Huzzah for Huzzah!!!

Alright folks, I hope you've been doing your work on getting the word out with "grody," because I'm about to double your workload if you haven't finished that job yet.

That's right, we're bringing back HUZZAH!

Pronunciation: huh-ZAAAAAAAAH!

Use: an expression of joy, approval, happiness (much like hooray, but cooler to say)

Use it. Liberally. Already I have begun the spread in Boston, when I used it last night after I enjoyed the free performance of The Taming of the Shrew on the Boston Common.

As I said in the grody post, get on board now and use it before everyone does and you're just a bandwagon-jumper.

Feeling Endeared Yet?

OK, I think the posting thing is fixed. No idea what happened there...I'm going to blame it on the blog gnomes.

So, I'm reading this really interesting research article the other day about professional boundaries, which is a hot topic in the helping professions. It's not a far stretch - any profession that involves you working with others to improve their lives could easily spark some issues where the line between the professional and personal relationships begin to blur. When you work to improve the lives of others, you give a little piece of yourself to make things happen, and if you don't then you come across as insincere or you don't do a good job. But by giving away that little piece of yourself, you've allowed the boundaries between your life and the lives of those you are helping to blur a little bit. This isn't a problem until you start working with someone who requires a lot of yourself, or someone whose problem becomes so meaningful to you that you can't help but give a lot of yourself. They teach you a lot about setting your professional boundaries in schools that teach to the helping professions, and it's heavily emphasized in any practical experience you get during your education.

Anyway, this article was addressing what people in helping professions define as actions that are acceptable (within professional boundaries), and what these same people actually do in their practice. I wasn't surprised to find that many people said certain activities (say, hugging a client) were unacceptable but still had themselves crossed the line. That's the thing about boundaries - they're great in the abstract, but when you get in the moment it's hard to put them into practice...and sometimes if you put them into practice you might not be doing the best job you can be. Imagine you're a doctor and you've just told a child they have cancer. Do you hug them and tell them you're going to fight it with them? Or, if that one doesn't get you, what if you just told that same child they're now in remission and their face lights up and they jump at you? Can you hug them now? But a hug can be a really touchy thing. Now add into the equation that kid's mother. You're a female doctor. Is it OK to hug her when she reaches out to you? Now, still a female doctor, can you hug that child's dad? It gets stickier and stickier.

One of the activities specifically in question in this research article was using terms of endearment. I know a lot of women find it derrogatory when men they don't know well call them "Honey." I used to hate it in high school when my friend's dads would do it. But here's the thing: I use that word like it's a pronoun. That and "Sweetie." I didn't realize how much I did it until one day in college when my friend Robin pointed it out to the group of new members in my sorority. "Hi, I'm Kristy," I said, "and I'm really bad with names. If I don't remember your name right away, it's not because I don't like you, it's because names go in one ear and out the other." "Don't worry about it girls," Robin said with a laugh, "Even if she does remember your name, she'll probably call you 'Honey' or 'Sweetie' anyway." I was shocked by her statement, but then found myself calling everyone, including people whose names I knew well, Honey and Sweetie.

I still do this today. Jay and I rarely call each other by our first names - Honey usually suffices. But on a recent vacation together I found myself talking to my friend Laura and addressing her as "Honey"...and Jay called out from the other room to see what I needed. Whoops! How does this happen? I'd attribute it to being raised in the South, but both of my parents come from the Northeast and so many of the traditional Southern colloquialisms were not used in my house on a regular basis. On the other hand, there is something to be said for environment - I obviously didn't live exclusively in my house, so perhaps I picked these things up from school/the mall/my friends. I do still say "Y'all," after all.

But I'm reading this article and I'm wondering...do I offend people with my terms of endearment, or do I get away with it by sliding in a little bit of a twang and being a girl? Is it motherly when I do it or disrespectful? And how often do I still do it? I began to want to carry around a microphone to record my daily interactions so that I could play them back at a later time (when I could be more conscious of my speech) and check how often I use terms of endearment as pronouns. Then, of course, I remembered how much I hate the sound of my recorded voice, and I backed out of that plan.

