I wake up on the couch again this morning. I blink a few times, squint to see the blinking VCR clock.

7:28.

Without moving I can tell it’s cloudy. And it’s quiet, strange for a Saturday morning in this house. I stretch, then realize someone had put an extra blanket on me sometime in the night.

By the time I sit up, I can hear Sarah whispering to Ryan in the other room, and I can hear Ryan telling her to go have breakfast and leave him alone to sleep. I smile, rub my eyes and call her out into the den to come see me. She comes out grinning and disheveled, like she’d been having a knock-down, drag-out fight with her teddy bear in her sleep. She climbs up on the couch next to me, sticks her feet out to show me the hole in the toe of her socks. I tickle her foot as I get up and stumble out to the kitchen to find some breakfast.

But we’re out of milk.

I make a quick mental list of anything else we’re missing while I hop around on one foot trying to slip on my sandals and look around for my keys at the same time. I throw on a sweatshirt over my t-shirt, but get outside and realize I probably don’t need it. I was right, it was cloudy, but some promising blue skies were starting to show themselves over the ridge to the west. I get in the rodeo and fire it up, yawning. K2’s head pops out in the hole under the fence to see what’s going on. I smile at his goofy dog face as I pull out of the driveway and onto an otherwise deserted road.

There is nobody for as far as I can see. It’s 10 minutes more to the store. I mess around with the radio, settle on Aimee Mann, and I drive.

Awhile later, I pull left at the stop sign and into the Scolari’s parking lot. Suddenly the town that was so fast asleep and peaceful a few minutes ago is buzzing with activity. Someone is grilling ribs in the parking lot in preparation for a community barbeque later today. Someone else is setting up the pumpkin array on the sidewalk. Neighbors chat alongside their array of trucks.

I walk in the store, stopping for a minute at the magazine rack to see of the new issue of our local real estate showcase is out. Score. I grab three or four copies. Milk is on the far side. I pass the pharmacy on my way, stop to grab another package of cough drops just incase. No, stop.. go back.. they’ve been to sweet. Grab sugar-free this time. Better. Get the milk. Pass the bakery, fresh donuts. I pick out a half dozen. I’m about to win Mom-of-the-Year (ok maybe not the whole year). I finish my mental list, and knowing I’m forgetting something, I check out.

I drive home with the little sun there is streaming in, warm on my face and arms. I’m tempted to roll down the windows but I catch sight of the cough drops on the seat next to me and decide against it. It’s only 10 minutes. Ok, I give in and roll the passenger side down halfway.

I pull in the driveway, keeping the car back far enough away from the b-ball hoop incase there’s a game later. I remember what I forgot - the stuff for the party tonight. I can get it later. The clouds are a little darker than they were when I left. I don’t hold out much hope for rain.

Posted by tee in de la vida, favorites, sense of place
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I just got back from a very nice, very internally productive ride down into the city. God I love that drive around McCarran Boulevard at night. I sweep down Sparks Boulevard and out to Vista and I honk - just to say out loud that I was close by - and then I wind back up until Vista meets Greg and then Greg becomes Terminal and Terminal becomes Plumb and I get back on 395 and I drive the 15 some-odd miles away from the lights and back home again. And by that time the cough medicine, hopefully the last night I need any, starts to kick in and by the time I pull in my driveway I’m satisfied with having gotten out in the open air for a little while again.

I think I needed to go; there were things out there on that road I needed to make my peace with. The kind of peace that solders something into its place within your history, the kind that you can’t say anything to but just hope there’s an awareness, a mutual understanding with. Like leaving an old, comfortable house you’ve adored and counted on for years and years, in an inevitable need to go now and explore beyond it. Tonight was that moment, the moment you stand there with your last box in one hand, the door handle in the other, and you look back around in a bittersweet contentedness with the decision to go. One last time you smile before you pull the door closed.

You’ll remember the house. You’ll miss it. You just don’t need to live there anymore.

Posted by tee in de la vida
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COLD SNAP BLAMED FOR LOCAL RESIDENT’S BIZARRE BEHAVIOR

Reno, NV., Oct. 24 — In what can only be described as a casualty of the inevitable defeat of indian summer, local officials today have now confirmed that Tonya Poole of Reno, NV was spotted early this morning wearing a sweatshirt, long thermal underwear, and, allegedly, socks. Neighborhood residents are gathering in the community center at this hour to offer support to one another, and to try and cope with what many consider to be the beginning of the end here in this quiet, desert community.

“Oh my God, I just, I couldn’t, it was awful,” said local resident Benita Masquez, “I was having my coffee and happened to glance out the window just as she was coming out to get the paper. I didn’t recognize her at first, but then I saw her face and said ‘Oh my God, that’s Tonya!’ and ran to get my husband.”

Clearly unnerved, Masquez went on to describe the scene as bizarre and disturbing, citing concerns for her children and pets in light of the alarming discovery. Unconfirmed reports from other residents include a particularly incriminating statement that not only were warm and practical articles of clothing involved, but that the sweatshirt, long johns and socks in question were all white.

“If these accusations are substantiated, this small community could be in real trouble,” said Reno Mayor Jeff Griffin at an impromptu news conference earlier this morning. “However this is not a time for panic, but a time for unity and calm among neighbors. I ask for your full cooperation.”

It is not known at this hour if Poole is still dressed in the alleged warm winter clothing, but authorities promise a full investigation with details forthcoming at a press conference later this afternoon. Residents are asked not to panic, not to approach Poole under any circumstances, and to call the Community Emergency Preparedness hotline at 555-6859 if they witness the suspect wearing any additional items, such as scarves, ear muffs or footed pajamas.”

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From the spaceweather.com galleries.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I import this entry here now, seven years later, not because it was a memorable one in its own right but because five days later on October 7th, Shane would stumble upon my journal and comment on this photo, and therein begins our history.

Posted by tee in photos, sense of place
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