I responded to an email on a loop this morning, and a totally different person responded to my response, saying  that she loved reading my email because, since I write exactly the way I talk, she could "hear" my "voice" in her head.  Now, mind you she actually *knows* me in real life, so that's possible with her. Those of you that don't, well, you don't. But this is *me*, warts and all.

So, anyway, I hope to be able to spread my voice around this year with my writing but if not at least I've tried, and will continue to try. Reflecting on the past year I must say that I have learned a lot about writing, publishing, and myself. Well, I already knew a lot about myself; I am very comfortable in my own skin. I know the things I do well, and recognize the things I need to improve upon. But most of all I really like and appreciate the life I have and the people I have in it.

Yesterday I got a huge bonus; The Kid said to me, "I want you to know that I know how fortunate I am," and I waited for her to describe her room, or TV, or I don't know, something material, then she continued, "Because I have both of you. And you don't drink excessively, and Dad's alive." Apparently the friend she'd spent the night with the day before has a deceased father and an alcoholic mother.  Having her voice that sentiment made all the yelling and snarling she and I do dissolve. Until, of course, next time. But she found her voice, and was able to verbalize a feeling that many other would have just internalized, because for whatever reason they didn't feel the need to say it.

I want to thank all of you that come by here and visit, whether intentionally of by happenstance, because I appreciate your involvement, passive or aggressive. And if you decide to voice your opinion and jot down a comment or just keep them to yourself and lurk (you know who you are…) I appreciate it each time you consciously hit that "favorite" button or type in the blogspot  URL or google SLC Slave driver.

Anyway you get here, it's all good.  I wish for you a fabulous New Year filled with awsomesauce and cool beans. And may all your dreams come true. As long as they're legal. And they don't interfere with any of my dreams.

Dear Residents of the Salt Lake Valley and various parts of Idaho,

Section 1, paragraph A

There is one weekend a year where downtown is transformed from a relatively peaceful small market to a hellacious traffic cluster f*ck of epic proportions. Okay, two weekends. But only during one of them are carriage rides in high demand. The first weekend, which is inconsequential to the carriage trade, is spring Conference weekend. The Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus is almost always at the Energy Solutions Arena the same weekend as conference. Please note this on your calendar, either as a warning or as practice, since traffic is always cocked up. If you use this as practice, then note that the absolute worst weekend to drive downtown is around the second weekend in December. This is when the highly intelligent powers that be schedule the Christmas program at the Conference Center (capacity 21,000 plus 900 in the adjoining theater) a Utah Jazz basketball game (capacity 20,000) Kurt Bestor  Christmas show at Abravanel Hall (capacity 2811) and, of course the Nutcracker at the Capitol Theater (2260). We're not going to even count the number of people looking at the lights on Temple Square or attending a Christmas party at either the Joseph Smith Memorial building or any of the restaurants/hotels downtown. And God forbid they schedule anything at all at The Salt Palace Convention Center. So, if you plan on attending a function downtown on the Thursday, Friday or Saturday evenings on the weekend I have just mentioned, may I suggest you either take public transportation or, if you plan on driving, want to be on time and find a parking spot, leave your home at noon. If you are coming from southern Idaho, make it noon the day before.

It's no secret folks, if you have internet access you can look it up for yourself. Plan a little better for 2010, m'kay?

Section 1 paragraph B

Next item on the agenda; Orange cones. Orange cones serve as a warning. They mean, "Slow down" or "Caution" or "Don't freaking park here you moron." The ones we use are approximately two feet tall and are bright ORANGE so how a person can step out of their vehicle, (stopped in the middle of the street, blocking traffic, mind you) and trip over one shows me that they are either blind, stupid, or extremely obtuse.  If I were them I'd go with obtuse because I like the way the word rolls off the tongue. And some people don't know what it means, so they might even come off looking smart, which they're not. Because they're obtuse.

Section 1 paragraph C

When a pedestrian steps out into traffic and holds up their hand in the universal sign indicating "Stop," they are not taunting you into a game of "Chicken" but in fact want you to "stop." If you are unaware what the word "stop" means, see above section 1 paragraph B, because obviously you are obtuse.

  (41-6a-1002.   Pedestrians' right-of-way -- Duty of pedestrian.
     (1) (a) Except as provided under Subsection (2), when traffic-control signals are not in place or not in operation, the operator of a vehicle shall yield the right-of-way by slowing down or stopping if necessary.)

The fact that said pedestrian then allows a horse drawn conveyance out in front of you is superfluous to the operation. It is a universal truth that at Christmas time, we do in fact own the roads.

Section 1 paragraph D

When you make a reservation and Ro tells you over the phone that, "Your reservation begins at _:00 o'clock and ends at _:30", she's not kidding. Seriously. It's not that we like being mean (ok, well, I do) it's just that you're cutting into our income. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't appreciate someone cutting into your income. So don't be late. And if you end up being late because the highway was backed up for m i l e s, see section 1, paragraph A. The inability to manage the space/time/traffic continuum on your part does not constitute an "emergency" on mine.  

Section 2 paragraph A

There are four verses to Jingle Bells. Four. And the "Batman Smells" is not one of them. And quit starting Christmas carols so high on the scale that when you get to the chorus you sound like chipmunks caught in a bear trap. It's unbecoming and annoys the shit out of the horse.

Section 2 paragraph B

Don't tip me in candy. I'm not a trained seal, I work for money, not treats.  I don't hand your kids a cold beer, so don't give me a .99¢ box of chocolate covered orange sticks you got on sale at Walgreens.

Section 2, Paragraph C

Unless you have a reasonably intelligent question or your hair in on fire, don't talk to the driver, talk to each other. Any other time of the year we are both pleasant and informative. During Christmas, counter to the usual festive merriment of the season, we are tired, cold, hungry and surly.  Plus we are swathed in so many layers of clothing we are roughly the size of a Sumo wrestler, so it makes turning around to talk an exercise in futility. We are limberly challenged. So if your impetus for taking a ride is not to see the lights but in fact to have a conversation with a carriage driver, I suggest you come back in June. In June, we like to talk.

Section 3 paragraph A

Not every single horse we have is a Clydesdale, so quit telling your family that the horse I'm working with is a Clydesdale. We only have two Clydesdales; Bart and Libby, the rest are not Clydesdales. And be thankful Jumping-Percheron's Stacey no longer works for us or she'd rip you a new one for calling Wesson a Clydesdale.

Section 3 paragraph B

As much as we would like you to be able to, we do not allow the horses to eat while they are working. This is for several reasons: A horse like Charlie, if given a treat while on the street, will bug the shit out of everyone he possibly can begging for more. Really. He's a pig, with a giant ass. I know because I look at it all night long. Also, if given treats while working the horses come to expect it, and when your child walks up with sticky candy cane residue on their fingers, the horse might decide that a candy cane flavored finger would be a good treat too. And then you're stuck with a child who will eventually be given the nickname "Lefty" in school and one day they will climb a clock tower with a 30-06 and take their fingerless rage out on the world.

So bring out treats and give them to the driver. The nice carriage driver will take the treats back to the barn and feed the horsie his treats later. Horses, by the way, love medium rare filet mignon with twice baked potatoes and asparagus. Honestly.