Transportation

A WALK IN THE WOODS: A SYMBOLIC JOURNEY WITH PICTURES – Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 7 Comments

There used to be a game we played. Not so much a game as a mental imaging exercise. I originally heard it in the 1960s when I was in college. I was told it wasn’t psychology, but rather drew on symbolism, images out of mythology and folklore. And, of course, our subconscious.

If you feel inclined, come along with me. The meanings, to the degree I understand them, are at the bottom of the page after the photo gallery. I’m pretty sure if you Google this, you’ll find other versions.

1. Imagine you are going to take a walk in the woods. What kind of day is it (sunny, cloudy, raining, warm, cold, summer, winter, autumn, spring)? It can be anything, whatever you see.

2. There is a path ahead of you. Describe the path (open and clear, full of rocks and other hazards, overgrown, etc.).

3. What is the woods like? Pine? Oak? Lots of shrubs? Does the sun filter through the trees??

4. As you walk along the path, you see a structure. What is it? It can be any kind of structure — house, shed, ruin, church, modern — anything. Describe it, please. Does anybody live there? Are they home? Do you go inside? How do you feel about the place?

5. Now it’s time to leave the house. You are back on the path and you come to a body of water. What kind of water (stream, river, ocean, lake, puddle, creek, swamp, etc.). You need to get to the other side. How do you cross the water? (Let your imagination roam free!)

6. Having crossed the water, you rejoin the path. As you stroll or stride along the path, you look down and see a cup. What does it look like? Do you pick it up? Keep it or not?

7. Further down the path, you spy a bear. What is the bear doing? What do you do about the bear?

8. You have passed the bear and you have walked a distance until you come to a wall. What does the wall look like? Can you see over it? Do you know (or can you see) what is on the other side of the wall?

What it means? This is what I learned. If you know another interpretation, you are welcome to tell me about it. I’ve been trying to find out the source of the “walk” for a very long time. Most of my adult life, actually.

1. The walk is life and the day is how you see life — dark or bright, shadowy or sunny. All that you see is part of your vision of life. Whether or not there are obstacles in the path or the path is clear are also parts of it. The nature of the woods is also descriptive of how you see life.

Little house and big maple tree

2. The structure is your childhood. Many people see a storybook house, gingerbread or the woodsman’s cottage out of Hansel and Gretel. Some people find it terrifying. Some people go inside and don’t want to leave.

3. The body of water indicates how you feel about the challenges in your life. The body of water can be just a puddle you step across or an ocean that requires you conjure up an ocean liner to cross. It can be deep and dark, scary or someplace lovely into which you want to wade or swim. How difficult (or easy) it is to cross the water talks about how you feel about overcoming obstacles you {did, are, will} face.

4. The bear equals responsibility. Some people run, others freeze. Some people make friends with the bear and it accompanies them for the rest of the walk. It’s all in your imagination and there are no limits.

5. The wall is death. The most common things to see on the other side are a beautiful mansion (heaven?) … more forest (reincarnation or just a continuation?) … the ocean … One guy saw a burning forest (ouch). What you see is what you see and it may not be what you expect.

I have done this several times at different ages and stages of my life. My answers were different each time, reflecting my current self and shows development. What little I know of this and its origins makes me suspect it was created during the 1800s.

I hope you enjoyed your stroll.

OUR END OF SUMMER – BY ELLIN CURLEY

/ Ellin Curley / 7 Comments

Summer has a different meaning to Tom and me than it does to most people. We are boaters, so to us, summer simply means ‘boating season’ and it lasts for six months. We start getting our boat ready to go into the water in late March or early April. It’s still chilly and there are no leaves on the trees, but for us, ‘summer’ is starting and our mindset shifts from land to sea.

Similarly, our boat isn’t taken out of the water till November 15. So despite the falling of the leaves as well as the thermometer, and even after daylight savings makes it dark before 5 PM, we still cling to the concept of summer because our boat is still afloat. We often spend time on it when it is mild in October and November, which has been often the past few years.

Our boat, Serenity.

On November 5 this year, we emptied all the food off the boat and in a few days it will be ready for its shrink-wrapped hibernation in the parking lot of the marina. So our summer has finally ended and we’re prepared for our landlocked existence for the next half a year.

