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February - March 2007
HOW I SPENT MY SPRING VACATION |
People I know places I go
Make me feel tongue tied
I can see how people look down
They're on the inside |
The beginning.
- Part I
When I left the house I wasn't ready to leave. There was a sense that I was leaving something behind. Real or imagined. Tangible (the toenail clippers) or intangible (I don't know, I am pretty sure why I phrased the sentence that way). I was risking something.I don't know what. Maybe someone drops by the house; someone calls and wants to do something. Maybe I am abandoning something. Or a busload of college girls breakdown outside and need help a place to stay for the spring. Maybe that happens. I'm only gone for two weeks. It will still be there when I get back. The other thing. Not the college girls. . . (continued)
- Part II
Saturday afternoon was a day to get my bearings situated. As mentioned earlier - Phoenix is one giant traffic snarl. I am staying at an Extended Stay America hotel. Cheap. Basic. To the point. No frills. If I was going to do anything it would involve leaving the room. And the room ahs its own idiosyncrasies; the door jam is broken and the door takes three attempts to close, one of the outlets doesn't work...I'm not going to dwell on those. Normally I would and in great detail. . . (continued)
- Part III
Sunday was a planned full day. Baseball. Day spa. Time with the family. Not very often do you see those three things in the same schedule.
Sleeping Saturday into Sunday was a bit of an adventure. Someone down the corridor smokes. Constantly. It got so bad I had to get a towel wet and drop it at the door. Still, it seeped in. Cigarette smoke is only a botheration when it is unexpected or otherwise intrusive in context. A few times when leaving the room I glanced over at the scourge. The door to his room is open an the top of the refrigerator is full off empty beer bottles. . . (continued)
- Part IV
After my spa adventure I was off to Queen Creek to see Jay, Christy and Little Girl Kate. The last time I saw Kate she was Baby Kate. I'm not familiar with child growth spurts and when talking and stuff happens. I've been clueless of that for, forever. Children scare me. I feel they are radioactively allergic. If I knew why I'd try to explain it. There were lots of children around growing up since the Natina's tend to reproduce by spores annually. . . (continued)
- Part V
On Wednesday, I attempted to go running. That didn't work. Weeks ago when I started, I was doing an "old man shuffle" that replicated jogging. Now, I was unable to do that. I don't like pain. It's uncomfortable. I can bitch and moan about the slightest alteration in the fabric of life, but when it comes to actual pain, I simply become annoyingly reserved. Kidney stones and a trip to the Emergency Department? Walk home and then head into work for a few hours. A bout with some gastrointestinal virus? Just another reason why laptops are such a boon. Torn ACL? Prop me up and don't call any plays that involve me changing directions or rolling out. Wisdom teeth pulled? It's moving day and there's too much to do. . . (continued)
- Part VI
Friday night I was resolved to pre-packing duties and winding down the first leg of my adventure. I was on the phone for awhile with a friend who was just washed out and didn't want to head out for the evening. This is something of a trap I fell into years ago. Friday and Saturday are the traditional get out of the house nights. But as I have no social life of which to speak, rather moot, no?. . . (continued)
- Part VII
Saturday night was wrought with tales of dehydration and burning and packing. I suck at packing and traveling at times. I try to make lists and I try to follow those lists. Often I don't have time to make a list. Or have an excuse not the make a list. If I had as an entry on a list to make a list it would be a lot easier. . . (continued)
- Part VIII
On Monday night, I ended up at Pizzeria Uno. This is not uncommon. I am a H U G E fan of deep dish pizza. This is where, if you have ever been with me in a restaurant, you are waiting for the reveal. When it comes to ordering food I have a pattern that involves scrolling down a menu and finding something to strip down. I don't like a lot of colors, I don't like food touching and vegetables generally make me wince in terror. If a soup or salad comes with the meal and I am asked "...and what kind of dressing would you like on your salad," I generally give out a hearty, but see-through, sarcastic laugh, "SAL-ad? Oh, stop you're making my sides hurt!" Yah. I'm not a fan of the chunky or stewed tomatoes that generally gets flopped on top of traditional deep dish. I am not alone; many do not like the 'fleshy' tomatoes, either . . . (continued)
- Part IX
If you thought that I was going to let you in on the dream from Monday night, think again. I might reference it later, but you're not going to get the full gist of it. There aren't too many things that I claim as mine and mine alone. The things that happen in my head when I am asleep would fall into that category, unless I choose to share them with you. Usually, because you are involved, in which case I want an explanation of why you were there. All of this, the writing I am doing about my thoughts and what I think, hell, that's up for grabs and open for debate . . . (continued)
- Part X
Unlike previous voyages to Madison, WI I made flight arrangements to avoid a 6:50 am flight. Also, I prefer the term efficient to cheap skate. Why pay for a hotel if you aren't going to maximize the room? Sure, okay. I wasn't really paying for it. An extra four hours of working out, grabbing gifts for friends and packing...and re-packing seems a lot more smarter than hurrying half-asleep to a six hour episode of sitting. Leaving later almost made the return trip almost bearable . . . (continued)
- Epilogue
If you think that I have been writing about you - I probably wasn't. Get over yourself. If I named you specifically, then I was writing about you. If not, then seriously - get over it . . . (continued)
- Afterward (RESTRICTED)
You don't know exactly what it is that I did and how profoundly stupidly I did it? I could sum it up in one sentence but I don't think you would really understand. You have probably guessed it was over a girl. Here's the sequence of events in short order: . . . (continued)
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