The Northward Contrail

Well, that was a bust

A few weeks ago I got an e-mail from the hotel loyalty program to which I belong.  I'm already an elite member with this program, but the chain was offering temporary next-tier membership to holders of a certain flavor of credit card.  As it happens, I have said credit card, and just like that, I was temporarily promoted.  To keep that next tier into next year, all I needed to do was stay three more times and charge those stays to that same credit card.  This would be easy enough; I was staying over the night before my flight out, and I had a room for two days in Seattle, so that was already in hand.  But I needed one more to close the deal, so I booked a room for Tuesday night in the nearest big city.

The property I selected used to belong to another chain (and another one before that), so it has some mileage on it.  It switched over to its current brand of hotels a couple months back.  I'd visited the place a few years before to attend a banquet function, and it seemed suitable for this new identity, or so I recalled from that brief visit.  They were running a special rate since they'd just switched over, and it was better than some lower-tier places nearby, so I went with that.

Tuesday afternoon I checked in, took my stuff up to the fourth-floor room, only to find there were some curveballs.  No drink machine or ice machine on my floor; to do that, I'd have to go all the way down to first.  The hotel was also old enough that the doors still had knockers on them below that little through-the-door eyepiece thing.  So far, no big deal.  I got a drink, started using some wireless Internet, and then went off for a bit to meet up with hubby for some errands.

When that was done, I drove downtown to keep a promise to myself.  There's a brew pub where I used to meet up with some friends during my graduate school days.  I hadn't been there in close to a decade.  When I walked in and took the nearest table I could to where we used to congregate (that table, alas, had just been claimed), the memories came back.  The place had changed little, or so it seemed.  They still offered one of my favorite pizzas, and I ordered that and a glass of pale ale.  So far, I was happy.  But the beer was lukewarm when it arrived.  It would have been a terrific beer if it had been properly chilled, but I could only choke down half of it before it was all over.  And the pizza...well, it was good, but not what it used to be.  They used to do their own pizza crusts, but now they've gone to smaller, factory-made crusts.  It just wasn't the same, in quantity or quality, and I left a little disappointed.  It wasn't as good as I remembered.

I drove back to the hotel, and along the way I decided I'd stop in the little restaurant and get some sort of after-dinner treat.  So I walked in, took a seat, and waited.  A server eventually came over and gave me a menu.  I looked it over and decided on something with ice cream, and a cup of coffee to go with.  And I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  After about 10 or 15 minutes with no service, the moment was gone.  I got up, put the menu back on the bar, and went back up to my room.

So I was sitting at the desk, working on some correspondence and munching away on some snacks I'd brought in.  The people in the suite next door decided to watch television.  This is one of those rooms where there's a double door separating yours from the next.  Well, the soundproofing was long gone, for I didn't have to work hard to hear the neighbors' television.  I packed up my stuff and moved into the bedroom half of the suite, and closed the door.  There, at least, I could get a little quiet, at least as long as the really loud air conditioning unit was running.  (All of this, mind you, at what's billed as an upscale hotel chain.)

In fairness, the night of sleep I got was pretty sound, and I must have logged the best eight hours of sleep I've had in a long while.  The next morning, I staggered out of bed and went to take a shower.  The shower must have run two minutes or more before I finally got an acceptable water temperature.  And that added to my dissatisfaction; that and a couple of housekeeping/maintenance issues I'd noticed didn't add to my happiness one bit.

In all my years of dealing with hotels, this was the first time I answered in the negative during the routine "was everything all right?" at check-out.  I had some issues, I told the desk clerk, and asked to speak to someone.  The on-duty manager happened to be right there, and I told her about the more minor maintenance issues before going into the things that really didn't fly.  She was very apologetic and wanted to know what she could do to help me leave with a positive experience, offering me breakfast (in the back of my mind, I was thinking that I'd only get the same service, or lack thereof, that I got the night before -- plus, with the status level I have, I already get free breakfast) or more rewards points, or whatever.  I was noncommittal in my responses, for I couldn't bring myself to tell her that there wasn't much, short of comping me for the entire stay (which would then have screwed up the entire purpose of my stay, which was to get the additional stay charged to my card that I needed in order to keep my next-tier benefits), that would ever bring me back to this particular location.  But, that's the funny thing about hotels.  Even when you know and trust the brand name, they can still be a crapshoot, no matter what corporate says about brand consistency.

