Tuesday, March 29, 2016


(That does lend it rather an air of finality when I don't include a subtitle, doesn't it. < River Song Voice>Spoilers.< /River Song Voice>)

(< /html joke>)

Sometime last year (I wasn't taking notes), I realized that this blog would have 900 posts and be done. Two children, the fact that my work is a significant outlet for my creative energy, the sudden inexplicable onerousness of having to write several posts in a row about specific routes without basing them on recent experiences, all contributed to the frequency of my posts on this blog steadily declining; therefore, they declined. Not wanting to leave the blog out in the wilderness, I decided 900 was a good number to stop at; therefore, I am stopping.

It is pause-inducing to contemplate how much my life has changed since I began writing this blog in 2010. Take a look at this picture of me from that time period:

 I can see him looking out at me accusingly, as if to say, "What have you done with my life?" to which I would put on my best FrontRunner dad glare

and say, "Listen, you, I've done plenty with my life. I've gotten two degrees. I met commutergirl and we dated and I proposed to her in the same spot my grandpa proposed to my grandma and we got married and had two kids. I got my dream job and moved to the city and we're going to buy a house now. Yes, a house; so you can keep your judgey eyes to yourself, mister I-share-a-bunkbed-with-a-stranger-because-I'm-in-college-and-I-make-no-money."

I've written elsewhere that ". . . I was nobody before I was married; I was pointless before I had a family. I have learned to love, and be loved, more than I ever thought possible." My life is full of good things now and if blogging no longer occupies as much of my time, well, maybe it no longer needs to.

I'll always probably be on the internet somewhere

but I've thoroughly enjoyed my time here. I hope you have as well. I'm keeping the Twitter, for what it's worth. I'll comment on things from time to time, and I'll probably be spotted at the odd public hearing, and even a musical performance here and there. But the best, of course, is if you can find me on a bus. Happy trails!

(< /blog>)

Monday, March 7, 2016


Spotted at a train crossing the other morning.

I guess the train took a while.

What I really want to know is, who is the person who carries chalk around with them so they can leave commentary on the sidewalk at sundry times? and why is that person not me?

New goal: figure out an easy way to carry chalk around with me without coating my effects in fine, chalky powder.


2007: UTA renumbers Route 89 as Route 389.

2011: UTA cuts Route 389 in conjunction with the opening of the Green Line.

2015: U of U renovates building, rips out old bus stop, builds new bus stop.

2015: UTA reroutes Route 2X; adds route sign down below because there is no room.

2016: Route 389 sign is still up.

Saturday, March 5, 2016


It quickly became clear after we brought his little sister home from the hospital that we were going to have to pay special attention to Baby so that he could be sure he wasn't forgotten and also not resort to disruption and regression to garner his parents' precious attention. There's nothing particularly revolutionary about this; many other parents of two children before us have had to learn how to balance the obvious immediate physical needs of the newborn with the emotional-social needs of the toddler.

I had a few days off to work with, so I planned outings to the Children's Museum, parks, the haircut place, the library. We caught the bus all over. We crossed at crossings no two-year-old should ever brave alone. We laughed. He cried. He fussed. I sighed. And by the end of the week, he was much happier and no longer felt the need to do crazy things to get my attention.

But there was this one time when we were coming back from the park, that Baby finally got me. He finally achieved what hundreds of toddlers before him had achieved, but he had only dreamed about. He pulled the cord when I wasn't paying attention. He pulled the cord before we needed to get off.

What can I say? I was tired. Having a newborn makes you tired. I had just spent the last couple of hours paying attention to a toddler's every move (having a toddler can also make you tired), so maybe my toddler-paying-attention-to circuits were all burned out for the day. Whatever the cause, my dignity would not be so offended again on that trip--I moved to the window seat and kept very close watch on him for the rest of the trip.