Prequel: Planning: I don't usually drive to cataloging meetings in the winter because coworker T., who rides with me, prefers not to ride with me. She has an SUV the size of a backhoe and doesn't like the view of the road from a Civic, and she's not too fond of my tendency to drive fast. And loose. So the plan was that she would pick me up at 8:10 for the 9:00 meeting.
Sunday (8 Feb.): the local Lutheran Church had a fire during the first service in the morning. It was caused by some wiring (?) in the organ loft, apparently. T's husband is a firefighter and was in the congregation at the time that the fire was discovered. He kept it under control with an extinguisher until the FD arrived and put it out. It was serious enough to require FD equipment and caused cancellation of the second service. T. told me about it on Monday morning.
Yesterday (9 Feb.): I was at work until 5:30. Around 5:00, I heard lots of FD sirens. That's not too rare since the department is only about 8 blocks away from the library. But there were lots of sirens and they were stopping too close for it to be a small thing. I went out from Technical Services into the public area and the staff and patrons were all grouped around the windows looking south - toward the church (which is on Main Street just off Ottawa St. - the library's at the corner of State and Main). Black smoke was pouring past us on a strong northeasterly wind. A rumor started quickly that the church was burning.
That was verified, unfortunately, when T. called me at home around 8:30. She actually called to say that she couldn't drive to the meeting. Imagine, the wife of a firefighter, taking the time to call a colleague at a time like that. She just wanted to be closer to home. But she had reason to be concerned, because two firefighters had been injured, one severely enough to be taken to a big city hospital. She sounded really shaken up on the phone. I tried to make sure that she knew that the meeting was not important at all, and that she shouldn't give it a second thought. There was no reason that I couldn't drive. She said she'd go to work, though. I said that she should do it only if she wanted or needed to be there. I know sometimes it's better to have something to do when you're upset, which she clearly was. She and her husband were married in that church, and both of her children were baptized there. And it was a total loss.
So I got up a little early this morning to get to the meeting on time. I think I've written before that I'm rarely on time. That's a lie. I haven't been on time yet this year. Seriously. Never. Yet. At all. The meeting was to start at 9:00, and big city's only 45 minutes away on a bad day when I take the back roads, so what kind of problem could there be if I left at 8:00, right?
I didn't get on the road until 8:10. And it was snowing lightly and blowing hard. No, not "hard", but like a son of a bitch. I was white-knuckled before I was on Old State Road, which is saying something because that's maybe 3 miles from home. Of course, I'd already passed one car well off the road in the ditch with a crumpled front-end by that point. And I was thinking, "I'm doing this for what? A cataloging meeting?! Is that worth injury or death?"
But I trundled on, making decent time, braced against the wind, listening to my lovely Alpine CD player. If you know me well, you know I like to make music mixes. This morning I was listening to "Fluffy Mix I", which I made for my Fabulous Fluffy, my partner in crime at work, my Collection Development teammate, the one who keeps me sane with a million telephone calls during the day at the perfect time to save me from the insanity that is our Head Melon. I was singing along to the music (which I had playing at a pounding volume) so I would "stay alert". What a fallacy. Anyway, the first song is "Breakfast at Tiffany's" by Deep Blue Something. I first heard the song on a "best of the 90s" pre-recorded mix disc that I bought from Target, but I really liked it.
"I see you, the only one who knew me
But now your eyes see through me
I guess I was wrong
So what now? It's plain to see we're over
I hate when things are over
When so much is left undone"
Moving on through Billy Idol, "Dancing With Myself", Hootie & the Blowfish "Hold My Hand", and then to the song that really made me think and brought tears to my eyes that could've caused a fatal accident if I weren't such a good driver (eh?)...
