My Colorful Vocabulary

Last night I learned something new about myself.  Actually, I learned something new about everybody else. I'm reading a book called 'Musicophilia'.  I thought it was going to be an entertaining book about the strange ways music affects people.  Turns out, it's more a series of medical essays of strange experiences people have had with music, like people who get songs stuck in their heads so long and so loud that it interferes with their lives, or people who only hear horrible noise when other people hear music.  But the chapter I read last night was about a neurological condition called synesthesia, roughly translated to mean 'combined senses'. The book talked about the form when people literally see color when they hear music.

But it also talked in detail about people who have colors associated with numbers, letters, days of the week, months, etc.  And I thought, 'wait, not everybody sees their world color-coded?  Weird.'  As long as I've known, numbers, letters, days, and months have had colors assigned to them.  And not just colors, but specific shades and personalities.  For instance, 4 is light silvery blue.  7 is kind of sage green.  Put them together and 47 becomes a really nice teal.  It's the prettiest number, and for that reason has always been my favorite.  74 is my second favorite number.  It has more green in it because 7 has a stronger influence as the leading digit.  As I was reading, the book was talking about one 'synesthete' to whom somebody said that 9-11 happened on a Monday.   When I read that, I thought, 'I don't think so.  9-11 was a red day, which means it must have been a Tuesday.  If it had been a Monday, it would have been blue with brown highlights.'  Then I read the next line in the book, and it said basically that same thing, except the synesthete in the book associated yellow with Tuesday and 9-11.  A few more examples: July is bright blue with lime green highlights, and loud.  January is another blue month, but quiet.  I used to be really good at guessing people's birth months based on their personalities.  I don't know how good I am anymore, but people generally fit with their color and personality.  9 is brown, strict, and practical.  5 is red, short, sweet, and fun, but gets the job done.  6 is orange and way out there.  Z is silver and trustworthy, V is the same color as 47, W is gray and fun, N is brown and plays by the rules, etc.  I did a little research today, and it turns out about 1 in 23 people are synesthetes (although the number is probably higher because a lot of people who think this way don't realize it's unusual so they don't report it).  Also, neurologists and psychologists think it might be genetic.  So, family, do any of you live in a color-coded world?

To The Races!

It's the season of races.  Preakness, Kentucky Derby, Triple Crown, big hats, mint juleps, all that good stuff.  I was lucky enough to get in on some of the culture and action this past weekend.  One of the girls at work had a few tickets to Rocky Mountain Raceway on Saturday, so some of us went to watch the car races!  Okay, maybe it's not quite the same culture as the Kentucky Derby, but it was definitely some kind of culture.  Instead of mint juleps they had lots of beer; instead of big hats they had big tats; instead of the Triple Crown, they had double-deckers: literally, one car welded on top of another (fourth and fifth pictures below, it's kind of hard to see, but it was like nothing I've ever imagined).  The driver in the top car was in charge of steering and the driver in the bottom car was in charge of gas and braking.  And they weren't what you would consider race cars.  They were like Geo Metros on top of 80's Honda Accords.  It was crazy.  For the final race of the night, they had five or six double-deckers do a half track.  This included a 45-degree angle turn, with the cars going as fast as they dared.  They were wobbly to start, and on that turn it was scary.  One of them very nearly toppled on the last lap.  It teetered on two tires for a few seconds as the crowd gasped and screamed, but it came to a solid landing and won the race.

A couple of the races were for compact stock cars (or something like that).  They were tiny.  I didn't realize how tiny they were (it was hard to get a perspective on the track) until one of them broke down and the crew had to go help it out on the track (sixth picture).  The car probably didn't come up to their knees.  I have no idea how a driver crams himself into one of those.

Despite the overall culture, though, I loved it.  When those engines got roaring I couldn't help smiling.  I think there's something in me that breathes exhaust and bleeds engine oil.    My favorite was what was called 'modifieds' (the first and third pictures below).  I don't know what kind of car their bases are, but they look like sports cars mixed with derby cars.  They're really low to the ground and their right hand side tires stick out a couple feet for stability.  And they're super loud.  Fantastic.  Before any of the races start, the cars would all come out and do a couple laps behind a pace car (picture number 2).  During those laps, they would zigzag along the track and look intimidating and fierce, like they're just chomping at the bit to get out from under the pace car and release all their force.  I guess the zigzagging is to loosen the tires and the steering.  It really added to the whole menacing persona of the cars though.  Going into the evening, I thought four hours watching cars go around a track might get long;  but it flew past (zoomed past?).  About halfway through the evening I started rethinking my career choice.  I could really get into driving menacingly as fast as possible without it breaking the law.

