SKITTISH ABOUT MOTORCYCLES

After a recent near encounter with a police officer, I’m extremely skittish about motorcycles.

I was driving east on Loula Street in near downtown Olathe. I stopped for the stop sign at Water.

Another motorist was coming west bound on Loula, and likewise stopped for the stop sign at Water. I thought we had reached the intersection at about the same time, but since I wanted to make a left turn, I remained stopped to allow the other motorist to proceed through the intersection.

A patrolman on a motorcycle was behind the other motorist. The patrolman accelerated as the motorist moved forward, but he did stop at the “stop” line. I thought it was my turn to go through the intersection, and I started to move forward.

To my horror, so did the patrolman.

I instantly put on the brakes. So did the patrolman.

Hastily, I tried to review in my mind the rules of the road. I thought I was second in line for the right to enter the intersection – I thought he was third in line.

No doubt he was on duty. It crossed my mind that he had received orders to go to a specific location, and his mind might be more on the task that awaited him than the current need to safely navigate the streets. With my vehicle awkwardly paused, crosswise, in the middle of the intersection, I waved the right-of-way to the patrolman.

And got the shakes thinking about what could have happened if either one of us had been a little quicker on the pedal.

New Name for Blog

Just changed the name on my knitting-and-writing blog.

Changed it to pegsotherblog.blogspot.com and I'm going to put it on my blog roll.

Whittlin' and Knittin'

Still knitting, and trying to write. Or at least figure out what I want to write. Today I took apart an unfinished knitting project that I finally admit I never will finish. Completing the project requires thinking about it. Thinking about knitting interferes with thinking about writing. Knitting anklewarmers requires no brain power.

I wonder sometimes how men find the time to think about their writing. Back in the olden days, men sat and whittled -- I remember a frequent scene from my childhood when all the males in my life, my father, my uncles, my grandfather, and any stray males who happened to wander down the road, would be sitting in an informal circle somewhere out in the yard, sitting on a stump, or leaning on a fence, the blades on their pocket knives flashing while they all whittled away on a stick or a twig.

My mother complained that none of them ever actually made anything, they just kept whittling a point on the stick, until it was nearly gone. I can understand. If they'd been whittling an object, a cooking spoon, a wooden doll, a little bird, they would have had to stop to think, and that would have interfered mightily with their gossip talking.

Vindication

I've just been told that vindication is not quite the most appropriate word, but I think that's what I'm feeling.

Some ten-fifteen years ago there was a movement to unite the four major conflict resolution organizations under one institutional roof. Those four would have been the Academy of Family Mediators, The Society of Professionals in Dispute Resolution, the teachers group that promoted conflict resolution programs in public schools, and the National Association for Community Mediation.

As a member of NAFCM at the time, I felt strongly that the interests of NAFCM would not be served by joining the new organization, which was to be known by the name of Association of Conflict Resolution, ACR. The issue was discussed with passion and conviction at the NCPCR meeting in Phoenix, and NAFCM did not join ACR.

I am not truly surprised to learn that the Academy of Family Mediators has now decided to pull away from ACR and re-establish their former independent organization. I can only surmise that the attempt to meld their goals into the larger organization did not work out in the long run.

A Resounding Crash

We all know what it's like when a computer crashes. It's not a pretty picture. Last week, it was just a personal crash. I just crashed. Was immobilized. I've heard of people who were so traumatized they couldn't even get out of bed in the morning. My situation wasn't that bad, I did get out of bed. Where is my energy, drive, motivation? I sure hope I can find them again pretty soon.

WHY DO I NEED A ?

Why do the html experts make it so hard to create an extra space between words or elements? If I need an extra space here or there, I have to remember  . Can't the coders let us designate one simple character to make a space? And who can remember the combination of  ? (Looks like Popeye cursing, if you ask me.)

S/he Just Doesn’t Get It

Sometimes people are so dense, so thick-headed, they “just don’t get it”.

I used to see it in small claims court, plaintiffs or defendants, who were totally incapable, and always would be, of understanding their opponent’s point of view. Of course, in most small claims cases, they did not want to understand where the other person was coming from; they had a profound fear that any exposure to the other person’s position would weaken their own.

You feel sorry sometimes for someone who “doesn’t’ get it”, and you wonder what never-going-to-happen circumstance it’s going to take to open their minds to other opinions. There are times when you fault yourself, and believe yourself to be a failure when you cannot find the exact words, or any words, to create a bit of enlightment.

And if you’re truly honest, you’ll wonder if there are times when a friend or acquaintance or associate looks at you in bafflement and wonders why “you don’t get it”?