Of the many labels that fit me, directionally-challenged is probably close to the top of the list. I have no, or perhaps I should say –  NO – sense of direction. I really could get lost in the proverbial paper bag.

Case in point, when I first moved to North Dakota I lived in Kindred. My first week there I got lost in Kindred. And no, I am not talking about being out on the outskirts of town on a dirt road somewhere…I am talking about the city proper – all five streets of it.

Seriously, when God was handing out internal compasses I must have been circling the block trying to find where I was supposed to be to get mine. If I have to go anywhere new I need detailed directions. I have to laugh when folks tell me to go north for two blocks then go west. You might as well speak Swahili to me.

If it is an area I am familiar with that has strong landmarks (such as restaurants and stores) I generally fare a bit better, but even then I can get mighty turned around with little to no effort. It helps if directions are very clear cut, such as – turn left at Taco Bell, turn left at the street after Barnes and Noble and park at the house with the giant snowman family on the lawn…that I can do. I do an awful lot of MapQuesting for those occasions when there is no Taco Bell at the ready to be of directional assistance. I consider MapQuest to be the closest thing to an internal compass transplant.

I also follow other folks when I can to avoid the inevitable wrong turn I will take if left to my own devices. Unfortunately, even following someone does not always work. The other day I was following someone back from an area in Fargo that I had not been to before. I wanted to go back to the university, so as soon as I started seeing landmarks I recognized and realized 12th was close by I gained confidence and I turned on 12th.

It wasn’t until I was in front of Moorhead’s Public Works building that I realized I had probably gone the wrong way. By then I had already blown past the toll booth which I didn’t even realize I had to stop at (in my defense there was no bar blocking the road…shouldn’t there be a bar?). I reconciled my error with profuse apologies, an explanation of my directional challenges, and an admission of stupidity when I arrived back at the toll booth to go back the way I had come. The toll booth operator let me off with a stern admonition that I needed to stop at the toll booth the next time I was lost…you know – violators are prosecuted.

I did finally go in the correct direction on 12th and arrive at the university, but I was decidedly worse for the wear. Folks have suggested that I need a GPS unit for my car to help me navigate the big, scary, direction-filled world. I surmise they are probably right, but I cannot imagine relying on a talking machine to find places. Can’t folks just tell me where things are in relation to the Taco Bell or Dairy Queen? Life would be so much easier that way…fattening, but easier.

Day one hundred and fifty-eight of the new forty – obla di obla da

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