Time to Lower the Bar?

Is it just me, or has the level of customer service around here gone down in the last few years?  For a few examples:
I've always taken my car to the dealership for service.  Some people tell me I'll pay more or pay for things I don't need by going to the dealership, but I always feel like I get treated fairly and I get good service there.  But this has been deteriorating over the past year or so.  Several months ago, I went in for an oil change.  While there, they told me one of my back brake lights was out, and that it's not just a regular light bulb so they'd have to order it and it would be pretty expensive.  I spare no expense for my car, so I told them to go ahead.  They called a week later and told me the part was in so I made an appointment and went in to have the light installed.  After about an hour, my name was called so I went up to the cashier and there was only a small charge for labor, none for parts.  I questioned this, she called the mechanic over, and he explained that the light bulb hadn't been out after all; it had just come unplugged during the oil change the week before.  Really?!  I just wasted an hour of my life because they unplugged something?!  Not cool.
A few months later I was in for an engine check, and my boss came in.  I asked him what he was doing there, and found out that he'd been in for an oil change a couple days earlier (on his almost brand new Jeep), and the mechanics had put in the wrong kind of oil and jammed up his engine. He played it off like it was no big deal, but I would have been ticked!
Two months ago I got a notice from Chrysler that I had an extended lifetime warranty on my fuel tank because of a problem that I - and other owners of my model year- have been experiencing, so I needed to get my fuel tank replaced.  I called the dealership to order the part.  They said they'd call when it came in, but I should call them, just in case.  A month went by and I didn't hear anything, so I called, and it was in.  Who knows how long it had been waiting for me?  So I made the appointment, planning an entire Saturday around this, since I would basically be carless for the day.  I took my car in at the appointed time, and got a ride from my parents so I wouldn't have to sit at the dealership for the whole day.  An HOUR AND A HALF later, the mechanic called to say he had just taken a look at my car, and it looked like I would need a new fuel tank, so he'd have to order that, and I'd need to schedule an appointment for when the part came in.  WHAT?!!!  What did he think I was doing there?!  First off, why, when I had an appointment, did it take him 1 1/2 hours to start looking at my car, and second, why did he not know why my car was there?!  I explained to him that the part had been ordered, I'd confirmed it was there, and that's why I had the appointment.  He quietly said he'd call right back.  A few minutes later he called to say he had found the part and he'd start working on my car.  Yeah, he'd better start working on my car!

Next- my sprinkler guys.  I like to think I can handle the small sprinkler repairs; I can turn on the sprinklers in the spring, put in risers, turn heads, etc.  But if there's any chance of making a mistake that will lead to water getting in my basement, I call the sprinkler guys.  I use a company I found a few years ago that I think is pretty expensive, but I've been impressed with them because I can schedule an appointment at any time, and they come exactly when they say they will.  They'll come before I have to leave for work, and they work quickly so I'm only a few minutes late for work.  But in the last three times I've called them, the closest they've been to on time was forty minutes late.  The first of those times wasn't really their fault.  It was a super cold day, and their gate, behind which all their trucks were locked, had completely frozen up.  They called and asked if I wanted to keep my appointment, so I at least appreciated the warning.  Two weeks ago, they were six hours late, so I basically spent my entire Saturday sitting at home waiting for the sprinkler guy to show up.  And I had to have them come- I had a broken valve that I definitely couldn't have fixed by myself, and I couldn't turn on my sprinklers til it was fixed so my lawn was burning.  The latest was this week.  I scheduled the first appointment of the day, so they couldn't possibly be late.  And yet, they managed to be an hour late.  And when I checked my sprinklers after they had left, I found that they had crossed wires or something, so now two of my zones come on at the same time.  I don't want that.  But I also don't want to call them back to fix it.  They've already charged me an arm and a leg this season.  I don't want to give them another limb and another day.  I'm so frustrated with service people!  In case you couldn't tell.

You Know You Live in the Digital Age When...