Our life is quite different when the boat is the focus of our life and when it’s not. Once the boat is in the water and ready for its close-up, all our social life takes place on the boat – rain or shine. We recently built a lovely patio outside our kitchen but no one ever gets to see it except Tom, because the grill is out there. We never have dinners or parties on our patio when the weather is conducive because we’re always on the boat during these warmer months.

The living room on our boat

We love taking guests on our boat for a ride but often the weather doesn’t cooperate and our friends just hang out with us at the dock (which is quite lovely). We have entertained on board through thunderstorms, pouring rain, gusting winds, and extreme heat and cold. We almost never move the party to the house because of the weather.

During boating season we only travel on the boat. We take short trips (under two hours) to other marinas nearby and stay one or two nights. We also take longer trips to the Connecticut River, Montauk, Block Island, and even Martha’s Vineyard, and live on the boat for a week or more with the dogs. We usually get on a plane only when there’s no boat to travel on. And then we go visit our daughter in LA, friends in Portland, Oregon, and Disneyworld in Florida. Next April we’ll be going to London for ten days. The exception is when we plan a big trip to Europe which only makes sense for us in spring or fall when the weather is great but it’s not prime tourist season so it’s not too crowded.

Dining area on the boat

Another difference in our lives when the boat is in or out of the water is how much ‘together’ time Tom and I spend. Whenever he can, Tom will spend the afternoon on the boat rather than at home. He has the same TV and video games set up in both places and the same Wifi service. So he’d rather be looking out at the water than the woods.

I usually choose to stay home during the week except when the weather is ideal, so Tom and I spend a lot of time apart for six months of the year. The rest of the year we’re in the same house most of the time. I think this bifurcated system works well for us since it dilutes the time we share in the same living space and makes us appreciate being together when we are.

Boat kitchen

So now we are finally transitioning into ‘winter’ mode. We’ll start lighting fires and having friends over to the house. Tom will immediately start pining for the next boating season. On the other hand, I’m a homebody and I don’t mind the cold (I have lots of sweaters) so I’m just as happy with my ‘winter’ existence as I am with my water-based life. Variety is the spice of life!

So welcome to winter and toasted marshmallows!

DERAILING ARE US – Marilyn Armstrong

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FOWC with Fandango — Yes! We Derail!

I moved to Massachusetts in 1988, one year after returning from Israel. Garry and I already had a “thing” and I thought he would collapse from exhaustion if he kept driving back and forth every weekend or two from Boston to Long Island.

With the help of friends (bless you), I found a good job not far from Boston. It was the 1980s and Massachusetts was blooming with high-tech companies, all of which would soon move out to the west coast. But for one decade, Massachusetts had full employment and great salaries. We were very optimistic.

I lived on my own for a year, then bought a small condo in Lynn (big mistake, but to be fair, everyone believed the area was going to improve) … until G.E. closed and put everyone out of work.

South Station 2016

Garry and I got more serious, so I rented my little condo and Garry and I got a beautiful place on the Charles River just a few blocks from Channel 7. Not close to where I worked, but at least I was commuting the wrong way. Now, there IS no wrong way. Commuters go every which way.

Inside South Station

I thought I could take the train to work … but I had irregular hours and getting to the station to get the train was not simple and required at least one bus and the underground. So I drove. I owned one of the original Hyundais. It had a huge engine — 48 liters! I bought it with a manual transmission. Even so, to get it to move you had to open a door and push with your foot. I’m pretty sure one of our small dogs could have beat it on flat ground and do even better up a hill!

I moved in with Garry and in the course of a year, we agreed to marry. He had never married. I was a two-time loser. Well, really, a one-time loser and a one-time giver-upper. For the first couple of years in Boston, we had very little snow. I was surprised but Garry just smirked. He knew it would be back. It always came back.

South station 1929

That was when I discovered that the trains in Boston derail when you look at them cross-eyed. This is because no mayor or other legal body had ever been willing to spend the money to fix the trains. Every year, the rails would freeze, the trains would derail, every commuter in Boston would complain loudly and Garry and his TV cohorts would cover the same story. Again.

South Station 1905

That was more than 30 years ago. No one has fixed the trains. No one has replaced the tracks. Except these days, the rails are so bad that the trains derail all year round. You don’t need to wait for snow. They derail and crash anyway. We don’t have those modern software packages that warn trains of other oncoming trains or bad rails or ice on the tracks.

