Southern California, as a region, is not widely renowned for the quality of its public transit. One thinks of the scene in Swingers:
EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - OUTSIDE THE CHATEAU MARMONT - NIGHT 46 The swingers have left the party and are heading to their cars. They are all parked in a row, one behind the other. They each climb behind the wheel of their own car. They pull out in UNISON. They travel like a train with their bumpers ALMOST TOUCHING.
But actually, in this little corner of Southern California, I can ride my convenient little bus to campus all the time. There is even an express route. It comes when it's supposed to, which is frequently. It's full, but usually not too full, of perfectly ordinary passengers who generally seem neither destitute nor insane.
Yesterday I was sitting next to a nice man who does asbestos abatement and mold removal. He was a butch sort of fellow who won my heart by saying dreamily, "Whenever I go in, you know, to start taking out the toxic stuff, I think that I am a doctor, a physician, and that the house is sick."
And mold and mildew, it turns out, are an excellent topic for generating about twenty minutes of friendly conversation, even without getting into discussions of IT'S MOLE, so we had a fine old time. The crazed and belligerent fellow passengers that Mimi Smartypants has encountered on her Chicago bus commutes over the years surely provide better anecdote fodder, but I'll happily take Mr. Mole Doctor instead.
Next week we are having an exciting adventure in serial single parenting. I don't think we are normally the kind of high-powered people who fly all over the place for work, but we are about to act as if we were. First Steve is going to San Francisco for three days while Jane and I stay home, then I turn right around and fly across the country first thing in the morning after he gets back. I at least will have some babysitting backup, because I cannot be on campus teaching (nor ON THE BUS) at the same time that I am watching the baby. Steve, though, is on his own.
Benefit to him: no need to worry about what happens if the backup falls through. (Hi, class! Don't mind this adorable infant strapped to me as you take your midterm!)
Obvious anti-benefit: all baby, all alone, all the time. And without even so much as a single tit to take the edge off.
Both of us: Extremely unlikely to eat a well-balanced meal with vegetables and things, for the duration? Yes. I am debating whether there is even any point in going grocery shopping this weekend.
But no, there is, because we need to buy more strawberries for Jane and her bottomless appetites. How unreal that there are perfectly ripe locally grown strawberries available for sale, here as we are at the end of January, for heaven's sake. They are not the tippy-top best strawberries you have ever had in your life, but really.
And that's what we've been up to. How about you?