Recently my car had a fight with an unexpected large chunk of concrete on the interstate and lost. I pulled off of of the highway as soon as possible and right into the first place available - a car dealership. Getting out of the car in my work clothes, I muttered to myself that I could probably expect a swarm of men in just a few minutes, either trying to sell me a car since my current one was in disrepair, or trying to help me change my tire (which I already know how to do). Sure enough, as soon as I sat on the ground with the jack and started lifting the car, a man stopped by to ask if I needed help, and then (jokingly) suggested that I trade my car in and not worry about the whole changing the tire thing but instead get a new car. I obligingly laughed and let him know that I was already trying to figure out how how I was going to pay for a new rim and tire, much less a new car. I then continued to change the tire as he got paged for a phone call. Almost immediately after he left, a man came up behind me, said "Here, honey" and grabbed the jack handle out of my hand and continued to change my tire for me. I was monumentally offended - not because I thought he thought I didn't know how to change a tire, but because he called me "Honey." (Hey, if you want to change my tire for me in the heat and humidity while I watch and my nice clothes remain unmessed all in the name of chivalry, I'm not going to argue.) I felt belittled. It's almost as if, to me, the "Honey" implied that I didn't know how to change a tire...because I'm a woman who needs taking care of. Now, of course, I don't mean that implication when I call other people "Honey," so I can't imagine why I would think others are implying that to me when they use that term towards me.

I use terms of endearment like "Honey" and "Sweetie" at work all the time with the kids. When you see a large number of people in a short time, it's difficult to remember what name matches what face. Terms of endearment help cover up any uncertainty you might have. I'm careful to whom I apply them though - anything goes with girls, but with boys it's a little tougher. "Buddy" works well with little boys, or sometimes if I need to get them to smile I'll make a joke and ask them if I can call them "Love Poodle" or "Schmoopie." But any sort of term of endearment to a teenage boy and things start to get a little inappropriate, so I monitor that pretty closely. I guess this could be a sign that, over the years, I've unconsciously developed an internal monitoring system that prevents me from using terms of endearment in inappropriate ways. That's a bit of a relief.

In the end, I suppose one of the reasons I use these terms so ubiquitously is because - as a general rule - I'm a fairly friendly gal. I really do feel a fondness for my friends - both very close friends with whom I share everything and those I see on a more infrequent and impersonal basis. In my book, everyone's good until they prove otherwise, and forgiveness is doled out fairly easily. Thus, everyone is in one way or another endeared to me, and thus everyone gets a little bit of love here and there via my own special version of pronouns. And ultimately, isn't that what the world needs now? Love, sweet love? =)

Guess I'm just doing my part to spread world peace.

Trying to fix it....

Apparently my blog has been MIA. I'm hoping this post fixes it. And then I'm hoping I'll be inspired/have the time to write a new one soon. But let's fix the old one first, OK?

=)

Rockin' Tha Suburbz

Yeah, I know. I've been MIA for a while. This is mostly because I have relocated myself from the hip Davis Square area of Somerville to Suburbia, aka Norwood, MA.

Wait, having a hard time finding Boston on that second map? Look up in the top right corner. Oooooooooohhhh...there it is. Yeah, Somerville is just north of Boston. Right on the T and everything. Norwood is a fair distance south and west. We still have the commuter rail where I live, so I could get into town without a car if needed, but most people drive.

So many of my friends have commented on my "selling out" and moving to the 'burbz. But LET ME TELL YOU, my friends, suburbia is the place for me. Behold, the top 5 list why I love (at least my little segment of) suburbia:

5. The post office is open until 7 every night, except Saturdays when it's open until 3.

4. My neighbors are all really friendly and nice, and are not 19-year-old college students who will throw "ragers" every weekend. It's a family neighborhood. (Yes, I recognize that listing this makes me sound
old.)

3. My commute is 3 miles shorter and 15 minutes faster; PLUS it's mostly highway...no more of this stop-and-go crap through town.

2. My car insurance got cut in HALF when I moved. No lie.

1. 24-hour, DRIVE-THROUGH Starbucks. (That's right, the only one in the Northeast except for one in Long Island. And yes, it's not in Boston, it's in my little suburban town.)

I recognize that this is a top 5 list, not a top 10 list...but gimme a few months, I've only been here 4 weeks and 90% of my time there has either been in my new place painting, or at the Starbucks getting a chai so I can continue to paint late into the evening.

The real reason I think I like it so much there is because I was raised in the suburbs. This is where I wanted to end up anyway - this is what feels like home to me. I had a friend ask me if I'd miss being walking distance to so many bars. But here's the thing - I totally loved Davis Square. It had tons of great restaurants, and a really unusual vibe to it, but I paid a lot of money to be walking distance from it, and I very rarely went there.