Every year, they hire a new transportation manager and fire him or her in the spring. Because everyone is cross and angry about the trains not running. In 2019, the run a lot worse than they did in 1988 and although in theory, they are trying to fix (some of) them, they have left them to disintegrate for so long, it will take a huge amount of money and time to get them to work like “real” trains.

Derail? That’s the nickname for our transport system.

And tank trap is the nickname for the roads the cars use.

WHERE’S THE BUS STOP? Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 15 Comments

This is the kind of normal question that anyone might ask in any town anywhere. Except if you ask it here, the responder will look at you quizzically. Because honest Abraham of Civil War fame, we don’t have any public transportation in this town.

If you need to go somewhere, you have a choice.

You can walk. You can hop on your bike, assuming it isn’t the middle of winter with roads full of snow and ice and you’re still young enough to do it. You can saddle up your horse (or hitch up the buggy) … or jump in whatever vehicle you own.

That’s it. I’m told that way back before we were living anywhere, they used to have a bus. I would certainly not object to having a mini-bus so old folks — like me — could get into town without having a driver. So far, no go, but I live in hope.

No Uber. No Lyft. No taxi. Nothing unless you drive. There are train tracks, but the trains don’t stop here and anyway, they are all freight trains, not for passengers.

We have tracks, but lack trains

Most people don’t take their horses to town, but it has happened. It makes the horses nervous, though and carrying back the groceries can be a bit clumsy. So mostly, it’s feet, trucks, and cars. We’re about 3-1/2 miles out of the village and we are definitely past hoofing it.

This is casket truck. Everyone needs a traveling casket, right?

Or maybe something smaller?

Public transportation isn’t part of the rural lifestyle. At some point, the trains did stop here. I only know it because we have a converted train station that’s now a real estate office. But once upon a time, it was an actual passenger station.

Does a school bus count?

School bus, in town. I think you need to be attending a local school to get a lift!

Photo: Garry Armstrong

OVER AND OVER AND OVER – Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 23 Comments

FOWC with Fandango — Over

I have always loved flying.

I never went sky-diving (Garry did and I envied him … and wondered how in the world he managed to actually jump out of that plane into the air), but I did go gliding. Twice. I loved flying in small planes and I was lucky enough to have two good friends who flew and took me with them. One of them got permission to fly very close to the ground so I could fly 500 feet over my house and wave to my flowers.

I discovered that when you fly in a small airplane, no matter how hot it is on the ground, at 10,000 feet, you really wish you were wearing insulated shoes. I learned I was too short to see over the dashboard of a Cessna, so if I took up flying, I would have to do it entirely using instruments.

I got to be “co-pilot” on all these little flights and discovered my main job was to “look for airplanes.” With all the technology involved in flying, planes, especially small planes without flight plans, hit each other.

Photo: Garry Armstrong

When you are looking for other planes, you have to look up, and to both sides. I couldn’t look down. I was too short but I discovered the world had more directions than I ever imagined.

Photo: Garry Armstrong

My cousin Roberta lived in northern Virginia, right outside of DC. From when I was 9 or maybe 10, I used to fly there and back. Alone. That was before they made you wear special badges or anything. You just got on the plane, sat in your seat. Up in the air and half an hour later, descending again. Seeing tiny people get bigger and bigger until they were full-sized and the plane bumped to a stop.

Watching all those cars travel at high speeds through the most astonishingly complex intersections and mostly, don’t hit each other. It’s like an enormous dance done on the roads.

When Garry and I were courting, I hadn’t yet gotten a job in Massachusetts. Most weekends, Garry drove to New York and stayed with me, but sometimes, he’d buy me a ticket. I’d fly from La Guardia to Logan. Once, I was due in at 6 pm. We took off a little late and minutes later, the plane was hit by lightning. Twice. There was only one working engine.

Nobody talked. We just listened to silence, followed by the wail of the engine as it lifted the plane. One of the passengers was a pilot, probably going home to Boston. Everyone watched him, holding our collective breaths, wondering if we were going to land or crash.

We landed. Garry picked me up and started to complain I was late and he’d had to circle the airport a dozen times waiting for my plane to show up. I pointed out that I wasn’t sure I was going to get there alive, so he should be saying “Oh glory, you’re here and alive!” and after that, he fed me lobster for three days straight. I deserved every piece of lobster, not to mention one fabulous North End Italian dinner.

