Twas The Day After Christmas, or Everything's Broken

Hello, and I hope you all had a merry holiday.

Let's go back aways, though.

As you all know, or should, I've been suffering the "broken" syndrome around Betland. I have a blog with broken archive links and the inability to accept comments. I've now had that for over two weeks. And I must admit to you, with the Christmas rush and all, I haven't been working very dilligently on correcting this. I was going to, I was going to post some more messages on that ol' google troubleshooting page, because I got quite a shock last week when I was informed by my dad, well, by way of a hint, "Boy, all I hope is that I get some more of your blogs for Christmas." And that sent a panic through me because I knew that meant recording new stuff and re-recording old stuff and taking out all the "fuck"s, and that with no archives, that would be an impossibility. I told this to Dad, said my archives were broken and his chances of getting recorded material from me were trim at the moment.

However, fortune, in the way of my net maven Stennie, smiled upon me, and she showed me a way to go in through the back door (so to speak) to where I could gain access to my archives, even though you can't push a link button and get them yourselves. So that problem was solved, and with it being the holidays I figured no one would be commenting anyway, and so I never did post those messages to the troubleshooting page. But they're still broken, and I know I have to try and do something about that.

I also realized last week, when driving to Winston-Salem (over the Pee Dee River) and to B'burg the next day, that something else seemed to be broken. The "logical thought" section of my brain. The "illogical thought" section still works very nicely, thanks.

This is because in my trips to these two towns, well, I didn't seem to be doing very well. Although I can't say I'm overly familiar with all the ins and outs of Winston-Salem, I know how to get there, take all the right turnoffs to get to the mall and other places I like to go, and I generally have a fine old time. Well, I used to, anyway.

This time around, I got lost no fewer than six, yes, count them, I know you won't, times on my little foray south. If there was a wrong turn, I took it. If there was an exit, I missed it. I ended up in "Old Salem," in the smack flat-ass downtown section, in the left lane when I was supposed to be in the right, and everything else you can imagine. It was a complete embarrassment, and I'm glad I was alone. In fact, after my whole lack of success in shopping there, I'd had plans to head right from Winston to B'burg to see if I could do any better, but I got lost so many times that all the stores would have been closed by the time I got there. So I just came on home, or at least headed that way hoping somehow I'd find it, and decided to take another day of my vacation traveling to B'burg to finish up the shopping.

The next day I headed east, and knew the first stop I had to make was in downtown B'burg, to pick up something my sister wanted me to get for her to give to her husband. She told me exactly which shop, what the item was, where it was in the store, and how much it cost. I made that my first mission and first stop, and found a parking spot and headed to the store.

I walked in and went to the spot. The item wasn't there. I looked and browsed, and couldn't find this item anywhere. Finally I went to the "last resort," and asked an employee about the item, and she - lead me back to the original spot, where the items were all stacked neatly where they were supposed to be. "Yes, they're right here," she said, cheerfully. "Now, did you need orange or maroon?"

Panic.

"Oh, gosh. I don't know. Orange? Maybe orange. I think. Orange. No, wait." And then, for the first time in weeks, my brain actually decided to turn itself on, and I had something of an epiphany. "Oh, wait! I still have the note she wrote for me in my car. Hang on, let me go get it, I promise I'll be right back." And so I walked back to my car, found the note in and amongst an abandoned potato chip bag and 27 CDs, and read it. "Maroon," it said. And so I went back and picked up the item, along with a few Hokie stocking stuffers, and was on my way again.

(By the way, it was a good thing I'd kept that note, because I couldn't have called my sister on my broken cell phone.)

So, that task completed, I headed out to my next stop. It was a very specific store, where I needed something for my dad. I'd looked on the internet to make sure there was one of these stores in the area, and there was, and it even gave me the address. Market Street. That was vaguely familiar, it was in C'burg, the next town over from B'burg, and it's a rather small town, and so I knew I'd have no problems.