So the entire trip was pretty much a disappointment.  At least it was only an overnight trip, and at least I treated myself to a pretty good lunch the next day.

What a weekend

It was sort of a long weekend for us.  Hubby took Friday off, so we had a rare Friday together with lunch out, and it was good.  We don't get to spend all that much time together, so it was a real treat.

Saturday was kind of a dilly.  We took our time that morning going out, and then went on a couple hours' drive over to one of the nearby big cities.  We stopped in at our nearest location of a certain book chain that's going out of business, only to find it overrun by people who were there in hopes of scoring major bargains.  (The first weekend of a "store closing" sale is rarely when you'll get the deepest discounts, of course.)  Then a stop at our favorite hobby shop in the area brought a rather astonishing display of thoughtlessness and rudeness from a couple of fellow shoppers, and one of those moments when I had to decide whether or not to make a scene in return.  (I didn't.) 

But the trip was made completely worth it when we found that a bookstore we hadn't been to in a long time has been transformed into a new/used bookstore, one comparable to this old favorite or this other one I know, too.  I dropped a good $40 at this stop, and at one of these places $40 goes a long way.  Among my finds was a very nice hardcover edition of this, which is required reading for any fan of the television series, and I'm looking forward to reading it once I'm back from my trip.  (I plan to bring lighter fare to read en route.)  Then it was off for pizza at our favorite pizza joint, a stop at one more store, and then homeward.

All was right with the world until a few minutes before 10 pm Saturday night.  I'd found a tiny spider, and rather than kill it, I captured it.  As I stepped out to put it outside, the new cat saw his opening and was out the door like a shot.  Every time I tried to get near him, he'd sneak away.  Then he was off down our driveway, laying in the middle of the road, and then climbing up the hill onto the adjacent property.  Finally, after grabbing some cat treats and climbing up the steep hill and through some brush, I had him in my grasp, and within 10 minutes of his escape he was safely inside the house once more.  It was a close call, and I spent much of the evening mad at myself for the moment of carelessness that could have led to something awful.  But, no permanent damage, so that's worth something.

With all that happening Saturday, it was very good that Sunday was quiet and peaceful.  It was the last full day the four of us would have together before I leave Tuesday afternoon, when I pre-position for Wednesday's flight out.  I'm sure looking forward to my trip...but I'm also looking forward to being reunited with my boys a week from Friday, too.  But if I have to go for a week and a half without them, the weekend was a (mostly) nice way to stock up on together time before I head out.

Three days

There's not much to say this morning.  I'm a little bummed out because the long weekend was a good long weekend.  After being away much of last weekend due to work obligations, hubby was around this weekend to help with stuff that needed doing at the house, and that was a load off my mind.  We went out Saturday for lunch and ice cream.  Then yesterday we took the drive over to be with my family for the 4th of July, and it was Very Good, reminding me why it is I'm glad the family is nearby.  On top of all that, just having hubby around for a while was very nice; after all the long days and overtime, it's comforting to have him here.

It was also a productive weekend.  Decals were applied to a certain project that I've been looking forward to for years.  It's coming along, and looking rather promising.  If there was a down side, it was that I managed to cut one finger in the process of masking for further paint -- not a deep cut, but inconvenient nonetheless.  Fortunately, it doesn't appear to have gotten in the way of my dexterity; it's just a nuisance.  So life will go on.

Stay tuned.  Pictures may be coming this week of a nifty completed project that should be extra special.

Fear and loathing at the DMV

I went yesterday to get my driver's license renewed.  I had until my birthday to get it done, but I had a free morning and I wanted to get it over with, so yesterday it was.

Now, I have a general mistrust of any time I have to deal with bureaucracy.  A year spent in Florida didn't help things, as I had occasion to deal with government agencies there and found the help to be not so helpful.  You never know what kind of clerk you're going to draw, and a couple times were pretty memorable, including once when I was berated by a clerk merely for proffering paperwork that was not completed to his liking.  And in this age of increased security and scrutiny, even though I have had zero trouble with the law except for a couple of traffic tickets long ago, I reflexively expect any encounter with someone in an official capacity to become a nightmare -- which is funny because, more often than not, nothing happens.  It's a paradox: I've done nothing wrong, but I walk into every encounter expecting the most critical of eyes to fall on me. 

