Changing Lanes

I recognize that I talk at great length about the trials and tribulations of driving in downtown Salt Lake City. My… feelings about bicycles have been discussed at length (see here, for example), and I recognize that snow = bad driving regardless of where I find myself in the US of A. But the one thing I have never, ever understood about my adopted homeland is the city’s insistence on doing all of its roadwork not only during the summer months, but at the exact same time.

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It rhymes with clusterbuck.

In the past three weeks, I have shifted my daily drive to work four times, four times, because of road work, construction, or (get this) painting the roadway. Now I get that it’s my tax dollars at work, and that the summer is the natural time to do roadwork, and I should be happy about investments in infrastructure, etc. But honestly, do we need to tie up every city arterial for the same two weeks in August. Every. Single. Year? What are those dudes in the orange vests making more money than I ever will flipping a sign distractedly while listening to a iPod do for the other fifty weeks of the year?


Whenever I see them with it, I have a strong urge to yell “HAMMER TIME.”

As the summer begins to give way (blessedly) to the fall, I recognize that this inconvenience is coming to a close shortly. I just wish that the city and county would think for a hot second about spreading the pain across the summer so that there are a few small irritations throughout the season instead of two weeks of frustrating gridlock. Which also always coincides with whatever viral pop hit happens to be on every radio channel known to man.


I just met you. And this is craz…. STOP.

Now that I’ve made the slog home, I plan on cooking some food and finishing my potentially overdue library book before watching tv and calling it a day. And don’t worry, the BLERG will engage in some more controversial subjects tomorrow. Like the aborted school shooting in California that the media is barely covering. And potentially a treatise on why I think Israel and Palestine need to figure out a way to coexist without daily explosions.

Until next time, stay classy (and try to use the HOV lane) Salt Lake.

Return of the Living BLERG

Where. The hell. Has it been. W H E R E?!

Don’t think I haven’t heard you. I’ve gotten a few FB messages about my lack of writing lately. I’ve had friends leave nasty voicemails asking where the hell I’ve been for the last few weeks, on the brick I call a cell phone. Hell, Kandyland actually called my work line just to make sure I was still alive, and then after receiving confirmation that I was breathing, followed up with, “and why haven’t you blogged lately?”

Get it?! I’m such a nerd. And I can’t math. Go figure.

The past few weeks have been stupid crazy. Not just crazy. Stupid crazy. I submitted a $2.4M grant that I worked on for a non-profit down south, which has eaten up most of my evenings and weekends all month. And no, I technically don’t write grants anymore. Figure that one out. Between that, hanging with Davey before he moves away for ages, and trying to keep the house from falling apart at the seams, it’s been all I could do lately to make sure I had brushed my teeth and showered daily. And let’s not talk about cleaning the shower.

It’s like the Blue Lagoon in there, without Brooke Shields.

Trust that things will improve. I’ve missed writing something fierce, as all of my mojo has been spent proving to the feds that poor kids deserve more access to Head Start. And while I’m slowly digging out of a pile at work the size of Mount Rushmore, I am blessedly caught up on laundry and I’ve gotten to actually cook a decent amount so I’m set food-wise for a bit.

I want to eat all of it. All. Of. It.

Between the crises in Iraq, Sudan, Afghanistan, and the Ebola outbreak, it seems that in my absence the entire East Hemisphere has lost its mind. Then there’s the Ferguson situation, the great gay marriage debate, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict that never ends, and I’ve got loads of things to comment on. But for now, I’ll keep it brief.

I wish I had been cool enough to make this.

Stay tuned this week as I catch up on the daily news, casual musings, and my silly attempts at finding the humor in the macabre. Until next time (and I promise next time will be very, very soon), stay classy Salt Lake.

My Best Friend’s Wedding

As the last weekend of July and first weekend of August came to a close (where the hell did the time go?), I spent my last hurrah of travel for the summer (thank goodness) in San Diego watching one of my best friends marry her dream boat of a husband. There was amazing cake, pretty flowers, a little rain, and a lot of tears.

I know. I’m a baby. Deal with it.

While I may be strapped for time, I had to post about this weekend because it was lovely. I got to see old friends that I hadn’t seen in forever. I got to hang out with my parents, who were “touched” by the wedding bug and as is requisite kept after me about securing my own husband. And I got to meet and become friends with the Melinogis family. Or Melingoni… If that’s a thing.

I am assured that it is, in fact, a thing. Just like the illuminati!

Ali was gorgeous, the ceremony beat the rain (hallelujer), and we had a blast. And I’m excited to see them start off as their own family as Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn-ingonis. Or Meling-aughn. Or something. In the meantime, I now get to stare down the bullet of the gun that is the grant I am contracting on, which will put me in a position where I have little, if any, free time for the next 10 days or so.

This is my list of things other than the grant. Plan accordingly.

To the newlyweds, be happy, Mazel Tov, Opa, etc. Love you both like I love my luggage. Until next time, stay classy (and happy!) Salt Lake.