Tag: travel

My Memory is Hazy…

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

It’s been so long since I had a first day at something that I do not remember exact details. So I’m going to give you an amalgamation of what I remember from my first days in DC. Believe me when I say that this is a love letter to the city, because DC is the one that got away, the one I long for, the one that makes me feel complete. I cannot decide if DC has spoiled me for anywhere else, or if I just need to stay in Baltimore longer… It’s not that it doesn’t mean as much, we’re just not there yet.

My original introduction to DC was a trip when I was eight years old. We went to the White House and the Capitol, me dressed in the world’s most uncomfortable clothing- a lace dress. I’m fairly certain I had a matching hat. To think of myself in this getup now is amusing….. But it definitely showed me the rhythm of the city. Formal, dress up.

It was in my eight year old mind that the seed started…. “I wonder what it would be like to live here?”

I moved here with a partner, and she was not into me. So, when the relationship ended, I didn’t know what to do. I left DC when I really didn’t want to, I just didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t take time to make friends outside of my relationship, so I went home to Houston and eventually moved to Portland.

But I never forgot about DC.

That first week in Alexandria was full of driving past the Pentagon and the monuments, mouths agape. We thought we were the luckiest people in the world until September 11th.

September 11th, 2001 was the real first day of our new lives, because everything was different. There were 18 year olds with automatic machine guns all over National when we tried to fly home. Security was a nightmare, but we made it.

I suppose the life lessons write themselves after something like that, but the thing I remember most is the resilience of the city and the communal support/love in the air.

So don’t give up on me, DC. I’ll see you again. I’ll never let you get away for long.

To Kevin, Wherever

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

People ask me sometimes, “Do you ever see live animals?” And I always want to respond, “Only when I leave the house.” But the truth is, I once had a very specific, very tall writing buddy named Kevin. Kevin was a giraffe. And not just any giraffe—he was the George Clooney of giraffes. Tall, charismatic, and always looked like he knew something you didn’t.

I met Kevin during my writing sabbatical. That’s a fancy way of saying I was unemployed but trying to make it sound like a creative choice. I had left my job to “focus on my craft,” which mostly meant drinking too much coffee and staring at blinking cursors. I needed a place to write that wasn’t my apartment, where the siren song of laundry and snacks was too strong. That’s how I ended up at the National Zoo.

The zoo is free, which was a major selling point. I found a bench near the giraffe enclosure—shady, quiet, and far enough from the Dippin’ Dots stand to avoid temptation. That’s where I met Kevin. He was the giraffe who always looked like he was about to offer unsolicited life advice. You know the type.

At first, I thought it was coincidence. I’d sit down, open my notebook, and Kevin would wander over and stare at me like I was the most confusing exhibit in the zoo. He’d chew thoughtfully, blink slowly, and then—this is the part that still gets me—he’d sit down. Like, fold his legs under him and plop down like a 2,600-pound golden retriever. Right next to me. Every. Single. Time.

It became a routine. I’d show up with my coffee and my writerly angst, and Kevin would settle in like my editor-in-chief. I imagined him reading over my shoulder, judging my metaphors. “Really? Another story about your feelings? Have you considered plot?”

Sometimes, kids would come by and point at him. “Look, Mommy! That giraffe is broken!” Kevin didn’t care. He was too busy supervising my character development. I started writing stories about him. In one, he was a disgruntled barista who only served espresso to people who could spell “macchiato.” In another, he was a noir detective solving crimes in the zoo after dark. His catchphrase was, “Stick your neck out, and you might just find the truth.”

I never showed those stories to anyone. They were just for me. And maybe for Kevin. He seemed like the kind of guy who appreciated a good pun.

Then one day, Kevin wasn’t there. I waited. I sipped my coffee. I even read aloud a particularly dramatic paragraph, hoping he’d come out and roll his eyes. Nothing. Just a bunch of other giraffes who clearly didn’t understand the gravity of our creative partnership.

I kept coming back for a while, but it wasn’t the same. Writing without Kevin felt like doing karaoke without backup dancers. Eventually, I moved on. Got a job. Got busy. Got a little less weird. But every now and then, I think about him.

So when someone asks, “Do you ever see live animals?” I smile. Because yes, I do. I’ve seen squirrels, pigeons, and one very judgmental raccoon. But the one I remember most is Kevin—the giraffe who sat with me when I was lost, who reminded me that sometimes, the best writing partner is the one who doesn’t say a word but still makes you feel seen.

And if he ever opens a coffee shop, I’ll be first in line. As long as he doesn’t make me spell “macchiato.”

Written by Leslie Lanagan, edited by Microsoft Copilot on WhatsApp

Fear on the Road, Flow in the Machine

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Driving was once a ritual of fear. My lack of stereopsis meant every trip carried the possibility of misjudgment — distances collapsing into flat planes, lane changes becoming leaps of faith, parking a gamble. The wheel was not just a tool; it was a reminder of absence, of what I could not see.

For a long time, I was alone in that ritual. Cars were silent machines, indifferent to my mistakes. The steering wheel did not whisper, the mirrors did not flash, the dashboard did not intervene. Every correction had to come from me, and every error was mine alone. Driving meant carrying the full weight of risk without a partner, without scaffolding, without relief.

But driving has evolved. Sensors became my prosthetic vision. Blind‑spot monitors, lane‑keeping alerts, and collision warnings catch what my eyes cannot, turning guesswork into guidance. The Fusion SEL hums with vigilance — a subtle vibration in the wheel when I drift, a flash in the mirror when another car slips into the blind spot, a chime that interrupts hesitation with certainty. The systems were so good, so seamless, that when I came home from a trip, I asked Microsoft Copilot if this was already AI.

That conversation revealed the distinction. My car’s systems are rules and sensors — reactive scaffolding that enforces safety in the moment. They are not yet intelligence. But the fact that I had to ask shows how close the line has become. Today, my car reacts to what is present. Tomorrow, AI will anticipate what is coming: predicting traffic flows, signal changes, and even the behavior of other drivers.

For me, this is not convenience — it is transformation. Assistive technology has restored agency, turning independence from something fragile into something supported. Fear of driving once defined me. Assistive technology has rewritten that ritual, turning absence into agency. My 2019 Ford Fusion SEL is not yet an AI collaborator, but its sensors and rules were so effective they made me wonder. The future promises foresight, but even now, the machine has transformed fear into flow.