And so I headed over to C'burg, and spent the next hour and 45 minutes driving every street in the town, multiple times, looking for Market St. I was in the town, out of the town, past the town on Route 8 into the country, past it the other way on I-81 into the next city.

While I was traversing Depot St for about the 24th time, it hit me, and all I could do was giggle. "My God. I am just a fool in a car," I said to myself, glad again I was alone, because all of a sudden it had come to me that not only did I know where Market St was, but that I also knew exactly where this store was. I could see it right in my head. Turns out Market St is in the huge section of the Betty Bet Bet Inspirational Highway where the mall and all the big shopping is. I never even considered this possibility, because for some weird reason, I still consider that B'burg and not C'burg. To me, C'burg is the little downtown area and nothing else.

So I headed back, found the store, purchased the item, and was on my way.

I did some good shopping, and came home with only two presents left to buy. And I had one day of my vacation left.

Now, I knew what I wanted one of these presents to be. A very specific pair of shoes my mom likes, and I'd looked all over the place for the style and size for her, with no luck. The other present, well, it was for my sister, and I was stumped for an idea save for one thing. Another pair of shoes, one she'd talked about that I knew would both surprise her and make her happy, and no matter what else I tried to think of for her, nothing satisfied my broken mind like getting her those shoes. Those shoes were in A'don, the town 2 hours to the west of me, where I had jury duty (or was rejected for such) earlier in the month. I didn't know if I could get Mom's shoes there, but I thought I might have a good chance of that.

So on Friday, the last day of my vacation, I called the store in A'don just to make sure they had the right size in the style I was looking for for the sister, and they did, and I said, "Hang on to them, I'll be there in two hours or so." (Remember that "or so.") And just on a lark, I decided to go on the way to a store here in town in a last-ditch effort to find my mom's style, and lo and behold, I did. Yes, I'd looked everywhere in a 150-mile radius for them, but had forgotten to look in my own town. I guess that would have been too easy.

I then headed west for my two-hour trip to A'don. I figured, OK, zip there, buy shoes, zip back, then it was to pack up and head to B'burg (I drive a lot, you know) to have Christmas with Mr M. And that's what I started out doing, till I got about 8 miles outside A'don.

Now, by way of background, this is still Rt 460, but not the Betty Bet Bet Inspirational Highway, because that's only the part of 460 from B'field to B'burg. It's a four-lane road, but outside of A'don there's been some construction work going on, they're finally getting around to replacing two decrepit bridges, and so one bridge is torn down and there's a long section of detoured road turned into two lanes. Traffic moves slowly there, but it's been going on for about 6 months and I was expecting it.

What I wasn't expecting, however, is that traffic in my lane would come to a complete halt. Which it did. And now, you have to understand what I mean when I say "complete halt." It wasn't "inch, inch, inch," or "wait, inch, wait, inch." It was "put your car in park and turn off the engine."

It's very difficult to explain what comes next. Because, well, we all have our unnatural fears, and if it's not your fear, I could talk about this till I'm blue in the face and it wouldn't mean a thing to you. The best I can hope for is that you read ahead and try sticking whatever unnatural fear you may have in place of mine and let the good times roll. I got stuck in this unmoving "put your car in park and turn off the engine" traffic - on the old decrepit bridge. And came face to face with my biggest driving fear.

I can't explain this, I'm sure it all has to do with how I don't handle heights well, and the fact that I can remember vividly back in the 60s news footage of when the Point Pleasant Bridge collapsed and cars fell off it into the chasm below. I mean, I can be stuck in a tunnel or right over a set of railroad tracks and sing and dance all day long, but a bridge? You may as well suspend me from the Empire State Building by a shoestring during a hurricane.

But there I was, hopelessly stuck on that bridge. No forward, backward, u-turn, or side of the road. And see, the lane in the opposite direction seemed to be moving just fine, and cars were coming at me, and tractor trailers, and coal truck after coal truck, and as they crossed the bridge it would sway and bounce, shaking my car and bouncing my ass an inch off the seat. And I'm afraid, my friends, I did not handle this very well.