You know you live in the digital age when...
...while playing the piano, you wonder about something else and try to do a google search on the piano keyboard
...while reading a conventional book, you're surprised when the pages don't turn just by tapping them
...in a business meeting, you need to say something to somebody on the other end of the room, and your first instinct is to write it on the piece of paper in front of you and hit ''send'
...you're genuinely surprised when you put your hands underneath a faucet and the water doesn't turn on automatically (I know this isn't digital, but it's still a modern wonder)

A Cold Glimpse Into My Future

A few days ago I got an email from a friend advertising a singles fireside in Draper for ages 31-45.  I've been to these firesides before and they're rough.  Generally they consist of 30-40 girls, 2 guys sitting with what must be their girlfriends, and about 20 married people who I assume are the the singles sponsors for the various stakes represented at the fireside.  You think I'm exaggerating that- I'm not.  But I hadn't been to one in Draper, so I thought maybe this would be a different group.  I didn't want to go.  At all.  But I knew there was a better chance of meeting guys there than in my basement eating cookies, so I put on a dress and went.  When I arrived, the parking lot was actually full.  I was shocked.  Keep in mind, a full parking lot at a singles' event isn't the same thing as a full parking lot at a family event.  Each car at a singles event carries one person, vs the four or five people for a family event, so a full parking lot might still only mean about 80-100 people, but that was a great deal more people than I expected to see there.  So I let myself get a little hopeful.  Then I went inside.
The chapel was full, so I found a seat among some people in the overflow and started taking in my surroundings.  There was an overwhelming number of grey and bald heads, and I couldn't figure out what was going on.  I thought maybe there were just lots of sponsors from the representative stakes, but the way they were interacting (a lot of them sitting alone, not really socializing, giving off a general air of hopelessness) didn't seem to fit that.  Then it hit me.  The email I had gotten was wrong.  This wasn't a 31-45 fireside.  This was a 31 and older fireside.  Emphasis on older.  I sat in shock.  I didn't know what to do.  In the singles community, everybody knows that if you're still in the 31-45 crowd, you DON'T go to the over 45 activities.  It's scary.  Nobody should ever see that until they have to.  I imagine it's like giving birth.  If you're going to have to go through it, then and ONLY then you watch the video.  Until then, avoid seeing that like the plague.  You just don't really want to know what you're in for.  Thankfully the fireside started before I had much time to think.  When it ended I stood up and looked around.  There were a few others who might have been in their thirties (making hasty retreats), and a few more in the their forties, but the vast majority were in the grandparent stage of life.  I even think I recognized the parents of some of my high school friends.  It was horrible.
My take-away from the evening was that I can't let myself make it into that group.  At any cost.  So, it's time for me to go back to online dating.  Sigh... yes, despite my previous experience of having met A) a guy who was at least 40 pounds heavier, one head balder, and 10 years older than his picture, B) a guy who claimed to have been a Harvard educated doctor but actually went to college in Missouri and was unemployed, and C) a serial rapist, I'm giving the online world another shot.
Wish me luck.

Carmageddon

This post is basically a traffic report, but it's the most exciting thing that's happened to me in a while, so I'm writing about it.  And it's super long.  Get ready.
At work right now, we're in our very very busy time.  We've spent the last few weeks building up to this week, making budgets, uploading reports, downloading reports, and building board packages for the executives to review all our numbers.  Today was the first day of the review meetings, where all the executives in Salt Lake would be meeting and having a video conference with executives around the world to go through the books we've been putting together.  As of last night, we still had a lot of work to do before we'd be ready for the meeting, so my boss asked me to come in early today. 

This morning I was watching the news at the gym and seeing reports of freezing rain and bad traffic, so I decided to get ready in 'super hurry mode' (I have various levels of speed for how I get ready- that's for another post someday) so I could get out the door even earlier than I had planned.  I did well, and managed to be on the road pretty early.  About five minutes later, my windshield was covered with a solid sheet of ice from the rain hitting it and freezing immediately.  Luckily my defroster works really well, so that only caused a few minutes of less than responsbile driving.  Traffic was slow and people were fishtailing, but nothing too bad was happening yet, besides a few ambulances going past and the occasional siren in the distance, so I had no idea what I was in for.

About twenty minutes later, when I had gone what normally takes about five minutes, I came to a downhill portion of my drive.  Everybody on my side of the hill was going super slow but steady.  The other side of the hill (people going up) was mostly empty, but there was one truck that just couldn't get a grip.  It was almost to the top, but couldn't get there.  It was fishtailing everywhere, then it would slide backwards a ways and try again, but couldn't gain ground.  I think it just needed people to push it up the rest of the way, but nobody dared leave their cars on the side of the road for fear of being smashed.  Last I saw it was still fishtailing and spinning its tires. 

