~Wednesday~ I caught the #9 Greek Village Wolfline bus in this morning, and tracked its progress to my stop on my BlackBerry via this website.
Shortly after I arrived at the Kaplan/Gorman stop to wait for the bus, a young lady wearing a backpack walked up to the stop and stood within hearing distance of me. Poor thing. About five minutes later, a guy walked up and stood next to her and this conversation ensued:
He: “I came out of the bedroom and you were gone.”
She: “I told you I was going out.”
He: “Well, yesterday I had you up and out here in plenty of time.”
She: “Yeah, but sometimes you’re easily distracted, like this morning, and I didn’t want to miss the bus.”
Once on the bus, a quick scan of the 20 people revealed a “diverse crowd” this morning: 8 White, 3 Asian, 2 Black, 1 Middle Eastern, 5 Indian, and 1 Hispanic.
I got to work quite early this morning. I didn’t mention that it was the 7:00 Wolfline bus that I’d caught in.
I had one meeting today, which was at 9:00, and for which I had a good hour-and-a-half worth of work to do in prep for. Hence the early morning start.
On my way out of my building at the end of the day, I noted the cop cars surrounding the Wachovia bank, which is about three buildings down from mine on Hillsborough Street. This is the same bank that was robbed recently—just last month if I’m not mistaken. And not much before that the credit union, a little bit farther in the opposite direction, and the one in front of which I stand to catch the city bus, was robbed. Story: Police: Wachovia hold-up might be work of serial robber. Crazy.
I caught the #9 Greek Village Wolfline bus and at the Carmichael Recreation Center stop, an Indian guy got on and took the seat beside me. As I looked down at my BlackBerry, which was resting in my lap, I saw something move beyond it out of the corner of my eye. Shifting my gaze, I saw a fly going on, around, and in between the Indian guy’s exposed toes. I kept expecting him to kick it in reflex, but I don’t think he ever realized it was there.
I’m subscribed to A.Word.A.Day, and over the past month or so there have been two different words as their “Word of the Day” that are very close in meaning to that of Sophie’s Choice. One is Morton’s Fork, and the other is Buridan’s Ass. Interesting.
I asked this of my fellow salon members: “When used in the following way: ‘She’s such a bitch; bless her heart,’ what rhetorical device is the clause ‘bless her heart’ employing?”
I just loved Anna’s response: “[R]eference to her heart as representative of her whole self is synecdoche (my fav trope). Intent of the expression feels like garden variety irony, or maybe tragic irony (depends on how your garden grows). Or, maybe some variant of paradiastole? As rendered, you are softening the force of the epithet ‘bitch.'”
Such a beautiful thing.
I immediately went over to Save The Words to adopt paradiastole, but much to my chagrin, it was not available for adoption. 
“Pick me!” “Hey! Over here!” “Yo!” “Me, me!” “Choose me!” God, I love that site.
Once home, I ran to K-Mart to pick up my Nexium refill and to look at picture frames, but I didn’t see one I loved there.
I ran to the Target at Crossroads Plaza, where I had no luck finding “tri-fold, horizontal, 4×6 frames,” but I did find a great 14″ x 18″ one for a poster my parents saw in a restaurant back in February after which I ordered.
Dancing was fun enough tonight. Geromy’s mom was in attendance, there was a somewhat decent crowd there, and I had several nice two-steps including ones with: Bill, Geromy, Michael (I think), and two with Rob.
Carl taught the Bumpers line-dance, and there were about eight people out there taking the lesson, so that was good.
Van played a version of the Simon and Garfunkel song, Homeward Bound, sung by Janie Fricke, which I just loved.
I left there at 11:00.