I totally get that there are people my age that would kill to be where I was. I totally get that it makes me sound old to want to live in a neighborhood and sort of "nest." But that's who I am. I'm a nester. I don't go out drinking too too often anymore.

And I've decided it's OK to be that way. It's also OK to be like my friends who love to live near all the bars. It's OK to go out all the time. I just don't. If you think that makes me boring, fine. I didn't say you had to move to Norwood with me. But for my life, and the way I live, it's so much better to live in the suburbs, and take the train in when I want to get all crazy and then crash on someone's couch. It's nice having the balance of being young enough to do that, but being old enough to want to live in a nice town with nice neighbors and save money on insurance and groceries and gas.

And guess what? There are some fun bars and restaurants within walking distance of my house. Yes, that's right folks, even suburban towns have bars. And they can be fun. No, I won't get the culture exposure I did in Davis Square (not even close), but that's why I plan on being back in Boston on a regular basis. I do own a car, after all. And with the money I'm saving on insurance and gas, I can afford to pay for parking now. =)

So, that's what I've been up to. Rockin' Tha Suburbz. And it has been a GOOD TIME. Feel free to come and visit!

Schlubs, Slurpees, and Scrubbers

(Alternatively titled: The hodge-podge post of small things I've been thinking about lately, joined into one humongoid post.)

Monday, April 17, was Patriot's Day here in Boston. I *love* this holiday. It honors the battles fought in Lexington and Concord that began the fight for independence in this country, but what it really means is that (almost) everyone in the Boston area gets the day off (sorry, Jay). It's such a fun day, especially because you feel like you're getting away with something...having the day off when the rest of the country (even the rest of the state) is working. It is something TRULY unique to Boston, and I totally dig that. Probably the biggest reason people in Boston get the day off is because the run the Boston Marathon on this day. The Boston Marathon is an event that is unique in its own right, besides creating a holiday for our great city. Most marathons begin early in the morning because they take several hours to finish and it gets too hot by midday and too dark by evening for the runners to be able to finish. The Boston Marathon, however, starts at 11am. That's because it's still winter here, usually, and it's actually not the right temp for a marathon run until mid-day. (Side story: two years ago it was 80 degrees on Marathon Monday, and they had to fly in the person who heads up the Ironman Triathalon in Hawaii to help the planners figure out how to not have all the runners die from heat stroke...because the Ironman was the only other race run in conditions like we had that day. Craziness.) It's especially fun to watch the Boston Marathon, because it is the oldest marathon in the country, and because the last mile of the marathon begins in Kenmore Square, just outside of Fenway Park. In recent years, the Red Sox have purposely planned a home game starting about the same time as the marathon...and many people (the lucky ones) get tickets to the game, go to that, and then when it's over they empty into Kenmore just as the bulk of the marathon runners are starting to come through. It's a fun time - all along the marathon course people line up to cheer on the runners, and often they bring signs to update the runners on the Sox score. The marathon also runs right by Wellesley Collge, and the Wellesley girls and faculty line the streets in THRONGS and cheer the runners on all day. This part is called the Wellesley "Scream Tunnel," and I've heard from actual marathoners that they thought they'd go deaf while running through it, but it was also the biggest rush of the race. The Scream Tunnel, by the way, often prompts strapping young men running the marathon to write on their chests in permanent markers things like "I love Wellesley girls. Call me! " SO funny. Also, one year, the Sox played the Yankees and I saw many people running with things written on their arms/chests like "Jeter Sucks" and other such Yankee-hating quips. It's just funny - the Boston Marathon definitely has a personality all its own.