It all started with a few ewwws and eeeeeees, as I was still hoping we were just the stopped side of a two-way "stop and change lanes" procedure, but when it became apparent this wasn't the case, I started getting a little more worked up. And finally, when a gasoline tanker crossing the bridge shook my bottle of water from the seat to the floor, I lost it. I began to cry, I began to scream. I prayed, I invoked names of saints, I beat my leg, I beat my window. I am a person who last year lost her steering wheel while moving at 65 mph, and I handled that like it happened every day. I guess this is because my steering wheel-less car didn't limp to a halt on a bridge.

And all the while, traffic just kept coming in the opposite direction. It would let up a bit, when surely I thought a few cars ahead of me would go around whatever had us stopped and I could inch forward enough to at least get off this damn bridge, but it was not to be. I couldn't see the beginning of the traffic line ahead of me, nor the end of the line behind me.

I'm not sure exactly how I did it, but I finally got myself calmed down enough that I wasn't screaming or crying anymore, though I did still have the death grip on my steering wheel and parking brake, and I spent the rest of my time while stopped methodically breathing in and out, blowing my breaths out like I was in labor, and I know you won't believe me, but I'll tell you this and it's the God's honest truth. I was stopped, unmoving, on that bridge, for 2 hours and 5 minutes. I to this day don't know what caused the stoppage, because once we started to move I saw not a worker, piece of equipment, piece of road wreckage, policeman, or anything else. Traffic just immediately sped to 55 mph again, and it was like nothing had ever happened. I think someone just decided our lane was not to move, and it was time for me to face my biggest fear so they could see my reaction. I hope they didn't, and again, I'm glad I was alone, because I have to tell you people, I was a mess.

I got to A'don, in the 2-hour trip that took over 4 hours, walked in, bought my item, a five minute transaction, headed out to fill a very tired podmobile2 up with gas, and came home. Came home via I-81 and I-77, because I didn't care how much longer it was, I wasn't going to take the old route back under any circumstances. Turns out it wasn't much longer at all, and I got home, packed my stuff, and headed back out immediately to B'burg and Mr M's.

Where I got my nicest surprise of the Christmas season. Mr M had bought me an ipod for Christmas! Yes, I'm now not the last person to own one, and I have myself planted firmly in the 21st century. He'd never given the first hint he was doing this, and those are the best kind of surprises, and I couldn't wait to get home and start playing with it.

However, that was going to have to wait. Because when I got home Saturday I had to wrap gifts (I hadn't wrapped the first one), and set about the task of trying to record blogs for my dad. The waiting was difficult for me, and almost as difficult for Mr M, who kept messaging me to ask me if I'd played with Mr Pod yet, and I was hoping he didn't think I just didn't care enough to tear into it at once, which I promise you all I wanted to, I just knew if I did that I'd never be able to tear myself back away, and Christmas would come and go without me.

Now, Friday when I got home from the hell that was going to A'don, I thought I'd call the folks to let them know I was home and heading out again. I had no phone. I picked up every phone in my house, and none of them had a dial tone. So along with a broken cell phone, I also found myself with a broken real phone. Having no phone doesn't really bother me that much, because I'm not that fond of the phone, but it sure seems to bother the people who want to call me, especially, you guessed it, my parents. And also especially, with Christmas on its way and family plans brewing.

So what were to be my days of solitude, quiet reflection, and Christmas wrapping became days of having the doorbell ring every hour and finding one or both of my parents on the other side of the door, staring at me, telling me whatever piece of news they'd thought of but couldn't phone to tell me.

But, believe it or not, even with my broken brain, broken phones, and broken blog, I got everything wrapped, some baking done, some blogs recorded, made it around to all the family members' shindigs, Christmas came and went with me, and a good time was had by all. And glory of glories, I still had today off to recuperate.