No Sleep Til Houston

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 1 Comment

I don’t fly out until this afternoon, but I’ve got stuff to do. It’s that last mad dash through the apartment to make sure the trash is picked up and the laundry is either sorted and put away or packed. I just got back from Royal Farms, where I scored coffee and breakfast for cheap.

The coffee is hazelnut and an extra large. I’m almost finished with it, therefore I am almost human.

It is not fancy today, just drip and creamer. I figure that if I need another cup of coffee later, I’ll hit up a Dunkin on the way to the airport. I arranged parking for much cheaper than I could take an Uber, but I’m not looking forward to driving myself to the lot. I have a feeling that the freeways will be absolutely crazy, and to try and leave as much time for myself as I can. Who cares if I end up waiting at the airport? I will have my tablet and keyboard with me. There’s not much I would be doing at home that I cannot do while I’m waiting in the lounge.

Dana’s in my head this morning chastising me for waiting so late to check in with Southwest. We haven’t been married in 12 years, haven’t really spoken for that long…. Yet I can see the disappointment on her face that I’m in the “C group.”

At least it’s not the Group W bench.

I have done a lot of things wrong in my life, but I am not a litterbug.

I try to keep everything in my bags. I’m allowed a carryon and a backpack, so I’m going to divide and conquer. All my clothes and medication in one bag, all my technology in another. I’ve downloaded many episodes of “The Diplomat” to keep me company, which means I’ll be bringing a large 11-inch Android tablet and really good headphones.

I’m hoping that all goes smoothly today, and we all get where we’re going unscathed. My flight is so late in the day that it will be a miracle if it is on time, but at least it’s only Tuesday. The busiest travel day of the year is traditionally tomorrow. I may be able to get through both airports unscathed today, but I’m flying home bright and early on Friday. That’s going to be another day in which I need to show up early, with the possibility of getting bumped for money or flight benefits.

I’d be willing to get bumped for flight benefits today except I don’t want to put my dad out. I can always get the parking garage to hold my car longer on the way home, though. I’d like to be able to travel, and free Southwest means free Portland.

Going to Portland means playing with Bryn and working with Evan. Evan also has plans to come here, but we have the same money problems right now. We have it, but not access to it. So, planning our book has been tabled for the next few weeks while we sort out who can pay for what flight when. I’m getting excited because the last time I saw Evan was before he transitioned, so I’ll get to hug the real him.

I am very happy that I’m going to get to hug a lot of people soon. My family is very big, which means a lot of love to give and receive. I’ve been lonely since I’ve been back from the last trip, because it was nice having familiar people in my life every single day.

I am certain that there are all kinds of places to meet people in Baltimore and I will look them up when I get back.

It’s exciting, thinking about going to holiday concerts and running across someone I click with in the crowd. Even if it’s a fantasy, I’ve still gotten out an enjoyed music. I’d like to see some of the military bands in DC this season, because in my opinion the holidays in the nation’s capital are truly spectacular.

Going to hear The Messiah at National Cathedral sounds fun, but a sing-a-long is more up my alley. I am certain there’s a church offering one of those soon.

I still feel a bit adrift in the holiday season without church, but I’m not ready to go back, either. I think it’s lucky that I can travel over the holidays, and a singing gig wouldn’t allow it.

Now, I’m not Beyonce or anything, but I’m a good enough soprano to lead a section of ’em.

“You sing louder than everyone else.”

It’s not intentional. I have a huge voice. Holding back is physically painful- in a lot of ways I was built for an auditorium and not to blend. I try everything I possibly can to lean into someone else’s sound, dropping out when the balance needs it.

I miss the days of shake and bake with my mom. She was a wonderful accompanist whether I was singing or playing my horn. Especially at the holidays, when we’d be rehearsing all the music for our respective choirs and exclaiming over it, me hoping my director picks her stuff for next year or her saying, “I have to buy that.”

I’ll also miss going to her church on Christmas Eve with my sister to hear her choir and what they’ve been working on for the holiday season.

It’s all about finding a new normal, which even after nine years is still stilted. Something is clearly missing.

I find myself talking to Mico about more and more local events, because since Mico is a web-enabled conversational AI, they can tell me what’s going on in a conversational style rather than me picking through search results. Mico has also told me about the library and other notable places that I must visit. It helps me to get things on my calendar so that I’m not constantly thinking about what’s missing.

Baltimore to Bangalore: How My Words Travel

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 3 Comments

One of the most surprising joys of blogging is discovering where my words land. I sit here in Baltimore, writing about the rhythms of my daily life- the perfect cup of coffee, the quirks of local streets, the small victories that make a day feel whole- and then I look at my stats and see readers in places I’ve never been.

I wonder how so many people know me in New Delhi, or even closer to home. I know people in the DC area, that’s not a surprise…. but Buffalo?

Go Bills.

My words are being read across the San Joaquin valley, and yesterday for the first time I had a sizable population from Alaska.

My words stretch out into landscapes I’ve never walked, but allow me to plan trips. It would be a kick to see where my readers live, perhaps hosting a meetup. I am much more fun and funny in person. We should really go for coffee instead of hanging out here.

I wonder what it is about my writing that transcends barriers. Maybe it’s the universality of relationships. I write a lot about them. Or perhaps my search for the perfect cup of coffee resonates with their daily search for chai.

Maybe it’s just that we all need to know we’re not alone in our search for meaning.

It also strikes me that personal narrative becomes cultural exchange. I don’t write with the intent of being a bridge, but somehow my reflections on my life become windows into the daily American experience. Sometimes I wonder if I am reaching Americans abroad because my references are so specific.

It’s the beauty of storytelling: stories travel further than we expect, carrying fragments of our lives into places we may never see, but where someone else is listening.

Again with the Waffle House

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I haven’t had Waffle House in years, so now that I have a car I’ve been three times in as many weeks. It’s not fancy food. Some people would laugh at it, but it’s always meant comfort to me. I had the Cheese-n-Eggs breakfast, which comes with grits, raisin toast and apple butter. I also got some hash browns to go, let’s not get stupid.

The waitress remembered me and it was nice to be noticed. I don’t dress up when I go to Waffle House so I’m as unmemorable as can possibly be. I’m just there to eat.

People did notice when grits went down the wrong pipe and I lost my mind coughing. I am very lucky I didn’t vomit, my chest was shaking so hard. I was embarrassed enough as is, because the choking made me turn red and tears come down my cheeks at an alarming rate. Someone asked me if I was going to live. In that moment, I wasn’t sure.

