The only real thing I have on my plate of things to talk about this week seems to be the drivers in my new town. I’ve never seen such a large grouping of people who love a good stop sign like they do. In fact, they like to pull up, park and visually visit with all the other drivers at all the 4 way stops exchanging stories telepathically while I listen to the radio and quietly contemplate the thickness of the asphalt. If it had only happened once, I’d be a little more forgiving, but this happens at every 4 way. It’s not that I want them to do a rolling stop, I just want them to get to the stop sign, acknowledge it’s their turn and drive on. Instead, they pull up and sit a spell while occasionally flapping their arms about. It’s like they’re not sure what stop signs are – clearly, it’s not a “go” sign, so they’re obligated to settle in. Good law abiding folks in this town.

The other thing they can’t quite master is the middle turn lane. They’ll dart into it in order to get going left, but they don’t want to leave it. If you leave them plenty of room, they’ll slow down. They’re not going anywhere and you’d better not even think of trying to let them in.

The only thing they seem to feel confident about is they want to be in front of you if you’re swapping lanes. It’s a sticking point with them. If you’re half a car length ahead of them and start blinking, by golly if they need your lane they’re not about to let you cut in front of them. No sirree Billy Bob. It’s their right nay their duty to be in front of you when the lane swapping happens.

I hope my informational packet for Living in the Land of Pflugers arrives soon along with the paper work to change my name to Julie. I want to fit in!

On the work front, the brain trust are abuzz about Ken Lay’s faked death and how “weren’t” is a “hick” word. Poor conjunction never did anything to them.