About 40 minutes into my drive (it usually takes me 45 minutes total to get to work), I only had two more lights before the freeway.  But as I came up to an intersection, I saw all kinds of flashing lights and emergency vehicles, and I realized the lane I needed to be in to get on the freeway was blocked, so I got in a turning lane to take a side road.  Directly across the intersection from me was a minivan with its nose pointed down at about a 45-degree angle to the road, and its end up in the air.  It had a smaller car almost completely underneath it.  The back of the van was too high for me to tell what had happened, but I couldn't understand how that little car mustered enough strength to get under the van.  As I made the turn I got a better view and saw a truck behind the car, that must have lost traction when it tried to brake, and pushed the car under the van.  Crazy!  There's a picture in this article: http://www.ksl.com/?sid=23839268&nid=1164

So I took the side road parallel to the freeway for a couple miles, thinking maybe it'd have fewer accidents than the freeway.  Nope!  Every few hundred feet there were cars lying willy-nilly in all directions and across all lanes.  So I got on the freeway at the next entrance.  Bad idea!  For the next hour and a half, I stayed in first gear, inching my way down about 4 miles of freeway.  I only saw a couple accidents, but that's probably because nobody was moving fast enough to slide anywhere. 

Eventually people started deciding they were above waiting with the rest of us, so they took to the shoulder to get ahead.  I don't put up with that kind of nonsense, and since my car is bigger than average, I have no problem hanging out over the shoulder and blocking people from doing that.  One guy passed me anyway, but only got by me with inches to spare.  Right after him, another car tried to pass me, and I was MAD, so there was no way I was letting him by.  Then he turned on his lights.  Turns out it was an unmarked cop car.  I very meekly got back into my lane and let him go pull the first guy over.  It figures the time I finally really take a stand, it'd be a cop.  At least the first guy got justice.

So after 1 1/2 hours on the freeway, when I got up to the interchange to get on the other freeway to go to work, I found out that freeway was closed.  The report on the radio said there were about 15 cars piled around the other end of the interchange ramp, and people were standing around just watching the crashes from overpasses like bumper cars.  So I had to take a different exit that put me on another side road.  Somehow that side road was free and clear, as if the ice sheet had completely missed it.  People were still going slow, but there were no more accidents or slide-offs, and 30 minutes later (and two phone calls from my boss making sure I hadn't been in an accident), I pulled into the parking lot. 

Today's Commute Tally: 2 1/2 hours, tons of 'car'nage all over the road, and a much less productive work day than I was planning on.
Between this and the blizzard a few weeks ago, I'm more grateful than I can say that I have four-wheel drive.

The Yips

Well, I've got the yips.
According to Wikipedia, "Yips or the yips is the apparent loss of fine motor skills without apparent explanation, in one of a number of different sports. The technical term is focal dystonia. Athletes affected by the yips demonstrate a sudden, unexplained, loss of previous skills. Athletes affected by the yips sometimes recover their ability, sometimes compensate by changing technique, or may be forced to abandon their sport at the highest level....  In baseball, the yips usually manifests itself as a sudden inability to throw the baseball accurately. Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Steve Blass is the classic example: from 1964 to 1972, he was a dominant pitcher and All-Star; however, beginning in 1973, he suddenly lost his command, walking almost a batter an inning; he retired in 1974 due to continued loss of his pitching ability. “Steve Blass Disease” has been attributed to talented players (such as New York Yankees second baseman Chuck Knoblauch or Los Angeles Dodgers second baseman Steve Sax) who inexplicably seem to lose their ability to throw the ball accurately."

When I play the piano at home with nobody around, I'm awesome.  I'm Mozart, but a girl.  When I play the same pieces in front of people, I'm a nine-year old with no rhythm.  I also happen to be the ward choir pianist.  The songs the choir director chooses aren't particularly simple, but they're not super hard either.  I practice them at home, and they sound pretty good.  By the morning of the performance, I can always get through the full song without any mistakes.  Then I get to Sacrament Meeting and the whole things goes out the window.  Every time.  Today the choir sang 'Ere You Left Your Room This Morning'.  I went through it several times this morning with no problem.  When I played for the choir in church just a few hours later, I lost my place on the first page and just played random chords for three measures until I found my place again, then I had to skip several other notes throughout the song because my fingers couldn't get to them fast enough.  What's the deal?!  Am I going to have to retire as a victim of Steve Blass Disease?!