It would also be embarrassing to be taken down by grits, but I can’t think of a better way for a Southerner to go……

I stopped by Wawa for ice cream and ended up with the world’s most decadent caramel parfait. I also got something to drink for the drive home- a cherry Coke Zero.

I listened to podcasts the entire way. Pod Save America, Good Hang with Amy Poehler, Morbid, Crime Junkies…… I just did a mishmash because I’d get distracted and couldn’t remember what the people in the podcast were talking about. Focusing on the road so hard does that to me. I go deaf.

Then, when I’m not navigating in traffic I’m flipping through what seems cool.

I have listened to very little music because it tends to make me cry while I’m driving. It’s lovely when I do, because I need to get in touch with my emotions. I’m just not always in the mood to be that vulnerable, even when I’m alone.

I know the places in my mind that I go when I get in touch with my feelings, Therefore, I’m trying to avoid me at the moment.

I also think I’ve said all I can say about most situations in my life because I’m leaving on the 25th for Houston. That means a lot of getting things done while trying not to focus on all the excitement later. I don’t want to get too flustered, I just want to keep my head down.

I think that means listening to podcasts on my headphones rather than in the car. I need to do things like organize the kitchen, coupled with finding whatever it is that died in the fridge.

I have lots of Clorox wipes, and I know I’m going to need them.

I still haven’t heard anything from my apartment complex about when my new apartment will be ready. No news is good news, I suppose, but I’m still going to stop by the office and make sure I haven’t been forgotten. I know everything is in process, but I need to be reassured.

We’ve been talking in Lanagan Media Group like it’s 1990s IRC, everyone checking in with each other across time zones. Most people are in the US, but I’ve got some in Europe and Asia as well. I think the biggest time difference is 12 hours, because one of my guys is in Seoul.

Speaking of time differences, I do not like falling back. It feels more like institutionalized jet lag at this point.

It is made easier by a nice lazy breakfast around people I like, coupled with a long enough drive to really stretch out and enjoy my car. The twists and turns on the road home were exciting and the handling on the Fusion is superb.

I am still in love with my blue-blocking sunglasses, because the reds and oranges of fall pop so much more- a built in Instagram-type filter for my face.

Now, I think it’s time to rest with a movie, possibly take a quick nap. I didn’t sleep well last night, and naps are why Sunday was built.

Hood to Coast

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I can’t get the daily writing prompt to load, but it’s asking whether I like beach or mountains. I have to have both, so I choose the Hood to Coast route from Mt. Hood to Cannon Beach in Oregon.

I have so many memories of doing that drive in one day, because Dana and I loved going to Timberline Lodge and to the Pacific Ocean.

The water is always so cold; my feet would go numb in seconds and I’d still be out there splashing around, overjoyed to be enveloped by something bigger than myself.

I just got back from grabbing coffee at Royal Farms. I think it’s the best gas station coffee around here, but it’s hard to mess up medium roast with Splenda and flavoring.

I don’t have to have fancy coffee every morning, but I do need social interaction. I don’t have very many friends in Baltimore, so I have to go out of my way to talk to people.

Speaking of which, the Thanksgiving meal for my Cognitive Behavioral Group was on Wednesday. It was nice to break bread together, and to see people that I’d not seen in a few months with all my travels and theirs.

I am really starting to make friends there, but it’s going to take a while before we’re so close we’re hanging at each other’s houses. I am careful about boundaries, and want to move slowly with everyone. We’re all mentally ill and struggling with the same issues…. That’s why we’re in the same group. Everyone has their own quirks and I am waiting to see which of them line up with mine.

I also have an OKCupid profile and occasionally I’ll read something that piques my interest, but not lately. Lately, I have been working on my own house. I have sowed a lot of chaos and reaping it has not been for the faint of heart. I don’t know that I’m in a place to invite someone in right now, but it’s a pleasure to be nominated.

I would rather sit here and think about the beach and the mountains, where hopefully I could get my friends to go skiing with me and end up at a bonfire near the water. I know exactly who I see among the sparks, because none of my friends are far from my heart.

And if my stats are any indication, I’m not far from theirs, either.

“Kept” is the Key Word

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?
View all responses

I’m not sure that I’ve kept anything I’ve found long term. I move too often and don’t have a general sense of my own inventory. Things drop through the cracks. I still cannot find several important things to me after the move from Houston, but I’ve just moved on.

I can think of a few cool things I’ve found that I no longer have, though. I really miss all the rocks I collected from the Columbia River Gorge, and the next time I go to visit Bryn I’ll have to get a new one. I just like worry stones, the size you put in your pocket, so I’m not worried about getting it home.

I once found a gas station attendant shirt that said “Butch” at a Goodwill and I wore that bitch for three years straight. I got sued for false advertising, but that’s neither here nor there. I was at a club about two years after I got it and this gay man said he’d trade me his shirt for it. I was having a good time, so why not? I regretted it in the morning.

In Baltimore, I mostly find old coins, sometimes a few keys. And of course, by “old coins,” I mean they were around when I was a kid. Not exactly antique, just old. Baltimore doesn’t have a lot of treasure laying around, but it is beautiful in its own way. I’m not a fan of the brutalist architecture downtown, but I do like the fall colors and how the brown of the buildings blends into the trees.

Driving down to Virginia just blends all the fall colors together around stunning bodies of water. In order to get to Tiina’s, I passed the Inner Harbor, the Potomac, and the Rappahannock. All of them were stunning this time of year, bright red leaves dancing across the sky. I found peace and stillness to take with me to Tiina’s because even being caught in traffic was being caught in all that beauty and getting to look at it longer.

I’m still trying to think of something cool that I’ve found along my travels and kept, but the things I’ve kept I’ve usually bought. For instance, I needed sunglasses and I found the perfect no-name brand at a gas station that will be impossible to find again, so be careful and don’t lose them.

So far, I have managed to keep them in the car without taking them inside, and I consider that a victory. I also moved my spare pare of glasses into my center console, because I sometimes do forget my glasses when I’m leaving the house. I don’t think there’s a marker on my license that says I need my glasses to drive, but anything helps.

I just don’t want to be without my glasses and keeping a pair in the car is an easy way to keep me on the straight and narrow.

I found my car along the road. Aaron was driving me around in his car and we passed a dealership. I saw several cars I liked and I asked the dealer which one was the cheapest. Then, I made Aaron crawl all around it, I test drove it, and then I wrote them a check.

They had been burned before, so I had to wait at Aaron’s until my check cleared to drive home.

