Yesterday I remembered why I don't drive around town. My boss said to me in the morning, "I need you to go pick up a piece from the Jessup building on campus for repairs."
A simple sounding task. It would have been simpler if I was a student and familiar with the university. It also would have been simpler if many streets in Iowa City weren't closed due to construction. It would have been less of a task if I had ever driven on the streets between my work and campus, but as I invariably walk or bike everywhere, navigating this one-way street riddled maze in Nick's meticulously clean, and well-loved Lexus SUV was nothing short of nerve-wracking. As I drove around, I wondered how many of the other cars that were making my life more difficult with their presence were driven by people who easily could have walked or biked to their destinations.
Oh, and also it was pouring down rain. (I would note here that although a light dampening of rainwater damages art, it does not harm people.)
Suffice it to say the rather large and surprisingly heavy piece of art, the car, and I all made it back to the mansion intact, but I was so keyed-up by the end of the ordeal that a customer startled me a little later and I jumped so violently I lost my grip on the wire I was tightening and left a long, shallow gash in my arm with the needle-nose pliers.
But, I have the day off today to hang out with my visiting family. Yesterday, I believe my client and I put the finishing touches on her website, so I should have a truly labor free day. I believe my family and I will explore wineries and breweries, and perhaps take a (walking) tour of Iowa City and campus.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
Enjoying That Place Between Being a Kid, and Having Kids
Last night Brian and I blew off dinner in lieu of consuming cookies and beer until we weren't hungry anymore.
A Feat
Yesterday, I accomplished something I'm a little proud of. I went to a client's house and from there to a part of town I'd never seen before (I didn't even know it was there, actually), found the place I was looking for, and then came home. I didn't follow a set route to get there or back, and I did all this without ever losing my sense of direction.
I will admit there were a couple rocky moments when I turned out of a neighborhood onto a street that was not perpendicular to the road I'd been driving on, but rather more like a 62° angle. All the other streets that branched off around me weren't aligned either. The people who constructed Iowa City didn't seem to know about the simple concept of a grid. But, despite these odds, I made it through.
Now, you might be thinking that I'm a little pathetic if I can't even venture into part of my own town without getting turned around, but let me defend myself by saying that I am struggling against the odds here. I grew up in the shadow of the Catalina Mountains. Off in the distance reared the Tucson Mountains, and the Tortolitas. When I moved to Flagstaff, the peaks were always hugely present outside my window, and on the four-hour drive between Tucson and Flagstaff, there was never a smooth horizon. Mountains were not just scenery for me, they were a fact of life.
In Iowa there are no mountains. None. There aren't even any overgrown hills. The landscape just rolls and rolls and things like trees and houses consistently block out the view of the low, low horizon.
Needless to say, as I grew up my sense of direction logically based itself on landmarks. When I first arrived here in Iowa, where there are no landmarks, I found myself instantly disoriented by, say, glancing quickly over my shoulder, or walking into a building and then walking out again a little later.
What I discovered during my little foray into the unknown realm of crooked streets and new parts of town - I've made some progress. (Although I will also note that yesterday my combined driving distance was less than six miles...)
I will admit there were a couple rocky moments when I turned out of a neighborhood onto a street that was not perpendicular to the road I'd been driving on, but rather more like a 62° angle. All the other streets that branched off around me weren't aligned either. The people who constructed Iowa City didn't seem to know about the simple concept of a grid. But, despite these odds, I made it through.
Now, you might be thinking that I'm a little pathetic if I can't even venture into part of my own town without getting turned around, but let me defend myself by saying that I am struggling against the odds here. I grew up in the shadow of the Catalina Mountains. Off in the distance reared the Tucson Mountains, and the Tortolitas. When I moved to Flagstaff, the peaks were always hugely present outside my window, and on the four-hour drive between Tucson and Flagstaff, there was never a smooth horizon. Mountains were not just scenery for me, they were a fact of life.
In Iowa there are no mountains. None. There aren't even any overgrown hills. The landscape just rolls and rolls and things like trees and houses consistently block out the view of the low, low horizon.
Needless to say, as I grew up my sense of direction logically based itself on landmarks. When I first arrived here in Iowa, where there are no landmarks, I found myself instantly disoriented by, say, glancing quickly over my shoulder, or walking into a building and then walking out again a little later.
What I discovered during my little foray into the unknown realm of crooked streets and new parts of town - I've made some progress. (Although I will also note that yesterday my combined driving distance was less than six miles...)
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