But yesterday couldn't have gone more somnolently.  Complete a form, take an eye test, hand over old license, write a check, and then get your picture taken.  The clerk I drew was kind and good-humored.  As it turned out, the picture part was the worst part of it all.  I'm convinced the companies that make the cameras used for driver's license photos install those carnival fun-house mirror glass within the optics.  Then wait for license to be laminated, and once that's done, you're good to go.  With that, it was over and I could breathe again.  Plus, every chore of that sort you survive deserves a reward, so it was off to the store for a Coke Zero and a bag of M&Ms.  You have to have incentive.

Now, what does it say that I dreaded dealing with the DMV yesterday, but I'm not at all dreading the annual eye exam I have scheduled for today?  I'm still figuring that one out.

A little afternoon commerce

I had to be in the nearest Really Big City yesterday afternoon for a dental appointment (semi-annual cleaning and checkup; passed with flying colors, thanks).  Since hubby turned another year older, I was going to meet up with him at a favorite restaurant after he knocked off work.  This gave me a couple hours for frolic and detour, and I took care of an overdue chore or two while in town.  But, inevitably, the bookstores beckoned, and the following items made their way home with me (and apologies to Prof. Mondo for stealing his recurring post theme -- but remember, it's not theft, it's "homage"):

-- This highly interesting DVD, which contains a program I've previously discussed.  The bookstore had it in a display of DVDs being blown out at basically half-off.  I loved this documentary when it originally aired -- it's a very skillful presentation of archival footage, done in a way that lets the footage tell the story by itself. 

-- In the same display was the third volume of On the Road with Charles Kuralt.  I have the first volume, and couldn't pass up the third.  Kuralt's a favorite, so there was no way I was passing that up.  (Now to find the second for cheap.)

-- And Del Quentin Wilber's Rawhide Down, about the 1981 assassination attempt on President Reagan.  I'd been wanting the book since I learned it was coming out (since I have vivid memories of the day it happened), and the bookstore had it at a discount, so it was a no-brainer.  I started reading it at bedtime last night, and it's gripping reading, with a lot of details I'd never known before. Well worth seeking out.

It was a good afternoon.  (And the dinner with hubby -- my treat -- was fantastic, though I don't know if the big meal was a contributor to the goofy Parallax View-themed dream I had last night.)

Out of gas

Yesterday's presentation is done.  It went about as could be expected, and while some problems were resolved, a few more questions need to be taken care of.  But the presentation isn't the point of today's post.  It doesn't matter.  What does matter is that the last month has drained me.  That's not necessarily a bad thing, because the last month has pushed me and made me grow, and a lot of things have happened that needed to happen.

But it hasn't been without cost: in terms of sleep, in terms of the nights I've come home and couldn't stop my brain from thinking about a new plan of attack, in the times I've been a little short-tempered, and all that.  Now that the presentation's over, I'm having to take care of so many things that have gone without.  I haven't even begun my Christmas shopping yet, for example, and time is running out.  Life, that thing that goes on while everything else is occupying your time, is catching up with me.

Still, I can breathe a little easier knowing that the immediate crisis is aside for now, and I can enjoy little things.  Last night hubby called from work; he'd been up to his eyeballs in work all day, and wouldn't be able to leave in time for us to go to a Christmas party we'd talked about.  After yesterday's presentation, staying at home was fine by me.  But I did ask him to pick up some Chinese food on the way home.  I can't recall take-out Chinese tasting better than it did last night.

And, if all else fails, I can remember that in a week and a half, I'll be back to visit the little part of my heart that lives far, far from here, and all this stuff about meetings and presentations and everything else will be thousands of miles away.  I thought of that journey as a sort of Christmas present to myself, but when I booked it, I had no way to know just what kind of a tonic it would end up becoming.  Funny how life works that way, no?

Therapy

Yesterday I got away for a bit.  The stuff going on at work has threatened to consume me, with long afternoons, endless demands, short-notice meetings and other things we've been doing to finesse various situations here.  I've found myself doing so much work stuff at home that I've wondered why I bothered to leave the office at the end of the day, because I'd just be thinking ahead to the next day anyhow.

Yesterday was no different.  People were constantly in and out of my office wanting things, needing signatures, needing to talk, this and that.  I had the attention span of a mosquito as a result.  But yesterday morning I put a stop to it.  I got my tasks finished, and I got away.  Literally.  I tore myself away from the office, said "no more," got in the car and drove to town.  "Town" being half an hour from here. 

