OK, so, this morning it took me a half hour to drive to work, thanks to JenA's brilliant directions to take the highway right by our house rather than driving to the other highway which is busier and further away from our house. Saved me 15 minutes and several miles.
Upon arriving at work, I calculated the cost of using the Dallas Fort Worth area's mass transit options instead of driving. There's a rail station right by the house that would take me to downtown Dallas. I would then have to transfer from the Trinity Railway Express to the DART light rail system to travel uptown.
You'd think the Dallas and Fort Worth folks could collaborate to use one freaking light rail system rather than two that only connect in one horribly inconvenient location, but you would be wrong.
So, from downtown, I would take DART uptown to City Place Station. This would put me exactly 1.5 miles from my office. I would take a bus from City Place to the corner of Oak Lawn and Herschel where I work. And all this would take me 1.5 hours.
Granted it would save me money over driving once I figure in the cost of gas, maintaining my car, tires, oil changes, etc. In fact, the difference in cost is pretty substantial if I were to take the various mass transit options every day. BUT, I'd have to be traveling for 1.5 hours rather than 30 minutes and I'd be stuck without a car if news of a standoff broke in Plano. What to do, what to do.
30 April 2008
29 April 2008
Open Letter to all drivers
Dear everyone,
I'm really just as angry about gas prices as you are. It now costs me $50 to fill up my little hatchback. It's a freaking Volkswagen Rabbit, for crying out loud. My car is fairly fuel efficient and gets around 33 miles to the gallon on the highway. Unfortunately, even if I only drive to and from work once a day, I still must fill up once a week because I live in freaking Dallas where no one believes in Communist mass transit. So, $50 per week. Eff you, big oil. And Dubya. Harumph.
Er, wait just one minute. I suppose getting mad at the gas prices doesn't do any good, does it? I mean, the gas companies don't set the price of oil. OPEC's actions determine the price of oil, friends, and that means despite what a delightfully easy target the oil companies are, it's not really their fault. They just follow the lead of oil-producing countries like Venezuela, Iran, Saudi Arabia. Countries we all know love us to pieces. Ahem. Sarcasm, cough cough. Countries which limit their oil production to keep prices from dropping like crazy. It's business, folks. Supply and demand. In this case, demand determines supply.
Hence, the solution is not to burn down Exxon Mobil. The solution is to use less. Consuming less limits demand for oil. If everyone did it, the price of oil would drop because demand for it had dropped. Duh.
Also, I guess it would probably help to acknowledge that we did go to Iraq to protect our interests. The primary interest being the availability of oil. IJS.
Love,
Katy
I'm really just as angry about gas prices as you are. It now costs me $50 to fill up my little hatchback. It's a freaking Volkswagen Rabbit, for crying out loud. My car is fairly fuel efficient and gets around 33 miles to the gallon on the highway. Unfortunately, even if I only drive to and from work once a day, I still must fill up once a week because I live in freaking Dallas where no one believes in Communist mass transit. So, $50 per week. Eff you, big oil. And Dubya. Harumph.
Er, wait just one minute. I suppose getting mad at the gas prices doesn't do any good, does it? I mean, the gas companies don't set the price of oil. OPEC's actions determine the price of oil, friends, and that means despite what a delightfully easy target the oil companies are, it's not really their fault. They just follow the lead of oil-producing countries like Venezuela, Iran, Saudi Arabia. Countries we all know love us to pieces. Ahem. Sarcasm, cough cough. Countries which limit their oil production to keep prices from dropping like crazy. It's business, folks. Supply and demand. In this case, demand determines supply.
Hence, the solution is not to burn down Exxon Mobil. The solution is to use less. Consuming less limits demand for oil. If everyone did it, the price of oil would drop because demand for it had dropped. Duh.
Also, I guess it would probably help to acknowledge that we did go to Iraq to protect our interests. The primary interest being the availability of oil. IJS.
