“You know, I wish I was just a Fry Girl at McDonald’s. Then you could pick me up on your moped after work and we could go bowling and you could tell me how sweet you think I smell with grease and pickles all over me.”

-me, to Shane

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There used to be a bookstore across the street from the building where I worked at the corner of 7th and Adams in Olympia. Four Seasons. I don’t think it’s there anymore. It was in this great old building, the steps were big and majestic and the doors were like the old schoolhouse doors you’d have to pull hard on and pry all the way open so they didn’t close on your limbs.

Inside it was all old, plank hardwoods, with an old fireplace at one end with two armchairs for sitting and reading. On the other side was an old fashioned coke and ice cream fountain counter, where you could get coffees and pastries and other things to sit and read with. There was a staircase separating the two areas, leading up to a small, loft-like room with old windows and low ceilings and rust-colored carpets. There were bookshelves upon bookshelves up there of things that weren’t for sale. That’s where they would hold their workshops and lectures and writing and reading group meetings.

I remember taking a 3-day adventure writer’s workshop led by an eccentric and talented mountain-man and voluntary transient from Nome, Alaska. God I wish I could remember his name. I used to spend my lunches over there, headphones on, thumbing through books. That’s where I bought my first Milan Kundera. That’s where I first got involved in book reviewing. That’s where I’d go for coffee, even when I wasn’t at work, even though it was at least a 15-minute ride from Steilacoom.

Feels like a long time ago, Seattle. I wonder how things would be different now had I stayed.

This morning in Reno it rained hard and angry, later turning itself reluctantly over to soggy, spitting gray drizzle. That’s what reminded me. Last night at 3am, I thought I felt my body cave in. Today my head won’t be quiet and my heart won’t settle down.

Something’s building.

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