Life in the Slow Lane

We have been told many times that there is more glass on the inside of our new office building than there is around the outside. This truth brings many things to mind, but today I wish to mention the strange matter of the two worlds currently existing inside the building. And by that I mean those who are on the construction team and those who are my fellow co-workers. Yesterday as I walked along the glass overlooking the main construction zone, I heard someone start whistling about the girl from Ipanema . Later a fellow co-worker and I stopped to marvel at the enormous pieces of marble being installed, and a third co-worker came by to ask what we were looking at. I said "Oh, we were just admiring that huge hunk" and I stumbled, thinking that it was a very poor choice of words, but it was too late to take it back, "of marble." The acoustics in that building are enough to make you worry about a slip like that. But maybe with all of the drilling and banging and pou

It may come as a surprise to you, but occasionally I find myself without anything noteworthy to say about Life in the Slow Lane. Of course, the lack of noteworthy sayings is precisely why this blog carries this particular name. But recently I have come across many blogs that meet their posting quota through themed days. Sharing tips and recipes and books read and books to read and yellow card questions and found license plate numbers and drawings by brilliant six year olds . I've seriously considered joining ranks with a few, but are you interested in knowing how to make a BAT sandwich (Bacon, Asparagus, Tomato) or how to drown out noisy neighbors with a turbo fan or that I just finished reading (and reviewing) a book about being a wife and mother? (My reviewing this book is on par with handing out marital and parenting advice... I have so many years of experience to draw from.) And I seem to be suffering a severe lack of yellow card questions, brilliant six year olds, and

This is a favorite dinner-time story at my house, so I thought I would share it with you all. It's called "Meal Planning or This is the Dinner that I Want to Eat". It goes like this: This is the tortellini that I want to eat. This is the pasta sauce to go with the tortellini that I want to eat. This is the frozen juice that needs to be made up to leave room for the left overs of the pasta sauce that will go with the tortellini that I want to eat. This is the cottage cheese that must be eaten to make room for the juice that needs to be made up to leave room for the left overs of the pasta sauce that will go with the tortellini that I want to eat. This is the applesauce that must be opened to go with the cottage cheese that must be eaten to make room for the juice that needs to be made up to leave room for the left overs of the pasta sauce that will go with the tortellini that I want to eat. These are the eggs that must be scrambled to provide room for the applesauce

I've often wondered how the camp song "Wadally-acha" came to be. Besides the ridiculous words and the hand motions that will have your hands colliding as they try to go from your ear to your nose and back again, well... I can't think of anything besides that. The point is, until you've had a while to practice, you are likely to end up with a bruise or two. I've been reminded of this song recently for a number of reasons. I have listed them below: 1. Ear plugs to drown out the worst of the noise 2. Headphones to go over the ear plugs to give a more pleasant background noise. 3. Dust mask to keep plaster particles and wood dust in my lungs to a minimum. 4. Blanket across my lap to keep away the chill. Now I can keep all of these in place while I am busily working on writing a letter, but say the phone rings or someone stops by my desk to remark on the noise. Suddenly I have to make several moves... remove the headphones first, no maybe the dust mask, no - wai

Like I asked here , what will I be singing when the fumes come to play at my desk? I'm sorry to say that I'm not doing much singing at all. I feel kind of like I do after traveling in airplanes for 24 hours, eating only questionable meals and breathing recycled oxygen again and again and again. For those of you who have never traveled for that long, imagine what you would feel like after swinging upside down for half an hour with your head in a pressure cooker. The only problem is that I never left the ground and I had one amazing sandwich for lunch. But I think I may go lie down now so I don't have to see the sandwich again.

* Viewer discretion advised: Not for the weak stomached or newly pregnant * When I was young, it was a frequent thing for me to hear someone compare what came out of a squished cockroach with mayonnaise . However, when I was young I had a great deal of exposure to squished cockroaches and no exposure at all to mayonnaise . And so while it was perfectly normal for those who were familiar with mayonnaise to compare dead roaches to it, it became perfectly normal for me to compare mayonnaise to the innards of roaches. And I tried valiantly to avoid mayonnaise at every cost. I also avoided everything else that looked alarmingly similar, like cottage cheese. In the college cafeteria, the huge vat of applesauce was frequently next to the huge vat of cottage cheese, and while the cafeteria food was enough to drive me back to eating applesauce, it was not enough to drive me back to eating applesauce contaminated by cottage cheese. Over the years mayonnaise was introduced to my diet by

Dish Soap. Palmolive : "Toughest on Grease" Dawn : "Best on Grease" Ajax : "Super Degreaser " Next thing I know, these will all be comic book heroes running around in capes. Or presidential candidates running for office. No wonder voter turn out is so low. Everyone expends all of their decision making capabilities in the soap aisle.

Several years ago, a friend convinced me to spend twice as much as I was comfortable with on a pair of sandals. She reasoned that with the way I wore shoes, it was worth it. She was right. I've worn those shoes every day possible since I purchased them. They went with me chasing after kids and dogs, they took me on mile after mile after mile of walks, I wore them to church and to work and to play. I used them to climb on reefs in Brazil, to tour the cruise ship on the Mediterranean, to walk to the amazing store that sold everything while in China. They carried me to each of the four hemispheres and back again. But, as with all things made by humankind, their time is coming to an end. And so with many deep breaths and mental preparation, I set out to find myself a replacement pair. And therein lies my great dilemma. As the internet is such a useful tool, I first searched there for where I might find twins for my worn out heroes. And woe upon woe! I come to find out that my m

