Home and that's good

The ride back from New York was interesting as I watched Connecticut drivers practicing moves from the good folks of Massachusetts. Yesterday, for example, they gave their turn signals the day off. Then, there was the motorcyclist who did a two-fer: not only did he drive in the breakdown lane at 80 while the rest of the traffic was doing 60, he also drove solo on the Diamond Lane, reserved for vehicles with two or more passengers.

Which reminds me. Last Sunday Sandra and I stopped at The Country Store in Petersham. The store is owned and operated by the Polus Center. It has a fine deli for sandwiches and ice cream, basic groceries, and lots of gifts, most hand-crafted. When we go in, we pass a bunch of motorcycles and folks wearing leather. They weren't, however, bikers in the common use of the word. They didn't have tattoos. They appeared to have all of their teeth.

In the store, one guy took off his jacket. Now, I'm not a fashion prude, at least not too much. Some things, nevertheless, are just wrong. A guy with the demeanor of an insurance salesman shouldn't be wearing a t-shirt that says, "Bad to the bone." It's like the Monty Python sketch where Michael Palin plays a chartered accountant who figures that he's ready make a career change to lion taming because he has a hat. "A hat with 'lion tamer' on it. I got it at Harrods."

So, I'm home, soon to be at work. We're looking at possible in the rear view mirror as we move through the stunning amount of work that needs to be done by tomorrow at 5. We'll deliver something, for varying values of something.

But, I'm home and that's good.

Happy Birthday, Sandra. The world joins in the celebration.