She went thatta way! No! That way! The other that way!

I confess. I live a double life.

I have an uncanny ability to memorize the layout of a building within minutes are remember where rooms are located. I retain these "blue prints" for years it seems. I remember the layout of a childhood friend's house and I only visited her home once for a birthday party before she moved away. Stores, airports, restaurants, office buildings, hotels...I memorize it all. A useful trick at conferences.

However, there is another side of me. The side that couldn't find its way out of a paper sack in the dark with two hands, a flashlight, and a map. Don't ask me which direction is north from any given spot because I can't tell you. The same goes for the other directions. And, no, the sun's position doesn't help because unless I see it moving I can't tell west from east. I often confuse left and right turns and have to back track. It's frustrating, really.

So you're probably wondering if there's a point to all this. There is. But first, an example of my fabulous sense of direction:

Last Tuesday I left home for my weekly Citizen's Academy meeting with the Mobile Police Department. I hadn't been there in a couple of weeks because of Bouchercon and post-travel recovery time. The path to where the meetings are held is familiar so it doesn't give me trouble...with the exception that it's close to downtown and I never go downtown by myself. One way streets confuse the hell out of me so I avoid that area whenever possible.

The trouble began with I arrived for the meeting to discover no one was there. Because I had some jackass following too closely behind me I wasn't able to slow down and make a U-turn in the parking lot like I wanted. I decided I'd go to the next major street and make the block. Sounded like a good plan at the time. Heh...yeah...right....

I turned left at the next major street knowing I needed to make a left to get back to Government Street and from there back home. Unfortunately, the street I'd chosen didn't lead back to Government, at least not right away. I'm searching for Government Street and realize too late that I'd just crossed it. I'm now in the land of one way streets and have no freaking clue what street I'm on anymore. All I know is that the street lights are getting further apart and dimmer by the second. Buildings are boarded up and the general vibe of the area is not a good one.

So I find a place to make a U-turn and call Mark. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: "I'm freaking out! I'm lost in downtown!"

Mark: "Where are you now?"

Me: "How the hell should I know? I'm fucking lost!"

Mark: "What street are you on?"

Me: "I don't know."

Mark: *sigh* "Do you see any cross streets?"

Me: "They don't have signs that I see. Wait. Here's one.... *driving through intersection* Damn it! That was Government. Again!"

Mark: "Turn around and go back."

Me: "All call you back in a few. Got to making another 'youie'."

I turned around and drove back to Government. Got in the left turn lane. Light changes and I'm heading home....so I think.

If you've ever been to downtown Mobile you will know there are a few distinguishing landmarks. One is the newly built "skyscraper" with the unfinished looking top. (I don't know that official name of the building and honestly, don't really care.) Another landmark is the Bankhead Tunnel. I'm driving along Government and wondering why the skyscraper appears to be getting closer. If I'm heading west towards home, I shouldn't even see the damn thing. Now I'm utterly confused and to add to my confusion, I drive past the Bankhead Tunnel entrance. It finally dawns on me that I'm going the wrong direction.

Again.

Government Street literally runs into Water Street and your choices are left or right. I'm on the phone with Mark and waiting to turn right onto Water Street. The conversation goes something like this:

Me: "I went the wrong way. I'm turning right on Water Street now."

Mark: "Okay, you--"

Me: *sees a sign for I-10 East to Pensacola, Florida and a looming interstate on-ramp* "Crap! This is not what I wanted!" *quick turn onto Canal Street*

Mark: "What's going on?"

Me: "I can see I-10 but I can't get to it to go west. I'm on Canal Street. I think."

Mark: "Canal isn't going to take you--"

Me: *sees a 'No Outlet' sign* "Grrr! I fucking hate downtown!"

Mark: "Park somewhere and I'll come get you."

Me: "There are no street lights here. I'm not stopping. Hell no."

Mark: "Then what do you want me to do?"

Me: *making U-turn* "I'm heading back to Government. Once I get there, I can get home. I hope."

Once I finally was heading the right direction on Government Street, getting home was a snap. However, the whole ordeal was an hour of my life I'd rather have back. It certainly didn't enhance my love of driving downtown, and I mean downtown anywhere, not just Mobile. I had similar experiences when I lived in Denver, Colorado that didn't endear downtown Denver to my heart either. Then again, I also had similar experiences in both McComb and Brookhaven, Mississippi, and I grew up visiting those towns. I think any downtown area and I are destined for a rocky relationship.

So, now you're probably really wondering where my point is in this story. It's coming. Next post... ;-)

Cops and Wet T-shirts

Yesterday was a busy day here at Hacienda del Holmes. Naturally, the cats were spazzing most of the morning. Scraps of paper, dust bunnies, and shed whiskers become mighty dragons in their minds. There was a whole lotta pouncing, chasing, and general mayhem. (Only Nugget was in a dragon-slaying mood this morning, so it was relatively quiet.)

I spent most of the day catching up on emails and doing other "housekeeping" type stuff until it was time for Ms. Editor to call and discuss the final round of edits for BLOOD LAW. It's all minor tweaking in the vein of adding a sentence or two here and there to clarify things. It shouldn't take long to wrap these up at all. Huzzah! We also discussed the plan for Book 2 and she gave the official green light on it. (Good thing, too, since I already started writing it. Hehe.) We also discussed other Super Secret Items Which I'm Not Currently At Liberty To Divulge. *evil author grin* Overall, it was a good conversation that left me completely jazzed to get to work on these edits.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to start work right away. Last night was the opening night for the Mobile Police Department's "Citizen's Academy" and I was selected to participate in the program. I spent three glorious hours learning some of the basic foundations of law enforcement. According to our schedule of events, the next 11-weeks are going to be filled with information and fun. I highly recommend to anyone who wants to learn more about their community and how the police operate within it to check with their local PD and see if they offer a "Citizen's Academy" type program. It's a great way to get to know your neighbors, the men and women who put their lives on the line to protect us all, and have a little fun in the process.

Of course, being the complete klutz that I am, I can't go anywhere in public without doing something to embarrass myself. The Academy staff provided light food fare -- finger sandwiches, fried chicken wings, barbecue meatballs, and beverages -- for everyone. I chose to stick with water as my beverage of choice. Everything is going great when suddenly the water bottle slips as I'm taking a sip. What is the most natural of reactions when something starts slipping from your hand? You tighten your grip. Well, you can guess what happened next.

*sploosh*

Water up the nose. Water splashed all over my chest. (When I told Mark about the incident, his reaction was to laugh hysterically and say that I should've told everyone I was "there for the wet T-shirt contest." Yes, I smacked him.)

*sigh* Only I can nearly drown myself with a bottle of water while surrounded by about thirty people, including five or six highly trained cops, and at least one nurse.

This is why I often avoid the buffets and such at cocktail parties and stick to non-alcoholic drinks served in real glasses. I'm a klutz. If I can possibly drip, dribble, spill, stain, or otherwise embarrass the hell out of myself, I'll find a way to do it. I don't even have to be at an important function. I can do the same whenever Mark and I go out for dinner. It happens so frequently that we've created a motto: "If Jeannie doesn't drip, it wasn't worth the trip." Grace in motion, I am not.

Oh well... All these little embarrassments build character. Right? Right?