Photo: Garry Armstrong –

I don’t know exactly when the fun went out of flying. When airports went from being inconvenient and ugly and became houses of torment. When airline seats went from being small to being torturous. When all the little niceties of flying disappeared and then they wonder why people try not to fly if they have any other choice.

Unfortunately, our rail infrastructure has been neither maintained nor expanded. For example, you can’t take a train from Boston to Arizona. There are many areas where the tracks are not functional. Not only can you not take the train from point A to point C, but you have to detrain with all your luggage, take a bus, get another train which may or may not have the same seats or type of seats … all while juggling your luggage. You may need to do this several times and it will take days rather than hours.

I was still willing to give it a try until I read the notice that the train would not provide assistance with transferring luggage. I gave up.

Photo: Garry Armstrong

So if you are traveling a long distance, unless you are still young enough to like driving all day — and there was a time when I thought driving was fun — you can fly or stay home. Given one thing and another, we stay home. Mostly.

It doesn’t mean we’ll never fly again. I think now that Garry can hear better, we might fly somewhere, sometime, someday. England or Australia or New Zealand or the south of France. Paris or Tokyo. Who knows?

Meanwhile, a dozen or more Chickadees have discovered our bird feeder and they fly up and over and around it.

BEAM ME SOMEWHERE! – Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 35 Comments

As airlines make traveling by air increasingly miserable, unfriendly, and physically uncomfortable, those of us who yearn to travel but abhor airports and airplanes have been waiting for teleportation.

You know. “Scotty, beam me up” and off you go to another place. It might be earth. It might be an outer planet in another galaxy. It might be … well … the bar in Star Wars of that cool one in Second Generation! Who the hell knows? And who really cares?

Although I foresee a limit on luggage, I’m sure I could work with that. They are making gigantic strides in travel clothing every day!

Warning, though. This is one of the many things we won’t be able to do unless we vote very Blue this November and remove the Orange Menace from the White House. Anyone who feels we need a wall at the Mexican border isn’t going to allow teleportation for just anyone from anywhere to anywhere else.

Certainly, I can’t imagine his nibs allowing ALIENS beaming into the land of the free and the home of the cringing, whining, terrified white people who voted for Orange Peel. If you think brown, red, yellow, or beige people whose native language isn’t English are out to get you, what will you do with a creature with tentacles who loves drinking grout cleaner?

What a bunch of dumbasses. We could own the universe, but instead, we prefer being locked up behind our own walls lest we feel potentially threatened by people who are different than us. And mind you, there is really not a bit of difference between us and the other colors and styles of people. We are all exactly the same, genetically.

Obviously, there are individual differences. Smarter, dumber, more creative, more athletic, totally clumsy — but nothing that you won’t see in any group of people who all have the same coloring or background. Skin and its variations have no effect on intelligence or ability to understand the meaning of the universe.

You know that, right? Nor does not speaking English. Mr. Nobel was Swedish. He didn’t speak American. Einstein was an immigrant. Sam Adams made beer and fomented revolution … and I’m not sure where he was from. Ireland? Scotland? England? Germany? The whole world? And anyway, we are all from Africa because that’s where humanity began. Check it out.

But wait! Orange Gecko won’t be in charge forever! He’s too old! Unless we’ve also invented the no-aging device, he’s going to bite the big one just like the rest of us.

Get those transporter beams revved up. I’m ready!

Let’s open up the world while I’m can still enjoy it. We will take our elderly tricycles and electric wheelchairs with us. Surely they have sidewalks on Betelgeuse.

Let’s transform our cellular material and go with the flow. You ready? I’m definitely ready!

For today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt of Teleport.

TRAIN TRACKS IN BLACK & WHITE – Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 20 Comments
Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Trains and Tracks

Boston has many trains. Commuter trains as well as trains to DC. Florida, and other places. More interestingly, it has trolleys: small trains that run through several towns used by local commuters.

Everyone loves them because unless the standard commuter trains, the trolleys run on time. It’s your job as a car driver to get out of the way when they come!

Trolley tracks in Boston streets

X – Crossing the tracks

Grafton train tracks

GARRY ARMSTRONG HITS THE ROAD – CEE’S WHICH WAY PHOTO CHALLENGE

/ Garry Armstrong / 7 Comments
Cee’s Which Way Photo Challenge

Somewhere in Uxbridge

The lonely motorcyclist

Just when Marilyn thought I’d given up photography, having not picked up a camera since the great storms of March, I surprised her and took the camera with me today. It was a good road day, too.