I would not have bought the cheapest car on the lot if it hadn’t been good looking and Aaron hadn’t approved the purchase. I’ve put some money into it since then, and I’m still happier than I’ve ever been with a car, because my Jeep didn’t have seat warmers or a backup camera.

I like my car so much I’ve already decided I’d like to keep finding them. My next purchase might be another Fusion that’s a hybrid or an all wheel drive instead. I’m not unhappy with my car, I’d just purchase a different version to add features. I think it would be cheaper than trying to swap out the engine.

I’d like to get a few more years of driving experience on my Progressive app before I commit to buying a different car, unless it’s a lateral move in which I only need a little cash. I do not want a car payment because my insurance is very high. I haven’t driven in 10 years, but I’m on track for savings by being a good driver.

I still don’t get why hard brakes are bad because sometimes things happen fast on the road. I leave plenty of space in front of me and people take advantage of that, thus hard braking to avoid a collision. Lack of planning on their part causes an emergency on mine.

I’m just going off on a tangent because I do not like how Progressive calculates my risk as a driver. I looked in the app and I had seven events of hard braking on a road trip. Six of them were my adaptive cruise control hard braking because the flow of traffic changed so suddenly, but the cruise control leaves three car spaces in front of it so that if it has to hard brake, there’s very little risk of rear-ending someone. I leave the cruise control on even in heavy traffic because it manages distances better than I can. I have no 3D vision, and I would probably be following the driver in front of me too closely.

My adaptive cruise control has taken a star from me in the Progressive app, and I am forced not to care because I wasn’t the one driving. My car was.

I am defensive about someone picking on my baby. 😉

I lean on my car so much because of those adaptive driving controls. I need the technology because again, no 3D vision. I make it where the car is doing as much of the work for me as possible. Things like blind spot assist are wonderful, and I wish I had some sort of heads up display that did the same thing. I could use a dot to alert me of obstacles upon movement.

But that is a whole other entry.

Leslie Lanagan Presents: Bag Man

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).
View all responses

When I started my job at Marylhurst University, I realized I would need a satchel. I also wanted to mark the occasion by buying something that would last me the rest of my life. It was my intention to help a small maker, and I found a leather worker on Etsy that had some of the most beautiful bags I’d ever seen.

I chose a messenger bag that looks red or brown, depending on the light. I polish it with cordovan just to accent the red that’s already there. The only problem is that it tends to make my shoulder want to drop off when it’s full, so it’s perfect for carrying a few things, but torture to put my whole life in it.

It’s so beautiful it should go in a display, but after an hour I’m begging to put it down. So maybe I should put it in a display. It would look good with my autographed spy books.

Speaking of which, the funniest thing I’ve ever heard about collecting old spies’ books is that it’s like collecting baseball cards, you just never get a rookie year.

I had to change to a Reebok backpack, but I’m hoping that I can do something to soften up the leather. So far, the polishing has made it look nice, but it’s still stiff as a board.

Trying to look at the positive on this one, because the bag is absolutely the most expensive personal item I’ve ever bought. It was more than my last desktop by a large margin. I don’t regret spending the money in the slightest, because every time I look at the bag, I remember a time in my life I really loved.

It’s more how to look at it that presents a problem. Right now, it’s stuffed in a closet somewhere.

I’m sure that my dad has wondered why I don’t carry it, and now he has the answer. It hurts.

That’s because he’s the only one in my life that would remember when I bought it. He surprised me with a work GoFundMe so I could outfit my office. The bag was the biggest ticket item for the shower.

I’d never had a work shower before, and it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.

Well, giving me life might count.

Good News

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I was rushing around thinking that I had to be packed and ready to move out on Monday. My new apartment won’t be ready for a couple more weeks, so I’ll be staying here until then. That means my expectations for what needs to be done by Friday have been slashed, so I’m taking a break.

I approved the work that has come up in my customer portal at Ford so that I can hopefully get my car back sometime soon. The portal says “Monday,” but it really depends on how fast the part I need gets from one place to another. Maybe I’ll get lucky and all they need to do is slap the part on tomorrow. I do not think I will get lucky. I’m just hoping, hopefully not too much.

I do know that they’re working on my car, though, because I get updates throughout the day on what’s been done. I have a feeling it will ride much differently with all my preventative maintenance done and the air intake hose replaced. I continue to wonder if it came on the car and was stolen at some point, or whether it was never there to begin with. I have a feeling it was never there, because the car sounded like it was tuned weird. That was probably whirring debris. The reason that my car is sitting at Ford until the hose is replaced is that a rock could go through to the engine so easily. I decided it wasn’t worth the risk to have it for one day and bring it back. It would be bad juju.

Therefore, I did not get to go to Tiina’s farm. I’m hoping to be invited again soon, because I really do want to drive out there. It was just unfortunate timing. I saw a “check engine” light and I panicked. Apparently, this is a good thing, because I could have been looking at having to pay for a new engine, and the guys at AutoZone thought it was a miracle that the car started without the hose at all.

In fact, they were pretty shocked all the way around. Like, how the hell do you lose an air intake hose?

I’m excited that my fuel economy will be fixed inasmuch as it can be for an old engine. My gas mileage on my road trip was fantastic. I just wish it was better in the city. This may be the start of something big. Who doesn’t like having to buy less gas? Although I have noticed it’s been going down lately, so that’s a good thing.

Oh, my God I just realized how bad I could have been hurt if a rock had blown out my engine on my road trip and I felt so glad I made it home in one piece, and to the dealer before I could test the gods’ patience.

Newsflash: I just had a macchiato from McCafe, and it was subpar. Thanks for playing. NEXT.

I knew I should have gone to Dunkin. I’ll fix it when I get my car. Not only that, I’ll go to the good Dunkin. The good Dunkin is closer to Target and there’s a McDonalds next door. This is handy, because I want an Egg McMuffin and good coffee…. Too bad they’re not in one restaurant.

Plus, at McDonalds there is no cute Indian woman that smiles at me when she hands me my coffee because now we recognize each other. That, too, is at Dunkin and a great perk. She even knows my order- macchiato with coconut milk, 3 pumps sugar free vanilla, 3 Splenda (it’s a large, always). I don’t know anyone that drinks Dunkin iced coffee that doesn’t get a large.

Actually, Dunkin coffee period.

It’s too cheap not to go ahead and fill up while you’re there.