"I Knew You Were Waiting (for Me)" by George Michael with Aretha Franklin. Granted, it's not the typical thing someone might be listening to. And certainly not at that time of day. And not in those circumstances. But it was playing, and I was singing, and suddenly I was just nearly bawling. Lip quivering, temples clenching, this is what did it:
"Somehow I made it through the heartache
Yes I did, I escaped
I found my way out of the darkness,
Kept my faith (I know you did)
Kept my faith
- When the river was deep I didn't falter
When the mountain was high I still believed
When the valley was low It didn't stop me, no no
I knew you were waiting
I knew you were waiting for me
With an endless desire I kept on searching
Sure in time our eyes would meet
Like the bridge is on fire
- The hurt is over, one touch and you set me free
No, I don't regret a single moment
No I don't looking back
When I think of all those disappointments
I just laugh (I know you do), I just laugh...
...
So we were drawn together through destiny
I know this love we share was meant to be
I knew you were waiting ... for me"
I know that this sounds totally crazy, but I was thinking about that church, and faith, and belief of all kinds. What does "faith" mean? Does it mean being patient and strong, and knowing in your heart that it's going to work out? Or does faith mean getting off your ass and working until you're tired and sore and unsure, beating yourself up and making people crazy with your quest because you have to help yourself? Is there no one true, right answer? And if there isn't, how do you know which one is the right course? Neither can seem like the right thing to do. Being patient and sticking with it can seem much more wrong than actively changing something, doing something to change whatever one can. But what if that's wrong? What if it's better to just move, to just do it, even if action seems scary and the future seems uncertain?
Yargh. This is what I was wrestling with when I should've been paying attention to the road. I was following a plow and being tailgated by pickups and SUVs. I was in the middle of nowhere (relatively), headed toward a meeting I didn't want to attend.
It stopped snowing around 72, not too far into my trip. That's the good part. The bad part = blowing & drifting. There was snow everywhere on the road. I passed a car completely overturned. (Cops were there already.) I was freaked out and just wanted to go home. When I was on CV Road, which was pretty clear of snow, I was passing a semi. Well, I started to, and then my car slipped out of 3rd gear when I was about 1/3 of the way past the truck. My hands were cold and clammy and I must've not pushed the lever in far enough. I panicked and only just managed to keep my head. It was awful.
Jeez, this story is getting long. I got to headquarters at 9:02, got into the meeting around 9:10. Walked in, saw that there were a few open chairs at the far end of the table (of course). Planned to take the first one I saw, but there was a coat on it. Took the next one, adjacent to James. He smelled like pee. I was also next to a woman I didn't recognize who was wearing HUGE eyeglasses.
That's when I saw him. The cutie. He looked up from the prodigious amount of notes he was taking, smiled, and sort of blushed. His head looked like he'd been through a buzz-saw - nasty haircut (dull scissors?) and a really bad shave (by a kindergartener?). Bandaids! On his face! But an adorable smile and the most beautiful eyes. And blushes. Maybe I spend too much time reading, but I think it's amazing and lovely when a man blushes. He'd take some notes (he writes as fast as I do, which is impressive - my former physical therapist called me "the human laser printer") and then sort of glance my way, and when he saw that I was looking at him he'd color slightly and look away. And then look back - classic bar flirting material. Damn. Took me back to the Banger's Pub days. Mmmmmmm.
Anyway, the damned meeting. Fucking stupid. Packing all those idiots in one room surely kills the brain cells of the rest of us. Shall I identify them by name?
J = Stinky Pee Man = Obstinate Ass
G-male = Oblividude
G2 = Ponytail Man = unclefuckingcocksuckingassfucker = condescending son of a bitch
P = the most blatantly, purposefully, unrepentantly stupid person
J = lookin' smarter every day
J2 = Grasping for Credit Gal = hopelessly lost in the serials module ("Have You Seen Me? If so, attach to a serials record only.")
G-female = cranky little woman who I like more and more every time I see her or talk to her. Goddamn, do I want to be G-female someday. Having others as afraid of me as others are of her would be fabu.
I can only wonder what they all think of me. Dare I hope the little cutie is? Dreamy. I just hope it's not while he's shaving. If today's any indication of his skills, he could be killed in the process.
