Time Changes

So Daylight Savings Time ended in Mexico last Saturday night. But it doesn’t end in the US until next Saturday. That’s OK, unless you are taking a flight at 7:15am on that Sunday following.

First, is the van service going to remember that the clocks moved back and pick you up at the right 3:30am? I couldn’t tell if they did or didn’t. They called at 3am to say they were at the front door. Were they 30 minutes early or 30 minutes late, but didn’t move the clocks back?
Second, did Continental Airlines get it right when they listed the flight times, ‘cause I didn’t want to miss the connection to California? They did have it right. But I still have had to switch my watch ahead 1 hour and then back 2 hours to keep it straight. What time is it anyway?

Another time change is the change between Mexico time and US time. It’s so evident when I come back across the border… both externally (watching the blackberries pop out as soon as I enter Intercontinental Airport in Houston in an effort to maximize how we spend time) and internally (just noticing my stride speeds up or slows down). Time is treated differently and I’m not convinced that we northerners have it quite figured out.

We held a birthday party for Jacob at our house. The assigned time for the party? 10am to 1pm. The first guests arrived at 10:48am. Over 50% of the guests were still at our house at 5:00pm. Why? We were having such a good time. And if anyone had somewhere else to go, it just became less important than being where we were and with whom we were with. It was a glorious day, and we all just enjoyed the time in the garden with laughter, beer and hot dogs.

Finally, I’m being convinced to buy a hammock. Why? Where else would you want to spend your time? Why I haven’t bought one, yet? I suppose it is because I don’t feel like I’ll be able to slow down enough to enjoy it. So I suppose I’ll really get the lesson of time that Mexico has to teach me when you find me in my hammock, spy novel on my chest as I snore away into oblivion.