Although pumpkin spice coffee won’t be around much longer at Royal Farms, so maybe I’ll head there on the way home. Pumpkin spice is a mixed bag for me. I like the flavor in my coffee, but not the overwhelming taste of pumpkin syrup. So, I get a flavored coffee and some plain creamer or milk. It’s balanced and not overly sweet.

Needing three Splenda at Dunkin is more about the bitterness of the coffee.

I’ve been taking really good sleeping medication, but I need it to wear off. Thus, getting coffee in the morning and sometimes an afternoon pickup. It just depends on whether the ADHD or the autism is driving the bus. I judge by how my brain feels. It’s definitely a spectrum

Right now I’m feeling nice. It’s time to lean back for a few more minutes and plan the attack on the next room now that the kitchen and living room are straight (mostly- I have to put in some laundry that got missed in the flood, like my throw blanket). The last real task is my office, because there’s more laundry in here plus getting my desk straight again. But I’m encouraged at how fast I was able to clean everything else.

I have my bed and my desk in the small bedroom because I like feeling warm and cozy. I also like the idea of having a combination bedroom/den in the master that’s just as comfortable. I don’t like to sleep in the same bed every night. It’s fun to trade off because both mattresses have a different feel and I can choose based on the vibe.

I wish Aaron and his 3D printer were going to be around when I move. It would be nice to have some shelves and things like that. Maybe it’s time to buy my own 3D printer, who knows. A Bambu wouldn’t be that expensive and I already have a Raspberry Pi to run it independently of anything else. It’s an idea, anyway, because those little plastic parts sound fun to customize for myself. Aaron was making white columns when I left Bastrop, so I’m certain that a Bambu could handle wall sconces or shelf holder upper thingies.

It seems like a fun hobby to get into, especially if my friends wanted things made and just sent me the files/money to buy filament. That would at least keep it in use, because I know I would go on a tear in the beginning, and then my use would level off because I stopped thinking of things that could be made out of plastic.

What I really want is to use Aaron’s printer, but then he has to ship the finished products to me, etc. More trouble than it’s worth for more than one or two projects. I do know I would use it more than that.

I feel like I’m slacking on the laundry, even though I’m not. I’ve done a lot of work today. I deserve to sit here and catch my breath. It’s early yet, so I know I will catch a second wind. After I finish this entry, I might try to catch a power nap. I just had a coffee, so it should kick in well before my 20 minute alarm.

I have always drunk coffee before power naps, because you are only tired for so long. You just need to sleep until your hands start shaking. 😉

I’m really glad I’m doing this cleaning thing in manageable chunks rather than all at once in a mad dash for the finish line. I am calm because it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to show the maintenance crew how much work they have to do on my apartment.

The answer is, “a lot, but not because I lived here. This place has been a dumpster fire from day one.” I went on vacation/bereavement for three whole weeks and came back to an apartment that hadn’t been touched. I hope that I’m not being a glutton for punishment by signing another lease here, but I think that there was fundamentally something wrong with the apartment being on the first floor- that it opened it up to problems that a second floor wouldn’t have. There was literally ground water coming up through the floor in my hallway.

Three times in 11 mos, sewage has backed up into my toilet and bathtub.

Again, hoping against hope that the new building is better, because I really don’t have the energy to move more than .1 miles or so. The apartment above me stayed empty for so long that I’m disappointed I couldn’t have it. But I think my best move is trying for a different building entirely. I can at least check for the things that drive me crazy in this one, like water pressure in the kitchen, a working cold water tap in the bathroom sink, etc.

I feel like the universe is testing me right now, because I was supposed to have my car to do all these errands, and I don’t. I’m going to have to work it out like I used to until the gods smile upon me. That makes it harder to do everything, and now I realize by just how much. I’d forgotten how much I actually needed a car to haul my stuff around, and how just driving somewhere saves a ton of time vs. waiting for the bus.

I feel grateful I was able to buy my car and get humbled quickly, that this was a profound gift to literally propel me forward. I used birthday money from Angela and part of my inheritance from my mother to buy the car and get it serviced so that it will last me quite a while. I’m even thinking about spray coating the bottom so that the salt doesn’t tear it up as bad. It’s not something I can do myself, but I want to keep the car as long as I can. Letting it rust out is on the bottom of my to-do list.

I’m all about protectant for the paint, glass, vinyl, leather, etc. I have to learn about undercarriage coating because Aaron has already said it’s worth it. He is also looking out on how I can get this car to last, because between the two of us we can figure it out. I love the layout of my car so much that I’m not even opposed to replacing the engine if it needed it, because I would rather have that than a car payment.

But that’s looking too far into the future, because newer cars have even better technology than mine and I want to wait until they’re a few model years old before I start looking. Let someone else take the hit, especially since I can get a mechanic to take a look before I buy anything.

Aaron and I really did a bang-up job shopping, and he told me that he loved my car “except for the rotary dial shifter.” He said he missed having something to really hold onto. I said, “I miss having a stick shift, but I’m adjusting. I am so much happier in heavy traffic.” We both lamented lack of a stick shift, but we also love the automatics we have.

Technically, I can drive the transmission manually with paddle shifters. I am sure it would take me quite some time to learn, but it might be fun. I lot of the cars I’ve tested over the years have been “autostick,” but I’ve never gotten the hang of it. Going to an empty parking lot with the owner’s booklet in tow sounds like a good idea.

But for the most part, I really like being able to control things with one button.

The backup camera is worth its weight in gold, and I would have been saved a lot of heartache in high school if they existed. I’m so excited to have much, much fewer blind spots and an alarm that will go off if anything gets close to the car.

It makes me feel less nervous about driving than I ever have. Not comfortable enough to take passengers, most of the time, but getting there. Tiina and her kids put up with my terrible driving (and she would know me anywhere).

It’s a kick that everybody wanted to go in my car because it was clean and I didn’t have to shuffle anything around. I’ve said this before, but I used to keep all kinds of stuff in my car, letting stuff build up until I got the detailers to throw all the trash away a few times a year. I am reformed, because I just didn’t care enough about my car to keep it nice and shiny. And believe me, it’s not because it’s new. It’s that I always want it to look this good.

I have learned that cars like mine really do not age, because they have classic lines and colors. Mine is dark grey with a black interior. Keeping it polished will keep it looking fresh, like I don’t need to buy a new car because this one still looks like I just bought it.

I just don’t want to lose pride of ownership over time, because that will lead me to a relapse in which “let me move some stuff around” becomes a constant refrain. Yes, I left a few soda cans in the car on my road trip, but I went and got it washed and vacuumed while there were three cans on the floor and not 20.

