he couldn’t resist a piece of pie and the rest is history. Temptation, we were taught is the thing of the devil and must be avoided at all costs—or we would be sorry. But is that true? In my life, I’ve given in to temptation lots and been happy about it. I believe that temptation isn’t always a bad thing. Am I wrong? Do the women on the Titanic regret not giving in to the temptation of that French pastry after dinner? I’ll bet they do, and really where was the harm, in the overall scheme of things?
you’re rational about it, it’s a relative thing. Accepted after weighing the negative and positive sides, temptation is not always a bad thing. And it can be fun!
I know many people bemoan the work that goes into hosting or visiting family at the holidays, but I am not one of them, except in one respect. First, about my family holidays.
wonderful! I understand how that might not be so if there is too much selfishness and too little care evident. That is if folks don’t get together to share the joys of the season and instead make it obvious that the day is about them and not everyone else. Believe me, I have been at family events where there is too much drinking or arguments spring up or one person is expected to do all the work. No fun. Not like family. If this is your situation, you might have to work harder at enjoying the holiday, but it can still be done.
large the kids have grown, with how each of us is getting more frail in our own ways or stronger. It gives us a chance to laugh with one another and maybe to cry, while sharing the load of what makes us cry. It provides a chance for photos with sparkly backgrounds, that we can examine later and smile over.
snarled traffic. This is the number one reason why no one in our family gets together on holidays—it’s too darn much trouble.
I’ve always considered myself a pretty fast writer—when I write. I mean, I could eat lunch at work and still knock out a thousand words. I have written a 90K word book in a month. But the one year I tried NANOWRIMO, I choked. Couldn’t write 300 words in a day. Couldn’t get through a chapter in a week. Couldn’t… Well, couldn’t finish NANOWRIMO.
NANOWRIMO, but I did not. The discipline that NANOWRIMO gives you is a good thing, but when faced with it I turned out to be the biggest wuss ever. It’s not for me, I’m afraid. But for those who thrive under the NANOWRIMO pressure, more power to you! Enjoy the month. I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.