Bah!

Bah! That’s my sound for pure frustration. I’m not a morning person. I’ve documented my trials with being an morning person. It just never pans out. So now that we have an alarm clock, a.k.a. Willow, I have to be up whenever she deems necessary. Most mornings it’s just before my alarm goes off around 6:00 a.m. This morning it was 5:30 a.m. I tried everything to ignore it, including burying my head beneath pillows in an ostrich like fashion. After 10 minutes of constant barking, I crawled out of bed, got dressed for the crisp morning air, and stumbled down the stairs. My eyes were so tired that my glasses seemed clouded.
A blurry Willow was enthusiastically wagging her tail in the hopes that I would release her playtime and breakfast. She’s too adorable, even at 5:45 a.m. to be mad at. She barreled out of her cage right into me asking only for attention. I managed to get her leash on and we went out for her morning potty break. The grass was frosted over which caused much displeasure for Willow’s little paws. As she bolted for the back slider I struggled to catch up. Our normal routine began once we were in the kitchen.
I spend the next hour feeding her, playing with her, and making sure she doesn’t tear up the furniture. At 7:00 a.m. I am supposed to be relieved by my husband so that I can get ready for work. He’d already been up once to let her out around 4:00 a.m. So I don’t blame him for wanting to stay in bed as long as possible. This morning he stayed in bed a little too long. Now he put behind schedule. I was able to get in the shower close to 7:10 a.m. I rushed around the house getting ready, running from room to room to try and make up a minute or two.
At 8:00 a.m. I knew I was going to miss the 8:07 a.m. train. One minute later I was in the car speeding out of the driveway. When I passed the police station I was much more conscious of my speed. I hit the third red light concerned that I might now miss the 8:14 a.m. train. After backing into my usual parking spot I grabbed my bookbag and lunch, locked the door, and ran for the train.
Normally it’s about a 7 minute walk from the car to the platform. It was now 8:08 a.m. And there was no sign of the 8:07. When I reached the platform at 8:12 a.m. The 8:07 was pulling away. If only I didn’t spend two minutes searching for my blackberry. At 8:14 the annoying “ding” could be heard over the train loudspeakers, and the mechanical sounding recording followed it. “Attention at Stratford, the 8:14 train to New York will be arriving 5 minutes late. On the bright side, I hadn’t missed the train, however, I was definitely going to be late to work.
When the 8:14 finally pulled in, I sauntered to an open pair of seats and got comfortable. At Bridgeport the train picked up the chattiest passengers. This is what really go me aggrivated. Go ahead, talk to your neighbor, but must the whole train be privvy to your conversation. When we picked up passengers in Fairfield this woman insisted on squeezing in next to me. Perhaps none of the open rows of seats around us were to her liking. All I kept thinking was can I just be left alone?
When we pulled into Stamford station, I had finally accepted that my day was not going as planned, and that I should work with the craziness rather then against it. So we'll see how the day goes.

BMW Ultimate Drive

Who knew it could be so much fun to support a charity. Well of course it should be fun and meaningful any time you donate time or money to a charity, but today was super special. A coworker who had been diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago, who is a survivor, was honored at the BMW Ultimate Drive support Sunsan G. Komen for the Cure. I am not very close to this coworker, but she is still very inspiring. She and another coworker coordinated a running team for the Fairfield Half Marathon and 5K. This typical athletic event held so much more meaning for this team because they were running for the cure. The Pink Ribbon Runners were made of 30 family members, friends and coworkers, and they all participated in her honor. This special woman, after only months of recovery participated in the 5k. That is strength.
Today we went to the Greenwich BMW to see the CT affiliate of Susan G. Komen honor Laura, and she looked amazing. A picture of her had been placed on silver BMW that had been signed by honorees across the country. She signed beneath her picture commemorating the moment. Part of this ceremony was a fundraising event for Sunsan G. Komen for the Cure. There special Susan G. Komen BMWs that could be test driven. For each mile that a car was driven, BMW will donate $1 to Susan G. Komen. The opportunity to drive any model BMW, at no cost, without obligation, is awesome. It’s an excellent cross-promotion.
My car of choice? An M3, but there were no openings. So instead I went with the Z4 manual, and took it for a 12 mile ride. After going two years without driving a standard, I was terrified that I would make a huge ass out of myself. My coworker and navigator, Dorrie, wasn’t too fearful of the whiplash. The young BMW rep gave us the run down while I fired questions at him about the car. One useful piece of information, the car’s clutch had been replaced 4 times. In my head I was hoping not to be the cause of a fifth replacement. The rep chided kindly that my stilettos would make shifting a little tricky. I love how men always think it must be so tricky to walk in a woman’s shoes. Perhaps if we were speaking figuratively.
The rep presumed I wouldn’t be able to find reverse in the car. I humored him and then reversed the out of the spot. Let me correct that. I skillfully backed out of the spot, and promptly stalled while shifting to first. So much for the skillful part, and so much for my ego. Once I turned the key, and successfully drove a few feet in first gear, I decided to zip out of the parking lot. A quick cover to salvage what was left of my ego. Yes sometimes women are just like men. This could have been more embarrassing if a BMW rep was in the car.
Once out of the road Dorrie was very kind and said her neck didn’t hurt too much. In truth I had been pretty rough on the car when transitioning gears. I got the hang of it after a few miles and decided to open her up a bit. Perhaps I should have paid a little more attention, because instead of putting the car from second to third, I went right to first. Nothing like going from 35 to 15 without using the break. Once we were on the merit (and back in the proper gear) I got it to fourth, and because of my earlier experience, I was terrified to shift into fifth. Dorrie, also nervous, said she preferred not to eat dashboard. So we hovered around 65, without really opening it up. Of course I made it successfully off the highway, but I was sad that I hadn’t gotten it to the highest gear. I wimped out on getting to 6th.
Back at the dealership I maneuvered into the parking spot, with much more confidence. What a great way to spend an midweek afternoon.