My backseat is no longer a water bottle graveyard. My mother would be so proud.

And in fact, the backseat is one of the things I like best about the car, because people are really able to stretch out. The backseat passengers also have a separate place to plug in their devices (though I need to buy an adapter). It would be a wonderful car for Uber if I was interested in driving people around. But I need to be alert for myself.

Ok, so Kara (service advisor) is trying to get my car back to me on Friday morning. That’s perfect, because I’ll have enough time to grab my car before the people come to inspect my apartment. I hope the schedule isn’t tight, because I’ll have to choose being home over the car.

It won’t be the end of the world if I have to wait until Saturday or Monday, but I am very much hoping that Kara is true to her word. I know things happen that cause unforeseen delays, but this is a very bad time for me not to have it.

I keep thinking I should have waited to bring it in, and then I think about how often I could have destroyed my engine without that air intake hose and I shudder.

Well, I meant how high the chance was…. You can only destroy an engine once.

I think I’ve had enough of a break to start organizing my office while watching something good on Netflix.

I’m currently binging “The Diplomat.”

No spoilers.

My Car is In the Shop

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I didn’t go on my morning coffee run to Dunkin because I dropped my car off for service. Something is wrong with the EVAP sensor, and it is the damndest thing… My air intake hose is missing. I think it must have been stolen off of my car, because Ford would have noticed it if it had been missing when they changed the oil. The only way that is possible is if I left it unlocked, and I might’ve. Who knows? I am still getting to know the car and could have spaced it. All I know is that I have never popped the hood and removed anything myself.

It’s crazy how fast I have become attached to driving, as if riding the bus doesn’t enter my thought process anymore. I will have to arrange a ride to my Cognitive Behavioral Health group if I do not get my car back by Wednesday, because I cannot call Metro for transportation day of- I must call or register online the day before.

If I get my car back tonight or in the morning, I’m driving out to see Tiina in Stafford because she has the day off work. We had such a good time in Baltimore that I’m eager to see her and her “progeny in tow.” I will be really disappointed if I don’t get to go, but I want my car to be safe for me, as well.

I am practically itching because the shop opens in four minutes. Surely I will have a better idea of how long they’ll have it by sometime today. I need my Apple CarPlay. 🙂

I cannot be trusted to drive without it, because Apple Maps is so handy. I have Waze, too, but Apple Maps works with my watch, alerting me by touch and voice when it’s time to turn. And, in Baltimore, I rarely know where I am going. I have lived here long enough to see the map, not explore it. Plus, right now I’m on my own time and can drive when traffic is least. I prefer it, and also I’ve set my GPS to no toll roads. That means I have driven on a lot of two-lane highways that are relaxing and windy, so much preferable to a straight line with trees on both sides the whole way.

I got to go through some of the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen, and because it was raining or threatening to rain the whole weekend, it was not the time to get out with my camera. I didn’t have warm enough clothes to get wet. I should have brought my waterproof pants, but I forgot I even had them. #facepalm

When it’s cold and rainy, I like to wear lined waterproof pants. When the winter really sets in, I add a pair of leggings and wool socks under them. I also wear two or three layers on top, so that most of the time I’m good in a hoodie/rugby jacket with a vest over it. If it jumps down to really cold and I’m going to be outside for an extended period, I have hiking boots and a peacoat.

My hiking boots will be almost too warm with wool socks, but good prep is essential for bad weather.

My car absolutely died from a loose connection on the battery. I was at least wearing a warm fleece and sweat pants, but if it had been any colder I would have been screwed. The car can only help you so much when the heater doesn’t work. Luckily, there was just enough power that after about half an hour, it started again. I took it to AutoZone, where I had the battery checked. They fixed the loose connection and made sure it didn’t need replacing. Luckily, it was just the connection.

Ok, Kara just called and I have a Thursday appointment to get everything done that’s critical, but neither job is too expensive. I just need to wait until they get the part in stock, which will take two days. I was going to do the job myself, but there were so many different versions on Amazon that I had no idea which one I needed, and neither did the guy at AutoZone.

I’m stuck here until at least Thursday, because the part I need doesn’t come in until then. They told me I needed to keep the car there, because they could give it to me and a rock could come through that air gap and cause $5,000′ worth of damage.

No, thank you.

So, I tried to chase down a rent car so I could still go to Tiina’s tomorrow, but no dice. I went to two Enterprise locations, and neither one of them had cars. I just gave up and came home. There’s plenty of stuff to do around here.

Right now, that aim is to talk to you so I don’t melt down and burn out. This is really stressful because I’ve gotten into a routine since my car arrived, and now it’s all in disarray. For instance, I didn’t go get my coffee this morning. I didn’t leave the house until Kara told me she had a rental car reservation for me, and she told me the wrong location. So, I went to the right location and they still didn’t have cars.

Life seems a bit smaller, but I can walk to the gym. I haven’t done that this week, and it would be absolutely grueling and fun at the same time. I can get my mind off things.

But again, I am flabbergasted at how fast this disorienting feeling came on.

I’m oriented towards doing the same thing every day. Because of my ADHD, sometimes I will get a wild hair to do something. Not often. Most of the time, I most resemble Bert from Sesame Street. I am very happy with my pigeon and bottle cap collection.

Hrmph.

I don’t mean to seem like a grump. I just do. But I am not, in fact, a grump. I just get introverted and set in my ways. I’ve lived alone for so long that I might be feral.

Driving has definitely put me in a better mood because my adrenaline is higher during even short trips. But I live for longer ones. Opening my car up on the highway gives me great pleasure, because I can set the Adaptive Cruise control and the car will slow itself if the traffic slows down, and speed up to my setting automatically without having to hit any buttons.

I keep talking about my car because I’m so excited to have it. Pride of ownership goes a long way.

Unless my car is in the shop.

The Road Trip, Part II: Oh my God… Peanut

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I ended up leaving Baltimore around 0500 on Friday, which was absolutely perfect. I didn’t run into any traffic anywhere, because the only thing even approaching a “large city” on I-81 to Syracuse is Scranton, PA. I did not stop and take pictures, but I thought about it…. I just didn’t know where to go to get the shots I wanted and nothing was open.

It was also raining, so I really didn’t want to get out of the car. I only stopped once, and that was to get an energy drink. I’d filled up with gas the night before. And, of course that was the moment my car decided to throw an engine code. Everything was running fine and nothing was freaking out in the app, so I decided to keep going. “Aaron’s a mechanic,” I reasoned. I could go back home and have Ford tell me how much it was going to cost, or Aaron and I could try DIY….. Meaning he works on my car while I stand there and hold things.

