September 26th, 2001


road rant

I hate people who believe that putting on makeup, talking on the phone, smoking a cigarette, having a screaming match with other people in the car, or that stupid french fry under the seat is more important than controlling two tons of steel, glass and fire on the road.


We had two huge cement mixers on our driveway this morning at 7, sharp. They were churning away and grinding away and growling as they slowly slid their loads down chutes into the frames that the garage builders had made to contain the grey, rocky sludge. Jet was fascinated. Huge growing pools of grey mud that the cement folks pushed around, gradually smoothed into the perfectly flat surfaces good in garage floors. It was fun to watch the transformation.

John's garage has been inspected and okayed, so they're making it all permanent.

It was nearly as fascinating as watching the crusty, big, cement guy suddenly crack a huge grin, pitch his voice up two octaves and try and get Jet to smile at him. Jet obliged with a brilliant grin and cracked the guy up. The guy also loved it when Jet then watched solemnly as they smoothed it all down, and then ran water over it to help with the cure. A proper respect for the work, it seems.