Watch your speed!

Passing the cop shop

Before the day was over, I was in and out of five separate valley towns.

I call him “The Lawn Whisperer”

Gardener at work

Starting in Uxbridge, I went through Mendon to Milford. From Milford back through Mendon and Uxbridge to Whitinsville and the Super Walmart. From there down into Douglas, then back up and finally, home.

But I got a lot done and in the end, that feels pretty good.

PHOTO A WEEK: PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION? Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 20 Comments
A Photo a Week Challenge: Public Transportation

Honest Abraham of Civil War fame, we ain’t got no public transportation in this town.

You have a choice:

1 – Feet
2 – Bicycle
3 – Car or truck
4 – Horse.

We have tracks, but lack trains

Most people don’t take their horses to town, but it has happened. It makes the horses nervous, though and carrying back the groceries is a bit clumsy. So mostly, it’s feet and car. We’re about 3-1/2 miles out of the village and we are definitely past hoofing it.

This is casket truck. Everyone needs a traveling casket, right?

Or maybe something smaller?

Public transportation isn’t part of the rural lifestyle. I hear rumors that, until the early 1960s, we had buses in Uxbridge! Imagine that! And the trains stopped too. I know this because we have a train station — now a real estate office — but once upon a time, it was a train for people.

Does a school bus count?

School bus, in town. I think you need to be attending a local school to get a lift!

Photo: Garry Armstrong

HAUL AWAY, LADS, HAUL AWAY!

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 18 Comments

Except, we are driving. To Connecticut. It’s just two hours and a bit from here, so it isn’t exactly crossing the ocean with the pigs and the chickens and lord knows what else in the belly of the boat.

It’s still our version of hauling. 

Me, I’m just stuck with “but what do I need to wear?” The weather sucks and it’s supposed to snow and rain and wind the cold and nasty through the middle of next week, which definitely limits my “shoe” options to Uggs outside, socks inside.

Garry wanted to know if he will need to “dress up” which these days, means not wearing his stretchy pants and for me, means wearing clothing that matches.

Photo: Garry Armstrong
Photo: Garry Armstrong
Kayaking on the Blackstone River
Yellow kayak on the Blackstone

We have come a long way from our sparkling days of “dressing for the office” when Garry was quite the man of fashion and I didn’t look half-bad either. I did get my eyebrows waxed and Garry assured me that they are the most wonderful eyebrows he has ever seen.

We’ll be away for a few days. It’s been slow here anyway, so I’m sure you’ll all survive without me until next Tuesday. I’ve got stuff scheduled too — and most of it is new and hopefully, funny  —  but I don’t know how much time we will have to comment and chat. I’m expecting a busy weekend.

Meanwhile, no ants in the kitchen this morning. Yay poison!

From our chilly, windy, and soon to be snowing April in New England, here’s to all of you. Hoping before the month is out, we are having weather more like “spring” and less like “winter.”

Happy trails and may you haul and all power to you!

JOURNEYS

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 9 Comments

Nothing goes exactly as planned.

No vacation is perfect. Some part of every meal will not be ready when the rest of the dishes are served. Guests come early or late, leave too soon — or not soon enough. Complications, delays, bumps in the road are the companions to everything.

Then there are the things that almost happen. When I was recently back from Israel, I took a three-day weekend from my new job to visit friends in San Diego. I bought a new weekend carry-on bag. It’s still my favorite travel bag — and the bag was the best part of the trip.

I bought tickets to San Diego — not easy because most cross-country flights out of Boston go to Oakland, SF, or LA — none of which are close to San Diego.

I got to La Guardia airport, but the departing flight never arrived. After my connecting flight in Salt Lake City departed, there was nowhere for me to go. I asked for my money back. The perky young thing at the ticket counter explained, “These are non-refundable tickets. See? It says so right here. We can get you on a flight to Los Angeles tomorrow afternoon. How’s that?”

I was not feeling perky. “I took a three-day weekend from work. I won’t get those hours back. I’m not interested in Los Angeles or anything that goes anywhere tomorrow. LA is more than 3 hours drive from San Diego and I don’t have a car. By the time I get there — if I got there — I’d have to turn immediately around and come back. I’ve had to spend money on taxis and lost my holiday time. All I’ve gotten in return is a long afternoon in an airport waiting room. If you can’t get me to San Diego today — direct and nonstop — return my money.”