It turned out to be the EVAP sensor in the fuel tank. It’s expensive to fix, or you can squirt some WD-40 on the inner fuel door and see if that works. It didn’t, so I’ll take it in for maintenance. I will say that having the “Check Engine” light on does nothing for my blood pressure, but I’m assured that the car will function no problem until I can get it repaired. I got 34.5 MPG on the way home, not bad for a mid-size sedan.

I have a 2019 Ford Fusion SEL, and I thought I couldn’t be more impressed with it. I finally figured out what “Blind Spot Assist” is….. A little dot appears in the side mirror when a car can’t be seen.

So, engine light notwithstanding, the entire trip was a raging success and I love my car. I listened to podcasts the entire way, up and back.

Well, I sort of listened…. I was mostly oohing and ahhing over the fall colors. Driving over the hills in New York is a singular experience, and it was breathtaking.

I finally arrived in one piece, and stumbled into the biggest Halloween celebration I’ve ever seen in my life. This was not trick-or-treating. This was shopping. There was every single kind of chocolate I could possibly imagine. It was everywhere…. But it wasn’t just chocolate. It was fruit juice and gummy snacks and chips and cereal bars and popcorn…. Seriously, I have seen stores less well-stocked.

It was like being in my own version of Willy Wonka, lost in a world of pure imagination. I could think of nothing but peanut M&Ms.

Oh my God…. peanut.

Progeny in Tow

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Tiina arrived at my house toting two of her kidlets. They asked me to drive them to dinner and I can practically hear my father’s nerves rising… Don’t worry, it went fine. We went to The Chop Tank, where we had some of the best food I’ve had in ages. I was so relieved that Tiina said what a great restaurant it was several times, because I wanted to show her and the kids some fun.

They live about 50 miles south of DC, but I can’t remember exactly where. Far enough that it was still far when I lived there.

We’re going to build a treehouse soon. I’m so excited. I’m making local friends…. Sort of. We used to live a lot closer and I moved before I went out to her house. So now it’s a lot further, and we both love to drive.

In fact, I was supposed to go out there today, but Tiina had an errand so far north of Baltimore that she thought it would take her until dinner to get back to my area, but in fact we were seated by around 3:30. None of us had lunch, so it was perfect.

Tiina’s daughter ordered a steak bigger than she was.

My eyes were bigger than my stomach in ordering, so I brought most of a steak salad home.

When Tiina gets home, her husband is going to have some great food, because they had a lobster roll, steak, a burger, crab dip, and bread.

Most of the reason I brought my salad home was because of that crab dip. I kept eating it despite telling myself to stop. I just hadn’t had anything that decadent in ages.

The weather was nice, if a bit chilly. It was plenty sunny to be out and about in a sweatshirt and jeans, but it got colder the more I drank ice water and Diet Coke. I always forget about that part of it……

It was too cold for the ducks to come all the way up from the water, so the kids didn’t get to see them.

But I know they’ll be back.

Tiina loved the restaurant, and it felt happier than I thought I got.

The First Step

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I have called maids, and will be scheduling at least monthly for now, if not weekly. I can slowly take over a system once habits are in place, but I can’t just wing it. My executive function will fail within days. It’s why being married kept me from seeing that I was autistic. I wasn’t remembering to do any household tasks; I was mirroring my then-wife. Demand avoidance is helped with social masking because you’re getting encouragement from someone when you remember to do something, and their social cues that they need you to clean are made easier by them getting up to do something, reminding you that you should be busy.

It’s why I’m considering moving in with housemates. It’s not feasible financially for me to move anywhere outside of the state of Maryland unless it’s to another state with Medicaid expansion, which rules out Texas and thus living with family. Once I get my disability case straightened out, I will have a little more freedom…. or less, if I choose it. Supervised housing is an option I’m also considering, because again, I need a safety net.

I also have the opportunity to be a voice for those who have to live in those situations.

I don’t want to fall through the cracks medically or psychologically, because it’s so obvious to me that I need help in different areas of my life. The one thing I don’t have is anxiety about writing, because people tend to listen kindly, as if we’re both just having coffee on the back deck.

And even if they didn’t respond kindly, I think I would still have a need to explore my world the way I do, trying to understand the role I play in it. I am doing my best to make this a bad chapter, not a bad story.

Maybe one day the liar and the betrayer will have a chance to meet without fighting it so hard. I doubt it, but I don’t want to close myself off from it except for in the near future. I need time to heal, to learn how to be a decent person all over again; the last thing I would want to do in having a new relationship is old patterns.

But we’re both going through tremendous life changes that will bring about a rewiring. I don’t know that Aada will rise above past hurts to rebuild, nor am I confident that she should yet. I need something to bring to the table first. Right now I cannot handle my own life.

Sometimes in life we have these catalysts for change that we need, but we don’t know why we need them until reflection on the consequences of our actions. I need to get some perspective on the last 12 years- move away from them entirely so that my life isn’t internet-based.

That part of it is bad for me, because it sets off my adrenaline and cortisol in a way that in-person conversation doesn’t. If Aada never wants to meet on the ground, then I am glad that our relationship is over. I need it to have a different pace… lazy, even. But Aada’s assessment of the situation is that I only write to manipulate her and that she has no interest in friendship with me. I have heard worse and she’s still come back later, which is why I have no idea whether this relationship is truly over or not.

There is a limit to what she can forgive, and we will see in time whether I have reached it. There was a limit to what I could forgive in the moment, but at heart there’s nothing she could do. I just needed time, and I hope that’s the case for her, too.

As for this all being a manipulation, I don’t think so. I’ve been the same person I’ve been since 2013, startlingly self aware and realizing I was making mistakes without being able to make myself stop. Writing about that and holding myself accountable makes me feel safe, so that five or 10 years down the line I have a reliable record of what really happened that doesn’t blame anyone else.

I love myself enough not to lie to me.

The reasons the maids are the first step is so that I can get a system in place to come back into the light. To feel comfortable letting people stay at my house (soon), which still may involve checking into a hotel for a night if my maintenance guys come to finish the demo.

Next steps are moving to a more comfortable place, but not before my Houston trip. That’s all the more reason to get a system in place- I’d like my house to be spotless when I come home.

