I am not getting far this morning, nor fast. I am not furious about that, though wary of the first storm of winter which is bearing down on us- I should therefore get to the farm today while the getting is good, and probably take the Police Cruiser rather than the Hubrismobile, though of course it should be exercised to keep the fluids circulated and the battery charged.
I spent a quiet evening, though not as quiet as I had intended. It was going to be a discretion-is-the-better-part-of-valor New Years Eve, but got complicated.
I got a call from Old Jim indicating that he and his bride Mary were going to walk from their abode the four hundred steps to Willow and have a couple drinks to commemorate the Eve of the New Year. I sighed. I had agreed to do exactly that on Friday.
Adrenaline had been oozing out of my pores from the miles from Michigan and the blizzard of last-minute minutia to successfully complete the year-end paperwork to re-finance the condo and end the agonizing high-interest under-water hemorrhage of cash. I agreed with Jim that a drink that going out on New Years Eve was a good idea.
I concluded yesterday that the drive and emotional roller coaster just completed mitigated for a quiet night in- that, and Jim’s intelligence that the restaurant already had reservations for 300. Who needs the noise? Too many amateurs at the bar and on the roads, and too much opportunity to meet targeted law enforcement.
I had no desire for mischance, and just as I was pouring a stiff stay-at-home drink, the call came from Jim, and burdened with previous ill-advised commitment, I ventured out.
There is something very strange happening in Arlington, and I have marveled at it. Development has continued apace here, ignoring the economic collapse of places elsewhere, and the County has commenced an aggressive campaign to empower pedestrians in the high-rise developments along the Metro’s Orange Line. Accordingly, bold cross walks have been painted on the blacktop, and stern warnings about the pedestrian’s status as supreme holder of the right-of-way. That and the new bike lanes, filled with maniacs who have no fear and no desire to lose a single knot of groundspeed.
With the new businesses opening, young walkers have become emboldened to the point that they do no see a need to actually use the crosswalks, nor actually pay attention to the lights on the major arterials. I see both sides of the issue.
I normally walk to Willow from the office in the early darkness this time of year. Fairfax Drive at rush hour, packed with hurtling self-important Type-A motorists, is a daunting prospect to one on foot, whether you actually enjoy the status of being the privileged vessel or not.
Anyway, I thought as I suddenly saw a couple in dark clothing in my diminishing peripheral night vision in my diminishing peripheral night vision, that this was indeed the height of counter-productive government. People should be afraid of cars. Very afraid.
I actually had an encounter a few weeks ago leaving Willow. Traffic was stopped due to a red light a block away, and I ventured across the crosswalk in the motionless field of vehicles. As I crossed the last of the four lanes, a young man in a BMW pulled his car directly over the white stripes in front of me.
There ensued a dialogue at high decibel levels. The verbal exchange culminated in the astonishing assertion “Do you know who I am?” from the driver’s side of the finely-crafted German machine,.
There was only one possible rejoinder: “I don’t care who you are, Asshole, you are in the crosswalk.”
Anyway, I completed the remainder of the short drive to the restaurant without incident, though I should have brought my lanyard with the office badge and magnetic parking token and parked at the office.
Old Jim and Mary were at apex of the Amen Corner. Mary was enjoying the crab cakes, which looked and smelled superb, and a couple civilian ladies of a certain age were enjoying the early evening with heritage salads and Kate Jansen’s wonderful signature flatbreads.
Tinkerbell, Liz-with-an-S, Katya and Jasper were holding down the business side of the bar, and we got visits from Deborah the Willow Ops boss and executive chef and co-owner Tracy O’Grady herself.
Despite the minor travail of the voyage to get there, the appearance was well worth the effort, and made the evening a commemoration of a lost year.
We did not stay late, and I was back, safe and sound, before the tide of New Year began to roar towards culmination. It was a brief time for contemplative thoughts. 2011 sucked. On every front, I am nearly overcome with stress and uncertainty.
There is the debacle of Congress and the great national and international issues of the economy, and the disastrous crony capitalism that followed the Bush miscalculation on the unholy three-some of Wall Street and Fannie and Freddie’s intimacy.
I have taken on the responsibility of the finances for Mom and Dad, and their physical conditions are train-wrecks in progress, sparking difficult travel driven not by common sense and the weather, but by whatever the crisis de jour might be. I finch when I hear the cell-phone ring and shudder when I see the northwest Michigan area code appear on the caller ID.
Adding to the anxiety is the seasonal weather. The National Weather Service is promising the first real fun of the new year with “winter storm warnings for several states near the Great Lakes, and an area west of Washington D.C. Parts of Michigan will be smacked with snow, sleet and rain along with strong winds, starting tomorrow.”
“Pennsylvania, Indiana, Minnesota and Wisconsin near the Great Lakes are in the mix as well, completely shutting the door to the Little Village By the Bay. “In addition to the snowfall, wind gusts over 35 mph will be common through Monday, resulting in considerable blowing and drifting snow and blizzard conditions at times, especially downwind of Lake Michigan,” says the National Weather Service. Poor driving conditions were expected as “visibilities will drop to near zero at times within heavier snow showers.”
“Travel very hazardous or impossible,” is the baleful warning.
The NWS also warned that 8 to 14 inches of snow, “with locally higher amounts, could hit an area covering parts of Maryland, West Virginia and Virginia.”
The storm warning commences here at 0100 on Monday, so I behooves me to get down and check the mail before travel is curtailed. I am dreading a call from the Northland that Raven has fallen again, one of which came yesterday to inform me that Raven had been found prostrate near his chair in the dining room at The Bluffs..
Sooner or later there will be something more urgent, and I expect sooner.
Have a great day in this bold New Year. I hope it is a little better than the last one, though I am expecting it will have its challenges. The Euro cannot stay intact, the world economy could fall apart, and conflict over oil and sanctions could drive a military confrontation with Iran.
Oh, it has an election, too, from what I hear. Might be an interesting year.
Copyright 2012 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com