Unwilling to speak

Sometimes, in the morning (especially on Mondays when it starts to rain just as you get out of the car), I am completely non-verbal.

That's all I'm saying.

My car is smarter than me

I'm pretty sure my car is smarter than me. For example, last night it had the presence of mind to keep me from getting killed on the rainy streets. I took a curve a bit too fast and I felt the car slip and slide a little and then right itself. Not sure if the dynamic traction control actually kicked in, but I'm pretty sure the car was being more responsible than I was.

But sometimes my car tries to tell me things I don't understand. Like tonight, on the way home, it started chiming and flashing a little snowflake on its dashboard interface. It was 36 degrees out, so I assume it wasn't a freeze warning. Who knows? I guess it's time to read the owner's manual. Plus, I've been driving around for week now with my clock running an hour fast because I don't know how to set it. I wish the car would speak to me about that, or just handle it like it did the wet streets.

In a similar development, I was talking to a friend yesterday who, like my car, is smarter than me. I like that about him. I like that sometimes he says things--and they're not necessarily about rocket science or brain surgery, but just stuff about life or what he's feeling--that I don't immediately understand.

Usually when that happens, it's a foreshadowing of some life lesson I have yet to learn. There's a distant recognition that this is important, but until I think about it really hard or just reach a point where I've had some new, relevant experience, I won't really grasp what he's saying.

One of the best things my friends do for me is challenge my thinking by honestly sharing their own thoughts and experiences. It may sound ridiculously obvious, but sometimes the point is much more subtle. Sometimes you really have to listen to carefully and have an open heart. It's easy to judge someone else or try to fit them into the pattern you've already defined for them, but sometimes people can be endlessly surprising. And I do like surprises.

Even though I had a bit of a hangover today, I had another hike even better than last week's. We had brunch at this fantastic newish place. As a matter of fact, I had lunch there for the first time yesterday. Then Jo and I drove out to the state park again, this time armed with maps, so we found the right entrance to the big lake.

Had a great hike, three miles in and then back-tracking the same way. The end point was an old log shelter built I don't know when--the plaque says 1937 but I think it's more recent--that sits up on a rise above hardwood forest and the river plains. Unlike last week's hike, which was a lot of steep up and down, this was mostly winding trails through cypress bottomlands. Many more leaves were down this week, and those left on the trees were uniformly yellow. The lake looked cold and peaceful as ever, just as I remembered it from childhood.

Watery

I started Monday morning off right -- by almost getting killed twice on my way to work. What is it about the rain that prompts people to become even more vehicularly aggressive than usual?

So I made it to work and braved the 10-minute walk in the rain. Apparently, my wool pants have super water-repelling power, because I brushed off the tiny beads of mist easily when I finally got inside.

Had a good weekend. Jo and I planned to go hiking Saturday at the nearby state park that runs along the river. Our ETA was 1 pm. We got there around 2, then spent an hour getting incredibly lost. I guess I go there less often than I think, and I always end up taking the same wrong turns.

This time, though, I went unusually far afield. We drove on narrow, winding roads past cotton fields and monstrously huge threshers cutting down the last of some spent crop. Eventually we made it to the river landing where you can look out over the Mississippi. There were some vintage car enthusiasts gathered around. I've never seen so many tailfins together. I remembered going to the river landing before because of its most distinct feature -- the bullet-riddled speed limit signs.

After backtracking and making at least one additional wrong turn, we arrived at the visitor center and checked out the map. We took one road, doubled back and then another. We never did make it to the big lake, but by 3 we were glad just to find a trailhead with 1, 3 or 4-mile loops. On the trail itself, we found a paper map, dropped by some good soul who knew we needed it more than anyone. Great hike with some very steep hills and a little path through rushes. We vowed to come back in a few weeks and find the lake.

Good weekend, but I have to admit to a bit of funky restlessness. Reason 1: having to stay inside and work when it's beautiful outside and/or having to stay inside and work when it's nasty outside and I'd rather be in my cozy bed. Reason 2: I'm impatient about some of the uncertainties floating around in my life. I've been keeping the light touch with them for a while, but sometimes you just don't want to wait around anymore. How's that for specific?