Mr. Volvo

The other morning Tom and I were headed to work.  We have been riding together since Tom’s car was totaled, Halloween morning, by a young kid who ran a red light. Since then we have been a one car family. At first this was very difficult for me. Truth be told, I hated it. I liked my time in the car alone. I could drive in silence, listen to music, a book or a conference on CD. My choice. I usually used the time to think, take stock. With Tom in the car it wasn’t my space anymore. However, during some of our morning commutes we had great conversation, caught up on things with each other, or made plans for the evening or week. Sometimes it was really nice. I enjoyed our company. So both experiences were true for me.



Anyway, this particular morning, as we headed up Bigelow Blvd traffic began to slow. It was still moving but slower than usual. Ahead of us I noticed an older Volvo, changing lanes, speeding up only to have to brake because both lanes were moving slowly, and honking his horn. At one point he was waving his arms in the air above his head. I wondered who was steering his car. He was clearly upset. Being the well trained defensive driver(thank you Mr Anderson) that I am, I tried to determine what had Mr Volvo so upset. Was he seeing something dangerous I wasn’t aware of? My assessment of the situation was that everyone was going slower, but at a constant rate of speed. Odd for this stretch of the road, but not dangerous to me.


I commented to Tom, “This guy is really upset.” Continue Reading


I am baby-sitting my friends dog, Ruby, this week. Ruby is a love. She is a rescued dog, (always the best), goes to University of Pittsburgh each Tuesday as a therapy dog (for homesick freshman) and she lost a front leg to cancer last year. As I write this she is on the couch with me (don’t tell Tom) snoring. I love reaching over to rest my hand on her.

My dog, Jeff, died unexpectedly, last October. Tom and I had gone to NJ for the weekend to visit my mom who was in the hospital. My son, Landon, watched Jeff. He called that Friday night concerned, “Mom what’s wrong with Jeff?” He explained Jeff had fallen down and peeed himself. I had no idea what was wrong, but figured I would take him to the vet on Monday. Saturday morning the phone rang. Continue Reading