In any case, taking public transportation on this day is a MESS. Many portions of bus routes and T stations are shut down for the marathon, and the system runs very slowly due to packed cars from both the game and the marathon. I happened to be on the T trying to get to South Boston to watch a Little League game (Jay coaches), and timed it just right so that I was next to people boarding the T coming straight from having run the marathon. Now, I've been at the Sox game (well, OK, not at the Sox game, per se, but at the ballpark in the bar attached to Fenway watching the game on TV), and I may or may not have had a few beers (probably the one day a year I drink in the middle of the day), and then I had some ice cream and indulged in the largest soy chai Starbucks has to offer. And I'm sitting in a seat on the T (a rarity when it's full), and these people get on wrapped in foil. I look at these people, who just ran 26.2 miles, and I immediately get up and offer them my seat. They decline. Are you kidding me? I haven't been to the gym on a regular basis in more than 2 months, and they just ran 26.2 miles and they don't want to sit down? I can hardly stand up to offer them my seat! I refuse to sit down, however, because I realize what a schlub I'd feel like if I sat while they stood. Anyway, it was pretty cool to be so close to people who have accomplished something I'm sure I'll never get to in my life (no, really. My doctor says that I'll be in traction for at least a month if I try it - damned arthritis). I have a few friends who have run a marathon, and a few who have walked, and to all of them I take off my hat. Well done, folks - being close to these foil-wrapped people here in Boston reminded me of all the hard work you guys put forth, and I'm just proud to say I know you. Even though I'm a schlub right now. =)

On to the next topic! Because of the fickle nature of the weather here in Beantown, I have had some ups and downs with seasonal allergies. Now, I don't care where you live, I bet you've experienced this "Joy of Spring" as well. You wake up with a sore throat from post-nasal drip, you walk around feeling like your head is a balloon about to detach from your body, and the only thing you can do is overdose on Tylenol Allergy Sinus (my miracle drug of choice) and pray for the best. Mmmmmm....FUN. Recently, I had the pain in my throat (usually fixed by the aforementioned miracle drug of choice) move to the back of my mouth, so that anytime I swallowed there was a sharp pain at the base of my tongue. This could not be fixed by my miracle drug, and I was absolutely miserable. Until I re-visited an old philosophy of mine: Slurpees fix everything! That's right, the good old 7-11 Slurpee became my new miracle drug of choice, and I recommend it to all of you. The beauty of treating allergy symptoms with a Slurpee is this: the spoon-straw. You can spot-treat any sore areas of your mouth by scooping up a bit of Slurpee and placing it directly in the affected area. If it is your throat that hurts, the Slurpee slides down smoothly and soothes the entire area, and it is my belief that the carbonation in the Slurpee-goodness helps to erode the offending mucus that is making your throat hurt in the first place. I've found that the Slurpee miracle drug has long-lasting effects, and is far tastier than any other solution. For those of you lucky enough not to be affected by allergy symptoms, FEAR NOT! The Slurpee has other amazing benefits for you! The Slurpee can make a hot summer day 10 degrees cooler, and it can make your mouth a fun color as well. For those on a diet, the Slurpee is a fat-free dessert option. Need a kick of energy but trying to give up caffeine? The sugar in the Slurpee will give you a nice jolt. Trying to become an alcoholic but just don't like the taste? Mix some rum in your Slurpee (making a Rumee, if you will) and drink it down like water! (OK, just kididng on the last one. I mean, you can still make that delicious concoction, but don't try to become an alcoholic or anything. Seriously.) Anyway, my point is, Slurpees make everything better. Try one today!

My final point today is about my new toothbrush. Now, I've always been an Oral-B or Crest girl when it came to toothbrushes, because Oral-B is what my dentist gave me and Crest has always been my toothpaste of choice. But I was swayed by a commercial for a Reach brand toothbrush that included a tongue-scraper on the back of the head. I'm big into tongue-scraping, as it is a key element in preventing bad breath and is just an all-around good idea...but I'm totally unwilling to spend extra money on a separate-tongue scraping device. I don't care how cheap they are, it's a matter of principle - you can accomplish the same thing with your toothbrush bristles, and I find it to be a waste of money. The issue was, every single time I scraped my tongue with the toothbrush bristles, I'd gag. Not pleasant. But still a matter of principle, so I stuck to my toothbrush-bristles-gagging plan. Until now. Ladies, and gentlemen, I am a convert. The first time I used the Reach toothbrush the scraper side on the back of the toothbrush head rubbed against my cheek, and I thought I wasn't going to like it. But, on the plus side, when I used the scraper tool, there was no gagging, so I decided to give it another day or so to see if I got used to it. Guess what? I did. And now I love my toothbrush so much that I tell EVERYONE I possibly can about it. If you're into tongue scraping, and have a gagging problem with the bristles, and have a moral issue with buying a separate tool, this is the brush for you. Of course, if you have that much OCD (like I do), maybe you should have that checked out. =)

(And yes, I'm joking about the OCD, but it is not a funny disease. Please don't get mad at me.)

You Down Wit' OCD? Yeah You Know...er....Everybody?