I have a highly productive habit of taking a popular maxim and tearing it to pieces and then hitting it with a large stick and then dragging it behind a herd of horses for thirty miles. Several years ago I became angry at "Seize the day". I wrote a letter to the school paper and then I wrote a 28 page paper about how totally wrong that mentality is. Similarly, "Bloom where you are planted" has bugged me and made me kick small tables and chairs for years, but only tonight did I settle on why it is so onerous. Forget "blooming" I say just aim for photosynthesis and if you get a bloom, good on ya, but if you happen to be a carrot plant, you will be mighty frustrated if you think your purpose is to bloom and someone keeps harvesting your carrots before you can store up enough energy in your roots to do so. And so, dear readers, photosynthesize where you are planted. (Oh yeah, and keep in mind that you might be planted in a seed flat and may see many transiti

Here in the Slowlane we are so pleased to announce the exciting collaboration of Slowlane Labs and From the Kitchen of Slowlane . With the same quality which brought you Chicken Soup for Dummies (okay, so it never made it out of Drafts) we bring you Skin-E Cuisin-E (say it fast). Our goal with Skin-E Cuisin-E is really quite simple: To make healthy, inexpensive, appetizing meals which serve one person (with up to two meals of leftovers) without requiring more than four minutes of prep-time in the morning or 23 minutes of combined prep and cook time in the evening. Other considerations to keep in mind: limited fridge, freezer, counter, and pantry space and a selection of miscellaneous utensils which may or may not be available. By "quite simple" I mean practically impossible. But that is the kind of challenge we take on here in the Slowlane so that you, our loyal readers, don't have to. And observe! All of the meals we have discovered so far! 1. Microwave (barely b

I don't know very much about investing. And that is probably why I have been having so much difficulty lately. You see, I have a pair of shoes that I probably bought for $9.99 that I absolutely love. I guess you could say that they became "real" in the Velveteen Rabbit sense, but I didn't notice. It wasn't until my co-worker said "Those shoes look like you traveled the world in them" and I got half way through my list of countries where I had worn them that I realized that maybe I should consider them in a new light. And yes, they look like the skin horse. But I am almost positive that some quality time with a brown Sharpie marker will make them new again. But brown Sharpie markers aren't sold by themselves. You have to buy the pack of eight bold colors at $8.79. And even though my blue Sharpie marker turned the dryer into a Ferris Wheel, I really don't want to be burdened with an extra 7 markers than I need. (When your parking space is b

Today on my lunch break, in the 3 miles to my apartment and the 2 miles back to work (Ask me some other time about my new commute.) I passed five construction sites, and that isn't including the one I am working in. Ah yes, the one where I work... These days it seems best to begin the search for a restroom fifteen minutes before you might have need of one. Not only do you have to find one that is not currently occupied by workmen installing sinks, but you have to find the set of stairs that is not being carpeted to make your way to the functional bathroom. And then you hope and pray that no workman needs to enter while you are tucked away in a stall. Although, that might be an okay thing if it means the fancy schmancy light sensor will give you another two minutes before leaving you in the dark. Yesterday one of the upper management stopped by my desk to ask me what I thought of my new space. I, foolishly but truthfully said, "I don't know... it will take some getting

Because you asked ... Thoughts on Spring Spring is an illusive moment, some tentative place between winter and summer. Or so it seems to me, whose only experience of the classic four season year is the California variety that, for most years, includes a generous two week span of spring weather. And this year is no different. I will admit to some concern that I wouldn't see spring at all this year when January 1 saw me roasting at the beach. But when I caught sight of the first hint of green on the hillsides, I hardly dared breathe, for fear that the warm breath of air would turn it all brown again. The baby blades of grass, nosing their way up along my path nearly made me stop walking, just so that I would not crush them. It is so hard to imagine that these gentle sprouts will grow to be the same wicked weeds that tore at my skirts only months ago. And lo! The first glimpse of blossoms! Dare I stop to stroke one bud into bloom? If I turn my back, will it give up and wander to

Yesterday was eerie. What has happened to the smile? I spent most of yesterday in stores, catching up on needed (okay, okay, and a few unneeded) purchases, and I found smiles in short supply. Fellow shoppers concentrated on the product right in front of them, neither looking to the right or to the left until they could without making eye contact. I tried smiling the few times that I did make eye contact, but no smile was reflected back. Isn't that some law of physics? That a smile is contagious? And maybe that is the problem: no one wants to be catching something contagious from a perfect stranger. But finally, towards the end of my day, I smiled and I got a great big smile in return. Of course, she wanted to sell me make-up that would have cost me a day's wages, but I sold her a smile.

Yesterday, after a morning of energetic packing, my department took a lunch break. When we came back, I found my desk hanging way out into the work room. I couldn't figure out why anyone would move my desk and then just leave it there, and so I looked around to see who might be in the process of carting it out of the building. And then I realized. My desk hadn't been moved at all. Someone was removing the partitions that had formed my cubicle, and my desk had been hanging out into the work room the entire nine and a half months that I sat there. No wonder that there were so many days where I felt like I was trying to concentrate in an air-traffic control tower.

Today I was given one of the most valuable gifts in the world: Time. (Is it a coincidence that my watch stopped working two days ago?) But today, oh blessed of days, I was told that the next day of work was not until Wednesday. I get four Saturdays this week! Time is an odd specimen. Greater minds than mine have spent considerable effort discussing it. And time is one of those topics of conversation that everyone feels the need to remark on frequently and yet rarely appreciates someone else remarking on it. But if you will humor me this one post, then I will do my best to not bring up this topic for a long time. (But notice that I named this "Part 1" just in case I do decide to torment you further.) Today the organization I work for said good-bye to the home it has known for the last twenty-one years. That is nearly the entirety of how long this organization has existed, and an even greater percentage of my own lifetime. My 1600 hours in the cubicle of prime location