And what a getaway it was.  I bought myself lunch at a favorite deli; one of my favorite sandwiches, one that's basically a salad dumped on top of a cheese sub.  I sat at a table by myself, enjoying lunch.  No one bothered me.  It was splendid.  Then I drove over to a local sporting goods store and bought cold-weather necessities for my forthcoming visit to Alaska, saving a good bit of money on a nifty new coat because it was pretty substantially marked down.  Then I stopped off at the grocery store on the way back, got a few things I needed, and had a Coke Zero and a PayDay bar on the way home. 

All of that -- the getting away, a happy lunch, buying things for a forthcoming trip to a place I love, and the little treat on the way home -- has to have something to do with why I feel so much better than usual this morning.  (That, and the likelihood the matter that's been eating me alive the last two weeks may reach a negotiated settlement that will bring some very, very good things if it goes as hoped.)

:: A shout-out to Professor Mondo for sending me this really cool link with some neat pictures, and some travel inspiration for the adventurous.  Of those ten, I've flown on three of them (727, DC-9 and MD-11) and have been aboard a couple of 707s (and one KC-135, a related but not identical aircraft) on static display.  I tried to get a flight on a Convair 580 when Era still operated them out of Anchorage, but no joy; it remains one on which I'd love to fly.  Oh, well.  Enjoy the link, regardless.

A quiet room

The other night hubby was working late, and I finally got around to watching Date Night.  I'd had it for a while, saving it for a time when I was in a decent frame of mind and had nothing else to do.  To say it's a far-fetched movie is putting it mildly, but I like the two leads an awful lot (but you knew that by now, I imagine), and they took what would have been sort of a dud and turned it into kind of a cute movie, with one of the most realistic depictions of marriage I've ever seen; it's two people in a very loving, but very routine and almost boring, marriage, one where the romance has given way to the hum of everyday life. (Note to lovestruck youngsters: This actually happens.  You'll be surprised by how normal and routine life gets once you've settled in.  That's why it's important you have someone you love and get along with through the exciting times and the boring ones, the good times and the bad.)

There's one scene that really struck home with me, one of those moments where I wonder if someone has been stealing my thoughts or something.  At one point, the Fosters are taking a momentary pause as they're trying to flee from danger.  Phil noticed that Claire was really eyeing the seriously built Holbrooke Grant, and wondered if she had romantic fantasies about running off with someone like him.  No, Claire insisted; instead, her fantasies instead center around "a quiet room, where I can eat my lunch with no one touching me. And drink a Diet Sprite."

I'll say it again...how many times during the average day at work have I fantasized about much the same thing?  (And who's been stealing my thoughts?)

You have to keep going

I'm not sure where things went off the rails yesterday, or why, but they did.  And, today, it continues.

The day didn't quite start that way.  It started reasonably enough.  But then I got to the office and things started to go.  There were umpteen e-mailed requests I had to deal with, some of which involved things the students themselves should have dealt with long before.  Okay, fine.  But then I kept getting pulled off my tasks for this or that, or somebody wanting to come by and talk.  It hasn't been helped by the fact that I have not had a good night's rest in what seems like forever, and my primary fuel of late has been a combination of caffeine and force of habit.  It hasn't done wonders for my good humor.  It finally reached a point yesterday where I nearly took the head off one student who dropped by for something.  At one point a student saw how glum I was and asked if I was okay.  I'm just worn out, I told him, and it's about the truth.

Finally the time came for me to leave this place.  I had more errands to run, and all of them were complicated by something.  I had to go by the newspaper plant to pick up our newspapers, but the street down by the plant is torn up for repaving.  Alternate route.  Then stuck behind slow traffic on the way to big city for car repair.  Alternate route.  Stuck on Interstate among convoy of trucks alternately doing 55 and 75 depending on the terrain, blocking both lanes of traffic.  No alternate route.  Finally make it to town for lunch at a favorite deli, and that part went well.  Lunch made me feel somewhat better.  Then to a bookstore for a few minutes.