Love,
Katy
25 April 2008
Before and After: Blog Filler Flowers
Lately, when I write on this blog, I go for days at a time without posting again. This post is mostly for the sake of writing something down. I'm sorry. It's just how it goes. I'm glad every time I come up with something, anything, I consider blog worthy. Lately, things that are blog worthy are also more interesting in my real life than in my blog life. Basically, my blog used to be more interesting than my life because I have the ability, as a writer, to make things sound more interesting than they are when my life is not that interesting. However, when my life actually IS interesting, I don't have the motivation to make it sounds clever and bloggy because, um, I'd rather just be doing my life. Basically, I'd rather be hanging out with Brandon than sending out messages for the Internets.
For example, planning my wedding is probably a whole lot more interesting to me than to any of you, my readers. Now, I'm sure there are things that you might be interested in, but I doubt you care that I've chosen two shades of pink carnations for my wedding flowers.
And I like that I've made that decision, and I don't really give a tiny rat's ass if anyone else finds it remotely interesting or even approves of the decision because it's my wedding and it will be the most wonderful day and I doubt I can properly convey the excitement I feel about the wedding and marriage on a blog. Also, I don't care that Charlotte on "Sex and the City" called carnations filler flowers. Harumph.
Anyway, I keep blogging, but lately it seems the most interesting stuff I can conjure is pictures, bulleted lists of what I did over the weekend, and links to Web sites on stuff white people like. Am interesting, yes?
P.S. I got the above photo from Real Simple Weddings. Just saying, you know, so they don't sue me.
For example, planning my wedding is probably a whole lot more interesting to me than to any of you, my readers. Now, I'm sure there are things that you might be interested in, but I doubt you care that I've chosen two shades of pink carnations for my wedding flowers.
And I like that I've made that decision, and I don't really give a tiny rat's ass if anyone else finds it remotely interesting or even approves of the decision because it's my wedding and it will be the most wonderful day and I doubt I can properly convey the excitement I feel about the wedding and marriage on a blog. Also, I don't care that Charlotte on "Sex and the City" called carnations filler flowers. Harumph.
Anyway, I keep blogging, but lately it seems the most interesting stuff I can conjure is pictures, bulleted lists of what I did over the weekend, and links to Web sites on stuff white people like. Am interesting, yes?
P.S. I got the above photo from Real Simple Weddings. Just saying, you know, so they don't sue me.
22 April 2008
Because Blue Bell is certainly the kindest ice cream
Brandon and I needed to get out of town for a weekend. We are both tired, we are both constantly stressed out about work, we are both in need of rest. So, this weekend, we left town. We agreed on the way back to Dallas on Sunday that we probably tried to pack too much into one weekend, but we still had a wonderful time. And, of course, we experienced a couple of challenges which annoyed us to pieces and caused us to declare that we are done owning cars. Finished I tell you! Harumph.
On Friday, we drove to Brenham. Our goal was to visit the Blue Bell factory and see the Washington County Bluebonnets. Unfortunately for us (and as is typical of us) we did not get quite the early start we imagined. As we rolled into Washinton County, we realized we had 25 minutes to get someplace that would normally be 35 minutes away. We were going to miss the last tour of the Blue Bell factory. This was quite disappointing, but we figured we would try anyway.
We arrived at the Blue Bell creamery exactly six minutes after the last tour departed for the day. My eyes welled up, as I was so disappointed. Luckily for us, a nice man named Ricky Dickson happened to be standing there at the creamery entrance. He turned out to be a Blue Bell big shot, and he promised he would take us on a tour if no one else would. He found a tour guide for us, and we got to take a tour after all! The peasants rejoiced. And ate ice cream.
The first time I visited Matt and Nicole Tatum in their Portland, Ore. apartment, I bought two half-gallons of Blue Bell ice cream before I left town. I packed them in a styrofoam cooler on dry ice, and when I landed in Portland, eight hours after I bought the ice cream at an H-E-B in Austin, they were still frozen solid thanks to the wonder of dry ice. I am a dedicated Blue Bell fan. And now, not only do I love Blue Bell because it is tasty but also because it is the kindest ice cream.
And now for the rest of the trip:
We ate Italian food in Brenham.
We ate barbecue in Sealy, Texas, with Brandon's dad who drove up from Houston to meet us for lunch.
And then we drove to San Antonio. We made it to San Antonio in time to visit the Alamo before it closed for the day.
We ate Mexican food. We thought about going salsa dancing. And then we went to sleep instead.