I got my money back. After which I took a taxi home. I spent the weekend having a mini-orgy of self-pity. I never went to San Diego. Eventually, I lost touch with those friends and life moved on.

Our fondest illusion is control, the belief we’re in charge or at least, ought to be. We spend a staggering amount of effort trying to wrestle life into our own shape. How else can we succeed? You’ve got to be in charge, right?

The promise we get as children is one on which we build a world.

No matter what you want, no matter how unlikely it is or how unqualified you are, just try harder and you will get it.

It’s the biggest lie because it establishes a fundamental belief that if we do all the right stuff, we will get what we want.

It’s got to be true because our teachers, parents — pretty much everyone — told us so. Good work will be rewarded immediately. Kindness will be returned in kind. If we eat right, keep fit, avoid drugs, cigarettes, and booze, we’ll be healthy. Forever. All the stuff that happens to other people will not happen to us because we are special. Mom said so. Dad said so. My sixth-grade teacher said so. My IQ test says so.

From all the little stuff that goes wrong — flights cancelled, vacations rained out, to failed marriages and jobs lost, life and time strips us of the illusions with which we grew up. Injustice shows itself in an infinite variety of shapes and sizes, from tiny indignities to incomprehensible calamities. No one is immune. We learn we are passengers on the bus we call life. We aren’t driving and don’t even know what road we’re on. Nor have we any idea of the destination or the stops along the way.

Finally, I got it. The bus is going where it’s going, but outside, it’s beautiful. We don’t have to drive. We don’t need to control the bus. Where we are going is irrelevant.

It’s about the journey.

 

A STORY SURE TO BECOME FUNNY

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 14 Comments
Yesterday’s story today

No one should be surprised to hear there was no oil delivery. This is that kind of story. You know, the one where you wait all day for something, but it doesn’t happen? Everyone goes through this, but it never stops being very annoying. Frustrating. Lucky for me, I didn’t wait until we are down to the final few gallons before I requested delivery — so we aren’t going to run out of oil.

Yet.

According to the company, the truck didn’t come because the driver said it was “too icy.” He said he had called us and we weren’t home. Except, he didn’t call. Maybe he dialed the wrong number, but I was extremely in and breathing heavily while waiting for the phone to ring.

We’ve been working with this same company, same trucks, for 18 years. They have delivered oil to us during much worse weather, when the driveway was significantly more icy. I have to assume they hired a particularly wussy driver. Okay, being fair, we have an awful driveway. It came with the house. If there was one thing I could replace in this house, the driveway would be it.

Nonetheless, the driveway is not bad right now. I can easily walk up and down it and we can drive on it without using 4-wheel drive — with no hint of sliding.

And anyway, there’s no choice. We need oil because we heat with oil.

No oil? No heat.

It has been below zero every night for several days, so this is a bad time to refuse to deliver.

We pay for a delivery service. This means I pay for oil every month, including in the summer when we use very little. We have built up a hefty chunk of money in the company’s accounts to cover routine maintenance, any repairs we might need — and oil. There’s always more than enough money in the account. So I was forced to explain they are going to deliver oil, or we are going to have to find someone else to do it.

It’s not what I want to do, but either they deliver or they return our money so we can find someone who can deliver. There’s no shortage of oil delivery services, but I’d prefer to stay with people we know, as long as the people we know can do the job. If they can’t do it, they aren’t giving us a choice.

I much prefer staying with familiar people, but — what do you do with an oil company who can’t or won’t deliver oil?

I hope we get this sorted out today. I hate when simple stuff gets complicated. There are plenty of real complexities to life. This should not be one.

NO WAY OUT

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 23 Comments

Follow the yellow brick road? No crossing! Turn left, turn right, run in circles! Put your left foot in, then take you right foot out …

Sometimes, the road signs, especially around Boston are impossible to understand, much less follow. You can make a left unless that second light under the main light is blinking yellow. Or red. And a blinking green light isn’t really green, nor is a blinking red one necessarily a stop sign. Boston is also the only town that has post scripts on parking signs.

PARKING ALLOWED

Except on Wednesday between 4 pm and 6 pm;
Or on any day the Bruins or the Celtics are playing;
Or if there’s snow, or the street cleaners are working.

X means railroad crossing