Our city has just gotten its very first traffic roundabout. They had a ribbon-cutting ceremony for it and everything. I don't know if communities normally have ribbon-cutting ceremonies for such things, but keep in mind this is Redneck Valley and there's not much happening. So, circles are pretty exciting here. I mean, an intersection that's a different shape?! Hoo-boy! What will they think of next?!

I will admit that I might perhaps go out of my way to drive the roundabout. You know, because it's awesome. Sometimes I choose the roundabout as an alternate route to get where I'm going, but other times it is a completely superfluous addition to my route and I go out of my way to get there. Those times I exit the circle at the same spot I entered because I actually need to go the direction from which I came. This is the most fun because in order to make the U-turn (or is it an O-turn?) I get to drive in a complete circle, saying "Wheeeeeee!" the whole way.

Also the roundabout is fun to talk about. When it first opened, someone asked me if I'd seen it yet, and I said, "No, I haven't gotten around to it yet." And then I said, "Ha! Around to it!" and started cackling with laughter. Which maybe doesn't sound that funny, but I'm easily amused. Also, you had to be there.

Now I'm waiting for someone to call my cell asking where I am while I'm driving the roundabout so that I can say I'm "roundabout the roundabout."

So yeah, I'm all about the roundabout. And bonus! It's (sorta) on the way to Target. In a roundabout way.

I just sorted the clothes in my closet by color. They now hang in the same order as the hues of a rainbow. This is what happens when one is stressed and the items in the bathroom drawer have already been obsessively arranged.

been reading: Good Grief by Lolly Winston

This is a novel about Sophie, a woman in her 30s, and the path her life takes after her husband dies from cancer.

I shouldn't read books like this because just the thought of losing my husband puts me in a funk for days. The book claims to be "laugh-out-loud" funny, although I was doubtful of that from the start. What part of being a widow is hilarious? Soon after her husband dies, Sophie goes to work in her bathrobe and slippers because she has only enough energy to either get dressed or go to work, but not both. Reading the description of her walking around the office in her bunny slippers, I got the impression this was intended to be a bit hysterical, but I only found it depressing. And completely understandable.

I considered quitting the book several times, but I wanted to power through if for no other reason than a small curiosity about how Sophie ends up. Had I known the answer to this, I would have stopped reading immediately. Within a year of her husband's death, [spoiler alert] Sophie has discovered her life's passion (baking), opened her own bakery, turned a troubled teen's life around, and been proposed to by her handsome actor boyfriend. I mean, really? Total crock of chick-lit shit.

For realistic, profound reflections on life as a widow, read this instead. It actually makes you think, and cherish the people you love, rather than just causing you to crave a cupcake.

As Rob and I sit on the beach, I begin pointing out beautiful women. "She's gorgeous," I say, nodding my head toward a woman walking past us.

As Rob follows my gaze, I notice another woman walking through the water in a dark bikini. "There's a woman who definitely belongs in a bikini," I say. "Look at her."

"I can't believe I'm checking out women on the beach with my wife," Rob says.

"I love checking out women," I say, shrugging. Of course, he knows this. Usually I'm pointing out a woman's shoes or cute top, but sometimes I'll remark on a particularly nice butt or, like today, the whole package. The female figure is a beautiful thing to behold, and being a heterosexual woman doesn't make me unaware of that. In a similar way I appreciate the sleek strut of a cat, moving its perfect proportions with a touch of prissiness.

We're still staring at the woman in the dark bikini.

"That's an hourglass figure," Rob says, in a way that suggests he's never before seen a more definitive example. Neither have I.

"I don't understand how she can have such a small waist," I say, "and yet still be so voluptuous at top and bottom."

"She's not really voluptuous," Rob disagrees.

"No, you're right. But her ass isn't flat, and she's got good boobs." I'm making an unspoken comparison to myself - my curves are considerably straighter than hers.

We pause in our commentary for a moment, and then Rob adds, "Her butt is tan."

I look at him quizzically, this comment seeming a bit random. "Why do you say that? I mean, it is. But why are you pointing it out?"

"Compared to you, I mean. She's tan all over. And you...you're whiter in some places."

"Well, she's probably been here all week." There is a touch of defensiveness in my voice. "If I'd been here all week, I'd be tan all over, too."

"Oh, I know. I was just making a comparison."

I raise an eyebrow at this. "I didn't realize we were making comparisons."

He is smart enough not to respond.

"In that case," I continue, "she has long hair. There's a comparison. Also? She has a big-muscled man."

And so ends our babe watching. We stick to admiring the view of the ocean for the rest of the day.

Last evening during rescue squad duty we were called to a structure fire. Fortunately no one had been harmed, and we were only needed to rehab firefighters. I'd never been on the scene of a fire before, and it was an up-close reminder of the heroism of firefighters.

A fellow EMT recently observed that the fire department is able to raise much more money than the rescue squad, and he wondered aloud why the public seems to revere firefighters more than EMTs. I suggested it has something to do with the sexy calendars. Of course, the real answer seems pretty obvious. Um, maybe because they will fucking go into burning buildings for you?

Being an EMT comes with risks, too. In this locale, law enforcement is dispatched to an EMT call whenever possible, for the purpose of protecting us. We never know what we might encounter when we walk into someone's home. Domestic violence calls are particularly dangerous, as are traffic collisions. And of course, there's always the chance of becoming infected by a patient, even if protective measures have been taken.

But firefighters will walk through fire for you. Literally. And what I didn't realize until last evening is just how taxing that is. These guys (nearly all of whom were volunteers) stumbled out of the fire, soaked in sweat and completely spent. They'd tear off their outer layers, fumble for a drink out of the cooler, and sprawl on the grass. We took drinks to the ones who didn't have the energy to walk to the cooler. And we monitored their vitals, which revealed just how much their bodies were affected by the act of fighting fire. Of course, they love it. It's a thrill, and they are chomping at the bit to go back in. But that doesn't lessen the sacrifice. And what especially struck me is that when no one is inside to save, they take the risks just to protect your property.

As things were winding down last evening, the owners of the house walked around and thanked every single emergency responder there. I was touched by that, considering what they'd been through. I was also touched to hear one firefighter tell them, "I'm sorry for your loss." At the risk of sounding over-the-top, my faith in humanity was restored a bit last night, seeing the unselfish effort and resources that went into helping one family in a moment of desperation.

We've come to expect emergency services and maybe even take for granted that such a support system is in place. To dial 911 is one of the first things we learn as kids. I've certainly always found reassurance in knowing immediate assistance is just a phone call away. But to make it happen, in every community people are volunteering their time to sit around and wait for you to have an emergency. And when you do, they will come without hesitation - despite potential personal risk - to do their damnedest to help.

watching kids jump off the diving board, especially one tiny little girl whose signature jump was to throw her arms into a Y and splay her legs...every time this made us laugh, as did the way she'd sashay back to the board again, splashing purposefully through the puddles

R:  So yesterday I was reading People --
K:  Whoa. Slim pickins at the doctor's office, huh?
R:  Yeah, they had Good Housekeeping, something ridiculous like Diabetes Monthly, and one other one just as bad...
K:  Parenting?
R:  No.
K:  Highlights for Children?
R:  No. It was.... Oh yeah, it was Sports Illustrated.
K.  Wait, you're telling me you chose People over Sports Illustrated?
R:  Yes.
K:  Okay.