On Sunday, we found a screw in the wall of Brandon's back driver side tire. We bought a tire at National Tire and Battery because Discount Tire Company was closed. We're still peeved about it.
We drove home through Waco and stopped for Health Camp burgers and chocolate shakes.
We visited the Suspension Bridge.
And we drove past the Waco Tribune-Herald for posterity's sake. Sniffle. How I love that place.
All in all, this was a relaxing trip. Clearly, the highlight (for me) was the ice cream. Please kindly ignore how chunky I look in this picture. Ice cream=delish.
On Friday, we drove to Brenham. Our goal was to visit the Blue Bell factory and see the Washington County Bluebonnets. Unfortunately for us (and as is typical of us) we did not get quite the early start we imagined. As we rolled into Washinton County, we realized we had 25 minutes to get someplace that would normally be 35 minutes away. We were going to miss the last tour of the Blue Bell factory. This was quite disappointing, but we figured we would try anyway.
We arrived at the Blue Bell creamery exactly six minutes after the last tour departed for the day. My eyes welled up, as I was so disappointed. Luckily for us, a nice man named Ricky Dickson happened to be standing there at the creamery entrance. He turned out to be a Blue Bell big shot, and he promised he would take us on a tour if no one else would. He found a tour guide for us, and we got to take a tour after all! The peasants rejoiced. And ate ice cream.
The first time I visited Matt and Nicole Tatum in their Portland, Ore. apartment, I bought two half-gallons of Blue Bell ice cream before I left town. I packed them in a styrofoam cooler on dry ice, and when I landed in Portland, eight hours after I bought the ice cream at an H-E-B in Austin, they were still frozen solid thanks to the wonder of dry ice. I am a dedicated Blue Bell fan. And now, not only do I love Blue Bell because it is tasty but also because it is the kindest ice cream.
And now for the rest of the trip:
We ate Italian food in Brenham.
We ate barbecue in Sealy, Texas, with Brandon's dad who drove up from Houston to meet us for lunch.
And then we drove to San Antonio. We made it to San Antonio in time to visit the Alamo before it closed for the day.
We ate Mexican food. We thought about going salsa dancing. And then we went to sleep instead.
On Sunday, we found a screw in the wall of Brandon's back driver side tire. We bought a tire at National Tire and Battery because Discount Tire Company was closed. We're still peeved about it.
We drove home through Waco and stopped for Health Camp burgers and chocolate shakes.
We visited the Suspension Bridge.
And we drove past the Waco Tribune-Herald for posterity's sake. Sniffle. How I love that place.
All in all, this was a relaxing trip. Clearly, the highlight (for me) was the ice cream. Please kindly ignore how chunky I look in this picture. Ice cream=delish.
16 April 2008
Yes!
On Sunday morning, Brandon and I went to the Dallas Arboretum to take our engagement pictures. We happened to go to the Arboretum on the last day of the Dallas Blooms festival, possibly the busiest day of the year. Needless to say, there were people everywhere. It was annoying trying to shoot intimate pictures with hundreds of people milling around, but my good friend Allison is a champion and managed to capture some truly lovely shots of us. Here's a sampling. Enjoy!
Nice, sweet profile shot.
We love each other.
Yes!
Whadyathink?
Nice, sweet profile shot.
We love each other.
Yes!
Whadyathink?
11 April 2008
Happy Birthday: We love that shit.
My old friend Brandon celebrated his 27th birthday yesterday. It occurred to me as I was getting ready for bed last night that I met Brandon when I was 15, as a nerdy high school freshman. I even checked my yearbook to make sure I had, indeed, met him that year because OMG that was 10 years ago. I met him when I was 15. I'm now 25. How time flies.
We celebrated Brandon's birthday by taking in a Frisco RoughRiders baseball game. The RoughRiders are a Texas Rangers farm team, and last night was their home opener. Most of our group of friends went to the game, including a couple newer additions, my fiance Brandon and a couple spouses, significant others, and college friends the group amassed in the last 10 years. But, the same core group of people, mostly, are still there. At one point during the evening, I turned to Ryon, a newish addition to the group, and said, "I love being this age."
