Traffic and BBQ

This morning on my way to work, I cut off this Lexus as I was trying to get in the lane that lead to the highway. I'm not in the habit of cutting people off like that, and by no means am I one of those drivers that feels entitled to this lane or that lane. But something in the way the Lexus honked at me presented a challenge.

It wasn't a "hey, I'm here so watch out" honk. It was more of a "fuck you, bitch" honk. So I kept inching my way into the lane. Because that's what I do when I get the FU honk.

Part of me wanted him to hit me. Just a tiny part. But it would've been my fault and I can't afford the troubles that accompany a traffic accident. When he passed me on the next lane, he honked again. Another "fuck you, bitch" honk. And then I was glad that I didn't buckle because I chose the right person to cut off. He was an asshole.

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I'm feeling content right now. Matt just came home with our friend, Richard, and they're going to take advantage of this awesome nice weather and barbeque.

We used to barbeque at least twice a week. This was about two years ago. To me, BBQ-ing is the signature of happier times. No matter what a shit day I'd had, if I saw the garage door open with a BBQ pit going, I knew it was going to be a good night.

It's an event every time. Something about the proactivity. The goal.

I don't even care about the food. It's what happens during the preparation that creates the atmosphere for the evening and makes you want to break out the camera.

I've missed it.