"The map can't be wrong. It's the map."

Hee.

Which reminds me . . .

Visiting Pepe and Julio with Hubby and Tony in Tony's New Subaru

"Your new car manual says this is an all-road vehicle, not an all-terrain vehicle."

"This is a road--"

"Watch the boulder!"

"Hey, I can see the curve of the earth from up here! Look, through that gap in the mountains I can see Salt Lake City!"

"Were those sheep?"

"Look, sheepherder wagons. Who would live up here on the face of a mountain all summer?"

"Pepe and Julio, the Basque shepherds, living their lonely lives in the Utah mountains, far above the cares of civilization."

"Brace yourselves! Major washout in the road! God, I love this car."

"They are so going to void your warranty."

"If I'm on a road, I've got a warranty. If it's on a map, it's a road. We just have to find the right map."

Thanks for the chuckle, connie. I was afraid the last line wouldn't come across as funny. The original punch line was "Of course there's a road, it's right here on the map," but that got buried by needing more dialogue to show his focus on the theoretical over the real -- and most of that got cut, anyway. I thought about cutting the exposition to make room, but I like the set-up too much, it's my connection to both the original real event and the political metaphor.

I usually nit-pick and cut and tweak and over-think these things to the point that I never post them. This time I just said "What the hell...." and did it.

I keep thinking of Twister - yes, I loved that stupid flick, because big! ass! tornadoes! make me happy, so long as I'm nowhere near them - and Phillip Seymour Hoffman yelling at his rookie stormchaser buddy: "Don't fold the maps! Why is there a crease right through the middle of South Dakota? ROLL the MAPS!"

All of those were great.

This is making me remember a few weeks ago, when my dad was driving me back to DC, a route we've driven dozens of times. Somehow got onto the wrong road, and in trying to get back to the right one, we found what appeared to be some topologically impossible roads -- as far as we could tell, after driving around the alleged intersection (the map said these roads intersect!) a zillion times, then finally finding a different way to get onto the road we wanted and driving past the intersection with the one we'd just been on, we could only conclude that NJ 49 intersects NJ 47, but NJ 47 does not intersect NJ 49.

we could only conclude that NJ 49 intersects NJ 47, but NJ 47 does not intersect NJ 49.

Works for me.

We've all of us at this post noticed a phenomenon. Your first day or two here, you'll be out doing area fam, getting to know your neighborhood, and you'll visit a store or taverna or restaurant. Something easily identifiable. (Ours was a triangular-shaped grocery store named "5th Something.") Then you won't be able to find your way home. You'll ask directions, and people will say, "It's right there!" like you are nuts. "Next street over." But you can't get there. Either you take a taxi or spend hours, but you make it home.

In the next 3 years, you will never be able to find that store or taverna or restaurant again.

In the next 3 years, you will never be able to find that store or taverna or restaurant again.

Which is named "Shottle Bop"

This one's a little dark...

Connect the Dots

Look, a brand new game!

First thing you do is, count the dots. Make it as amusing as possible, keep yourself from freaking as the doctor interprets the MRI results.

"Two lesions on the cerebral cortex..."

"Right." Mentally, you're scoring your first points by drawing a line between the lesions.

"This one's worrying - on the corpus collosum."

She points, nine times total. In your head, you connect the dots of disease. Every one is another shot at an early death.

This is the map of your brain. This is the map of your brain on a lightboard.

Any questions?

Ouch, deb. That's a kicker.

Hypervigilence 101

There’s only one map that is important to me. I carry it around in my head. This map changes with every new house, apartment, barracks or room I’ve ever been in. It’s created within days of moving into a new place. Turn off the lights, take off my glasses, close my eyes, it doesn’t matter. Today, without counting my steps out loud, I know how many stairs from the loft to the first floor. From the stairs to the end of the hall by the front door. No matter what, I have a map to freedom from the fear within.

Wow. Very strong.