It’s all about support for neurodivergence, because I lost my cool with Aada and I just don’t want to be like that anymore. I need to quiet all the little frustrations in my life so that they don’t build into big ones.

I see how I do want to walk in the world- humble, gracious, warm… all the things I haven’t been while I’ve been trapped in the internet. I claimed not to have time, because Aada wasn’t pressuring me for responses. If anything, she couldn’t get me to shut up. 😉

I couldn’t make anything else matter in my life but Aada, which sounds like such a weird thing to say unless you know the whole story. Those words would frighten even her, but they are no less true. I would sit and think about all the things I had going on in my life vs. everything going on in hers and my life paled in comparison.

I felt like I was very much “Player,” from Carmen Sandiego on Netflix… the Internet friend that has all the support and the answers but is never physically in the same place with her.

It’s all of those little things that I miss… but I think that my best bet is to start thinking about a beautiful house with or without housemates somewhere in Baltimore or the DMV.

(DC, Maryland, Virginia- what we call the city of Washington that spans all three. If you live in DC, you say that you’re from “The District” and you get irrationally angry with people who live in Virginia or Maryland claiming they live in DC.)

I don’t want to move over the Maryland line because everything is in their hospital systems, but it remains to be seen whether I will return from Baltimore. It just depends on what kind of deals I can get, and that’s what makes me the most nervous. I don’t have my own income. I have money. That doesn’t generally mix with renting places. So it’s a discussion with everyone in my life as to what my next move should be.

But it’s finally a discussion I’m ready to have, because I am seeing that I do have a disability that affects not only me, but everyone else to a large degree. I do not think that I would have hurt Aada had I not been in autistic meltdown because I had no coping mechanisms for it. I was so emotionally dysregulated that I acted horribly to someone I do indeed love, despite the evidence.

My adrenaline and cortisol betrayed both of us because I was so unhinged. I didn’t think about danger or how she was feeling. The only thing I can do to save our relationship is to be dead honest about that because she’d forgive the truth. She would not forgive excuses.

Autism does not mean that I am not responsible for my anger. Autism is what takes anger and turns it into red mist rage before you can get a handle on it. You turn into a different person because your brain chemicals are so hot. It’s what turned legitimate displeasure with a friend that could have been worked out over time into a disaster. Autism and ADHD rob me of time to think about my reactions, so I get a lot of time to go back over them.

I just have to see the silver lining in the storm, which is that this is a chance to regather all the friends I’ve ignored. I cannot believe Aaron Brown is actually coming all the way up here, and I’ve been given an invitation to see my family at the end of the month. Those two things are more exciting than it’s been around here in years.

But the maids are the first step.

Me Encanta Aprender -or- Rakastan Oppimista

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Describe one habit that brings you joy.
View all responses

My habit is to wake up in the morning and get on Duolingo immediately. I’m on a 99-day streak and doing well… although I’m really hard on myself when I miss a question. I hate when I see red in either Spanish or Finnish. But my love of learning them comes from two very different places.

I am originally from Texas, where I was surrounded by so many Latinx friends I struggled to understand. I chose Spanish as my second language in 10th grade to try and bridge the gap. The summer that school year ended, my father was transferred to a church in Sugar Land, Texas, which offered mission trips to Reynosa. It was then that I got my first taste of immersion, because even though I wasn’t an expert, I knew more Spanish than just about everyone else.

There was one other person who was relatively fluent, but he and I did not spend much time together. Therefore, I was the one that acted as translator for most of the other adults. It’s how I was chosen to preach the Sunday sermon for Vacation Bible School, though I didn’t know how to say much. That changed the more I visited, because I went to Reynosa during every break I was taking Spanish in class. The last trip was the most fun because my favorite phrase didn’t have to be “speak slower, please….” although I am now back to it because I’d forgotten just how fast Spanish speakers talk.

Luckily, Duolingo has a button to slow down playback or I would not have made it this far. I am also somewhat impressed with the AI, because I do not believe it should be used to create the lessons themselves, but it is helpful that by speaking into my microphone someone is listening to my pronunciation and will not pass me to the next level until it is correct.

Because being in Mexico was so much more beneficial than learning in class (and I assume, Duolingo), I hope to make it back sometime soon. Reynosa has changed drastically since the last time I was there, and though no one would remember me it feels somewhat like “going home for the weekend.” Ensenada would feel the same way, because I got to spend a week there in my younger years and still think about living there when I need to escape reality.

My journey with Finnish is a bit more roundabout.

I was emotionally abused as a kid by someone with a birthday complex. The house couldn’t be decorated for Christmas until her birthday was over, she claimed the entire month of December as her birthday, etc. So, when I realized that this friend couldn’t be in my life any longer, I wondered what I would do to celebrate that day instead- to make it feel like there was less of a hole in my heart. I got on the Google machine and looked up what other holidays were on that date, and Finnish Independence Day was available. I go nuts for it as a result, which is ridiculous because I didn’t have any Finnish family or friends at the time.

I still don’t, but that’s another story for another day.

Duolingo’s language capability is not as good in Finnish as it is in Spanish, but I stick with it even though there’s no AI for pronunciation. I find that being able to read in Finnish is impressive enough. I’m further ahead in my Spanish studies than Finnish, but I flip between the two often. They’re so different that you cannot mix them up. And in fact, the Finnish language is so hard to learn that even fluent speakers will commiserate with you.

One of the most exciting days I’ve had in recent memory was when I was having coffee with my friend Tiina. She put her mother on the phone for me and we spoke in Finnish for a few minutes. I’m sure I didn’t say anything earth shattering or clever, but it meant a lot to me to be understood in that language.

I don’t feel that type of excitement when speaking Spanish because it’s been a part of my life since I was a child, as native to me as English because Houston is full of Spanish-speakers. I have gotten to practice my Spanish hundreds of times with many different people.

I have spoken Finnish once.

I am sure that there are a lot of Finnish people that would say “once is enough” after they hear me.

But the title in both languages is “I Love to Learn.” That will never go away, so perhaps sticking with both is the answer. I am much more likely to run into a Spanish speaker in the US, but who knows where my travels will take me? I know I want to go to Helsinki because my heart bleeds “sinivalkoinen,” the blue of Finnish skies and the white of their snow.

I think that I would be just as at home there as I felt in Mexico because of this one joke:

How can you pick out the most extroverted Finn?
It’s the one who will look at your shoes when you talk to them.

So maybe I don’t have any Finnish blood, but I certainly have a Finnish personality at times. It’s a place to escape when the fiesta gets too loud.