I met old chum Brandon in the school cafeteria and subsequently met a small group of his friends, including a couple from the youth group. They welcomed me into their group, and this was much appreciated given aforementioned uber-nerdiness. I sat with them at lunch every day, thanking my lucky stars I didn't have to sit alone. See, freshman year was my first year back in a public school, and I didn't know anyone. I had braces. I was on the drill team but didn't jive with the girls. I lucked out and sat with a church girl friend first semester of that year, but by second semester, we had different lunch hours. I was stuck. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I somehow spotted this small group of kids that included a few from the youth group at church. I remember sheepishly asking if I could sit with them and being so grateful to drop into a seat. I never finished my lunch, and Brandon always ate the rest of it. I really thought they were the coolest people in school.
Last night at the game, we collectively spotted a girl we went to high school with who (I think) had been head cheerleader or something. Standing around after the game, we saw her approach the ballplayers from the stands, and I kind of smirked about the irony. There was a person who had been COOL in high school, talking to minor league ballplayers because they wear uniforms. Instead of hitting on football players after games, she drives to Frisco to hit on AA ballplayers. I imagine not much has changed for her. But for us, these friends I've known for 10 years, change defines us. After my wedding this fall, our group will include six married couples. This summer, my friend Lindsey will have the second baby in the group. Life just keeps getting better. Richer.
Most of that original lunch bunch was there last night. We're all still friends. As a group, we took up a four row section of seats in the ballpark. We ate hot dogs and cotton candy and drank overpriced beer and didn't really watch much of the game. Instead, we laughed. And I was, am, so very thankful.
Happy Birthday, Brandon! We all love you.
We celebrated Brandon's birthday by taking in a Frisco RoughRiders baseball game. The RoughRiders are a Texas Rangers farm team, and last night was their home opener. Most of our group of friends went to the game, including a couple newer additions, my fiance Brandon and a couple spouses, significant others, and college friends the group amassed in the last 10 years. But, the same core group of people, mostly, are still there. At one point during the evening, I turned to Ryon, a newish addition to the group, and said, "I love being this age."
I met old chum Brandon in the school cafeteria and subsequently met a small group of his friends, including a couple from the youth group. They welcomed me into their group, and this was much appreciated given aforementioned uber-nerdiness. I sat with them at lunch every day, thanking my lucky stars I didn't have to sit alone. See, freshman year was my first year back in a public school, and I didn't know anyone. I had braces. I was on the drill team but didn't jive with the girls. I lucked out and sat with a church girl friend first semester of that year, but by second semester, we had different lunch hours. I was stuck. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I somehow spotted this small group of kids that included a few from the youth group at church. I remember sheepishly asking if I could sit with them and being so grateful to drop into a seat. I never finished my lunch, and Brandon always ate the rest of it. I really thought they were the coolest people in school.
Last night at the game, we collectively spotted a girl we went to high school with who (I think) had been head cheerleader or something. Standing around after the game, we saw her approach the ballplayers from the stands, and I kind of smirked about the irony. There was a person who had been COOL in high school, talking to minor league ballplayers because they wear uniforms. Instead of hitting on football players after games, she drives to Frisco to hit on AA ballplayers. I imagine not much has changed for her. But for us, these friends I've known for 10 years, change defines us. After my wedding this fall, our group will include six married couples. This summer, my friend Lindsey will have the second baby in the group. Life just keeps getting better. Richer.
Most of that original lunch bunch was there last night. We're all still friends. As a group, we took up a four row section of seats in the ballpark. We ate hot dogs and cotton candy and drank overpriced beer and didn't really watch much of the game. Instead, we laughed. And I was, am, so very thankful.
Happy Birthday, Brandon! We all love you.
04 April 2008
If you ever get sick in Plano
If it happens, try to make the ambulance or your husband or wife or parents take you to Presbyterian Hospital. Because their food is delish. Seriously, I had lunch there this week. The room service program won a national restaurant award and I chose to write a fun story about it. And they served me lunch when I came out to do the reporting. The hospital's head chef prepared the most wonderful enchilada I have ever put in my mouth. Wild mushroom enchiladas. Beef tenderloin with Yukon gold potatoes and white and green asparagus. Grilled salmon with maple bread pudding and jicama cucumber slaw. I would happily go out to eat at Presbyterian if that were an option. But I'm not ill or bedridden. Also, you don't go out to eat at hospitals. Harumph.
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