I was blissfully asleep this morning and was awakened by an odd sound. It was the sound of someone knocking on my bedroom window. Then I heard the voice of my mother. I crawled out of bed and fumbled around for my pajama pants, and before I could even pick them up, heard the doorbell ringing. I opened the door, and there was Granny, and I swear I couldn't help myself, and in my sleepiness, the first words out of my mouth were, "Jeeesus Christ." She looked like she was in a panicked worry, and said, "Are you OK? The phone man was here and called us and said he couldn't rouse you, and we were afriad something was wrong!" (We'd called the phone people from their phone on Sunday. Mr Phone was to appear Wednesday to check things out.)

"He wasn't supposed to be here till tomorrow!" I said, a little more than crankily, and my mom kept saying they were worried about me and finding all kinds of euphemisms for "we thought you were dead," and although I probably looked a lot like death there in my pajamas, she finally got the idea that I was indeed alive but surly, and she went back home.

So I made some coffee and decided I may as well go ahead and get up, so I pulled on some clothes and started the happy task I was going to spend today on (besides cleaning the living room), playing with my ipod.

I'd been a little worried about it all because the thing only came with quick start instructions, which were all pictures, and didn't go into any vivid details. But I plugged it in, it loaded up, and I was listening to music and navigating around in no time. I was a happy little ipod-owning girl. Then I realized that it had loaded things from my library I didn't need, and left out things I wanted, and I was going to have to think instead of just putting a plug in a hole. Thank God for the ipod tutorial on iTunes.

It showed me exactly what to do, and I spent about two hours getting my songs exactly like I wanted. Then, with Mr Pod still plugged in, I went to the artists, picked out a random song, and began to play it. It played five seconds of the song and, well, got stuck. I navigated around, but it wouldn't move, to any menu. I unplugged it and plugged it back in, and iTunes was now refusing to recognize it as being plugged in.

I'd broken my ipod.

I was not panicked but "frustratedly perplexed," and Mr M gave me the ipod troubleshooting webpage, which I went to and did as it said, and again, lo and behold, that worked. It did indeed change screens, but the new screen was not illuminated, had a flashing circle with a slash through it, and said, "Do not disconnect." And nothing would move it from that screen, and iTunes still wasn't recognizing it.

I'd broken my ipod for the second time.

Mr M, who has little patience and at the same time the patience of a saint, told me to go ahead and disconnect it, he did that all the time and it hasn't hurt his pod any, and so I warily did it, and voila. It was back on, fully charged, and playing just like God intended.

Now, while all this was going on, while my ipod was being broken twice and while I was writing this longest of long blogs, my phone rang. It was Mr Phone, telling me that they got one of my phone lines working (oddly enough, the one I was speaking on), but the other two were not, and could he come back out now and have a look. Since I was not asleep, sans pajama pants, not presumed dead, and not nearly so surly, I said sure, come on over.

He did, and spent almost two hours here, on his head and in places I'd rather he didn't go, and couldn't get anything working. He informed me he needed to go into the crawlspace, which filled me with a fair amount of dread, because I knew that meant I had to go outside and open it up for him. (My dad fixed an elaborate locking door system on it.)

(By the way, the running joke around here is that since their move to the Pod, the crawlspace is where Peabody now keeps the WABAC. When I informed Mr M via messenger that Mr Phone wanted to go down there, his reply was a very cute, "He'd better be careful. He could push one wrong switch and find himself sailing the sea with Captain Kidd.")

One opened door and some downstairs rumbling later, and nothing's fixed. Mr Phone has to come back. At least I have the one working phone, and won't have to travel to the parents', have them travel here, or buy a few pigeons and teach them to home.

The cell phone? Don't really care, I never use it anyway, leave it unused so long the battery has to be replaced. The archive links and comments? Do care, don't know if they'll ever be fixed, but plan tonight on posting messages to see if any kind blogger employee might see them. Ipod? Up and running, till the next time it gets stuck, when I'll have enough people around me to tell me what to do.

I'm really starting to miss my brain, though. I'm a little worried it might be unrepairable.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* My Christmas present from Sherman? Well, say hello to a new boarder here living at the Pod. Quick Draw McGraw has now officially moved in.