And then to car dealership to see what was up with this brake warning light, and to get routine service while I'm there.  Or, at least, that's what I understood.  The service writer was all over it from the time I got there, and I went into the waiting area.  I had my laptop computer with me, and the waiting area had free wi-fi, so I stayed busy checking work e-mail and catching up on some long-form correspondence.  After about an hour and a half, the service writer came and talked to me.  They ran the diagnostic, and it could either be something that's an intermittent glitch or a $3000 repair job.  Either way, the car is still safe to drive because even if the ABS fails, the normal braking system will be fine.  It'll just be like every car I ever owned before this one, before ABS became ubiquitous.  Considering $3000 would approach (if not exceed) the current value of the car, it wasn't a hard decision.  In a few moments they had the car buttoned back up and ready to go.  I signed the paperwork, paid up, and went back to the car.

Then I took a second look at the paperwork.  I thought it was odd they'd only charged me the cost of the diagnostic test.  Yep, sure enough, they didn't do the routine maintenance I'd asked for.  So I had to go get that taken care of, which I did at the adjacent quick-lube shop run by the same dealership.  A few moments later, the car was all ready to go.

Then it became a matter of killing time until hubby knocked off work.  And killing more time.  Sporting goods store, then bookstore, and then waiting in the parking lot of the hobby shop.  Hubby's currently involved in a really big job at his work site, and that meant he got off work a little later yesterday.  So I had to wait a good while.  Finally he got there, and we visited in the shop with the guy we know there.  Then it was off to the grocery store.  I warned hubby that I wasn't especially feeling my happiest, because I was feeling run down and all that, and by the time we struck out for home, I was really feeling it.  Things were not helped by the fact we had to drive home through the second half of rush hour, had to dodge an accident on the main thoroughfare that had blocked off much of the road, and that I got stuck in the snarl of a part of town where the infrastructure hasn't kept pace with the rest of development. 

By the time I got home, I was basically uncommunicative.  I was too frustrated and exhausted, between the lack of rest and the day's frustrations.  I hoped to do something about it, too, and planned to hit the sack extra early last night.  So at a little before 9 pm, I turned out the lights and tried to settle in.  It took some time, but eventually I got to sleep.

And things went well until about 2 am, when our furry alarm clock/mighty tiger decided to knock some things down off mommy's nightstand.  That woke me up.  And once I was up, I couldn't settle back down.  There was too much on my mind.  I'd say 90% of it had to do with stuff here at the office, upcoming deadlines and various things I have to do for various people, along with a few frustrations that gnaw at me on a daily basis about which I can do precious little (such as, among others, unceasing interruptions that basically destroy my ability to concentrate).  What's ridiculous is that it's stuff I could have just written down on a list and left for later, but once I was up and thinking about it, I couldn't shut my brain down.  The thoughts kept tossing and turning.  And I tossed and turned for perhaps an hour, and then finally took a look at the alarm clock and saw that if I got to sleep, I'd only get an hour at most before the time things normally start to stir.  "What's the use?" I said, and I got up.  And at 6:30, I was in the office trying to get things cleared off my task list.

Some people would look at all this and say it's a recipe for just calling in sick and staying at home to recuperate.  Some of my students, for instance, would do that.  And once upon a time, the thought might have tempted.  But here's where being a professional comes in: the thought never crossed my mind.  I have a job here, and I have a responsibility, and I know I have to account for those days I do call in sick.  If I call in sick, I know it had best be for a legitimate reason.  The day last year when I could barely drive my car, and turned around and headed home halfway to work because that's how lousy I felt -- now, that's a sick day.  There's no way I would have made it through a day at work, the way I felt that morning.  What I'm going through right now?  This is a trifle, partly of my own making.  This isn't an illness.  This is something you grunt through.  Yeah, I may feel bleary right now, but I have a job I must do and a responsibility to keep.

But why does it matter, and why do I bring it up here?  Because by saying as much, you get a glimpse of my frustration with some types.  You get a glimpse, for example, of why I get frustrated by students who show up five minutes late, wearing their pajamas and still yawning, and get upset because I won't let them in class.  You get a glimpse of why I hate stories about "my alarm clock didn't go off."  You get a glimpse of this, and more.  You understand why it is I get frustrated when I treat my job like the job that it is, but must sometimes contend with students who treat college like they're on a cruise.  

I kind of feel bad writing about this, particularly at this length, but the vent does me some good.  And though I may feel rotten this morning, I am also a professional, and I have to be here -- like it or no, full night's rest or no.  This is what I signed up for.  There will be time for rest later -- tonight, I'm going to give turning in early another shot, and I also have a short day tomorrow, which may provide time for a catnap after lunch.  And this weekend, there's probably nothing going on; this will, I hope, finally give me time to catch up on lost sleep.  For now, though, I have to keep going.