(Alternatively Titled: The Blog Brought to you by Jay. No, Literally. Jay wrote it. Enjoy.)

First off, let me introduce myself as Jay, Kristy’s boyfriend, who she has previously written about in only a few blogs… but I’m sure she raves about me in private. OK, now that we have the proper introduction, here’s my beef .

Remember a few years back, when parents, looking for the easiest excuse as to why their child was a stark mad raving lunatic, who did everything but bark at the moon, decided their child or children (remember genetics) was ADD, ADHD or even HDTV? They took to the airwaves, it was on all the news shows, I’m sure Matt Lauer debated its merits with some real famous jackass – ADD was hip, the IN thing, and we all thought we had it. It became popular culture. It took on a life of its own.

*Why did you leave the stove on? ADD

*Oh my God, I forgot to pay the heating bill - ADD

*That report you needed yesterday boss? Have I told you I’m ADD – Hey, it could be worse, I used to be HD too! I’ll have it to you by…what were we talking about again?

*Why did you forget your child was in the backseat when you went to the bar? ADD

Those were the days, we didn’t need excuses. We only needed ADD. Then people got wise. Society figured out if everyone has ADD, wouldn’t that make ADD the default behavior and only the superior should be identified and worshiped? You know, the ASI – the Attention Superior Intellectuals. People like Tom Cruise…er…I’m sorry he’s ASS (please don’t sue me Tom, I’m soooooo scared of your 5’2” {in heels}, scrawny, buck-oh-five ASS).

Well folks, now we have another malady sweeping across the nation. No, not the bird flu. It’s not SARS. You guessed it, it’s OCD.

Yes, now our friends, co-workers and loved ones - as well as ourselves, can be absolved of all annoying habits and stubborness just by throwing out those three little letters you all know so well. O is for obsessive, C is for compulsive… the last letter, weeellll that’s not so simple. Is it D for disorder?

*Why won’t you move that chair I keep stubbing my toe on? OCD! It has to stay there!

*Why do we have to have a plan all the time? OCD

*Sorry boss about being late, I had to check the iron, then the stove, then the iron then the stove, then the door didn’t close right, so I had to check it again…my OCD just kicked in.

*You can’t sit in that seat. I watch every Red Sox game in that seat. It’s my OCD.

*Listen, I don’t mean to be an ass, but I have OCD – can you clean up your mess NOW, or I’ll just, just, just … {No, I get it, you’ll just keep nagging me.}

Personally, I think D may as well stand for DICK, as in it’s an excuse we use when we want to be a flaming Dick. Saying you (or I) have OCD is just a hellava lot nicer than saying “Hey, I’m an inflexible Dick.”

So people of the world, we must fight this OCD phenomenon at all costs, because we don’t want the default behavior to become OCD. Save it for all the poor souls who really do have it, like those who take an hour-and-a-half just to turn off a light switch. However, Tom Cruise can be OCD because he really is an inflexible Dick.

My whole point is people don’t need to put acronyms behind their behavior. I like to think a little bit more the old fashioned way and use words like accountable, responsible, or, more simply, human. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, and we all have to live with them. So let’s go about making ourselves acronym free, unless you really have the paperwork, or scripts, to prove it.

A post brought to you by Debbbbbbbbbbbbb

Last week it was something ridiculous like 8 degrees outside, and I ran into Target to grab a few items for work, and there were bikinis - TONS of bikinis - for sale in the clothing section. Sick, sick, sick.

But that's not the point of this post. I have a funny anecdote for y'all. Ready?

So, the road that runs from my hospital to the highway (or anywhere, really) is one of those 2 lanes per side (so 4 lanes total) roads that really ought to be a highway but instead is actually a local road. Roads like this are common up here, because one road will become the most direct (or the only) way to get from point A to point B, so everyone uses it, but there's no way to widen the road to meet growing traffic because there are crazy amounts of residential homes surrounding it. There's not even a way to build a by-pass without mowing down some homes as you ruin neighborhood upon neighborhood. It's part of the reason Boston traffic sucks so much (the other part being the drivers, but that's actually another post for another time).

In any case, this road is heavily congested at peak "rush-hour" times - both hospital rush hour times (7am, 3pm - this is when most of the hospital staff's shifts begin or end) and regular working stiffs' rush hour times (8/9am, 4/5/6 pm). And because it doesn't merit any status above a local road, it is often difficult to access it from other local roads. I see people all the time, sitting at an intersection with no stoplight, blinker on, looking sad and forlorn. "Won't anyone let me in? I want to play too!" they seem to say with their desperate eyes. It's especially sad at the end of the day, when you know they've worked a full day and just want to get home.