Oh, it's all good

I made mention of some little things that have happened on this little trip, some little things I didn't expect, but didn't ruin the journey.  Take these, for instance.

1.  Thursday morning I got in the car and headed off for the Museum of Flight.  I'd followed my directions carefully.  As I drove near the museum entrance, I saw the Blue Angels C-130 parked on the ramp.  I thought, "Well, that's unusual, but neat."  Then I saw that the cops had blocked off the entrance to the museum, and that there were swarms of people walking toward the museum.  I had to drive up to the overflow lot past the airpark to find parking.  As I walked to the museum, I looked over across the street and saw six blue F/A-18s taking off.  Yep, completely without realizing it, I'd just happened to time my visit with an appearance by the Blue Angels.  Which, once I'd dealt with the swarms of people inside the museum (including the rampant kids who remind me why it is we only have a cat and plan to keep it that way) ended up being neat.  I've seen the Thunderbirds two or three times, but had never seen the Blue Angels.  Now I have. (And as an added bonus, I looked over and saw a large aircraft on taxi.  It had the number "787" painted on its tail.  Then when I was driving along later, I looked up and got to see one of the very first 787s flying around.  It's neat to see something like that so early on.  You truly can say you saw it back when.)

2.  Tuesday night I got in at the Doubletree.  I'd opted for the package in which all the fees (parking, web access, etc.) were included.  I'd also gotten a deal on an upgrade that only cost me a little extra each night for a primo room.  This one was a corner room with a wraparound balcony.  Great room.  But I couldn't get online; it kept prompting me for billing information or a promo code.  I spent 45 minutes trying to get help: trying to call the front desk (no answer, as they were swamped), calling the toll-free support number, and finally going down to the front desk to resolve it, which took all of 20 seconds and was blindingly obvious (just bill it to the room and they'll remove it from the charges). 

And that corner room?  Happened to look out on a busy cross street.  With a lot of truck traffic.  And a steep downhill.  Which meant a lot of Jake brake action. 

On the other hand, while waiting in line for help, the staff was handing out chocolate chip cookies for those of us who were waiting.  I'd already been given one at check-in.  And now I had a second one.  Nice.  As for the Jake brake action?  A good set of earplugs made it all go away at bedtime.

3.  Thursday afternoon I was getting everything ready to head back to the airport.  Earlier in the day I'd picked up a box and some packing supplies at a Staples store.  I was concerned because one item I'd bought, a surplus road sign, was large but very thin and stiff.  So I bought the biggest box I could find.  I thought I was set, and at my last stop, a Fred Meyer (to the uninitiated, think of it as a store very much like a Wal-Mart Supercenter, only less evil), I filled the car up, and then went inside and bought two drinks and a candy bar.  Out in the parking lot, I put the box together and started to pack everything up.  Well, the sign wouldn't fit.  Worse, it split the box open.  I had to figure out what to do.

I went back in in hopes of finding another box, one that would let me ship everything in one box.  I found one that was big enough to fit everything in, but would have a lot of empty space inside.  But it would work.  I also bought more bubble wrap.  The same cashier did the checkout, and she remembered me.  It was a funny little moment.

So back to the parking lot.  I put the new box together and start packing.  Right when I thought I had everything ready to go, and I started to seal the box for good...I ran out of tape.  (That's when the Rockford Files-type harmonica music starts to go "wah-wah" in the background.)  So it was back into Fred Meyer for a third time for more tape.  But with a different cashier this time.  This time, there was enough tape, and all was right with the world.

4.  Oh, yeah. The voyage to Fred Meyer was a journey in itself.  I'd gone there from a stop at a bookstore in Des Moines, followed by lunch at a Red Robin (yummm).  On the way out, I missed a turn and ended up going well out of my way, but eventually ended up back at the highway I wanted.  But which way, left or right?  I thought I remembered that "right" was the way to go, so I did.  Which, of course, was incorrect.  So a few miles up, when I realized the error of my ways, I did a legal U-turn and headed back.  Where, of course, the Fred Meyer sat waiting, not a mile from where I'd joined back up with the boulevard.  (And, yes, more of that Rockford music drifted by in the background.)