So, for whatever reason, I feel bad for these people and I let them in. Usually one or two during a commute - I operate under the theory of driver karma (in which if you let others into the flow of traffic, others will do the same for you when you need in). It doesn't really alter the time it takes me to get home, and these poor people can get on with their day. To the end of practicing driver karma, I often will leave space at one of these stoplight-less intersections when traffic is backed up and halted. Technically, it's the law. But nobody gets tickets for blocking an intersection unless it's one with a stoplight (or at least, up here they don't).

Last week I was driving home after coming into work WHILST I WAS SICK to facilitate a program I'm a part of (the beauty of being a one-person program is you can set your hours and do your own thing, but the thing that sucks is you can't call someone else to do the stuff you signed up for when you're sick). So I'm exhausted, having worked while sick, and in no mood to deal with your typical "Boston driver." And I'm travelling on this road; this really-should-be-a-highway-but-instead-is-a-clogged-local-road-that-causes-nothing-but-headaches-for-all-who-travel-it; and traffic is, of course, backed up. We're inching along to an actual stoplight (one of the few), and I leave space in front of me in the stopped traffic line for any car that might want to turn onto my road from a street intersecting with my road to the left.

Let me set the stage for you again: traffic is stopped. I have left perhaps one car-length between me and the next car. There is a street that intersects with the road I'm on to the left of me. I have left space for a car from that road to join us in our traffic misery on my road.

Now, this HUGE van comes up behind me, and stops, leaving a reasonable distance between our vehicles. But then said van must have noticed the space in front of me, and begins inching towards me, getting dangerously close to my rear bumper, clearly trying to encourage me to move forward and fill in the gap I've left.

At this moment, a car comes up on the side street, puts on its blinker, and turns into the space in front of me. I feel good about having helped that person get where they need without any hassle. Until the light changes and we start to move.

Apparently the van driver has decided that, by letting in the one solitary car in front of me, I have significantly increased his travel time and he's mad, so he stays right on my bumper.

REALLY?!?!?

Really you're going to sit on my ass for ONE TINY CAR? C'mon, dude. You need anger counseling.

So I decide to have some fun.

(This is where I blow the karma I built up by letting the car into my lane in the first place. But oh, was it worth it!)

We're still not going forward at any sort of rapid pace; in fact I think we were moving at a speed that could be very well classified as "inching." And I'm irritated that this guy won't get off my bumper, so I do what they tell you to do in driving school to get tailgaters off your bumper - I slow down.

Well, OK, I stopped short. (But when you're inching along, stopping short really is the next step down!) =) I stopped short for maybe two seconds, not even long enough to make a car-length gap between me and the car in front of me, and began inching forward again.

To put it nicely, this did not sit well with the driver of the van.

He promptly turned on his brights, honked his horn, and leaned out the window to yell at me. He then cut off someone in the lane next to us so he could get beside me, leaned out his window some more, and yelled at me some more, turning around to face me even after he'd passed me. He's getting mad at me for stopping short (presumably because he could have hit me and it would have been his fault for following too closely) and he's DRIVING FORWARD IN TRAFFIC WHILE LEANING OUT THE WINDOW AND LOOKING BACKWARDS. Yeah, buddy, I'm the one with the problem.

In any case, here's the part brought to you by Debbbbbbbbbbbbbb:

As he's looking at me, all mad and squinchy-faced, I looked back at him, flashed him my friendliest, happiest, most-girl-next-door-thanks-for-waving-at-me SMILE and waved.

Debb once told me she did that to someone who was driving recklessly and cutting people off and then flicked her off, and it brought her great satisfaction.

And I can tell you from first-hand experience, it does indeed bring a great deal of satisfaction. Acting like you're happy to see someone wave at you in traffic and returning the favor is so fun in this situation. I highly recommend it.

I realize that by writing this my mother will probably have a small coronary attack as she imagines all sorts of inner-city road-rage-related gang violence happening to me from doing something like this...but mom, I'm OK. I don't do this all the time, this was a one time thing. Besides, I was in Newton, safest city in America.

And anyway, I can't keep doing things like this or I'll ruin all my good driver karma, and I'll never get to turn onto a major road from a minor road ever again!

=)