Post date: Aug 31, 2010 1:08:08 PM
I'll have no wine today. I woke up, did the packing routine, took another long and very pleasant shower (when people didn't use the flush toilet) and then drove to the front to pay. A thought flashed through my mind "I could just go without paying, they would never notice, they aren't stopping people on their way out. But I would never to do that, it isn't my way. So I stopped, went in and paid. I mentioned that I could have just gone (that is like not leaving a tip for a good meal to a waitress. Anyway, I asked to borrow a needle nose pliers. They didn't have it to lend. So I walked out to the Montero, and saw that one of the tires was flat. I had seen a gas station 1/4 mile away, so I drove thre at 10 mph, took the bike from where it was mounted on the spare, used the jack in the Monte, which was great, and popped both off and put them on swapped places. I fixed the tire myself at the station. I checked the air in all 40 pounds each. Filled the empty and went. Now I'm at a roadside restaurant just before I get back on the highway. I'm reading the local paper, The Town Crier. It is one 8'x12' sheet folded over. But it seems to be a daily. I'm feeling pretty weak right now, I think I might be sick. A burly blue dirty with oil t-shirted man in green work pants just lumbered in and found a seat at the coffee bar on a stool. He wears black thick heeled boots or work shoes. There is a definite country farm motif in the decoration of this place. A sign above the kitchen, with a cute little cow says "Love One An Udder." There are Holstein cows everywhere, and red barns. It's called Maggie's Country Diner. The waitress, not mine, but one who saw me writing here before, asked me if it was a journal. I said "I'm a writer." She said "So am I. But I don't have any time." Now, she came and shared a secret moment with me. She stretched the softest side of her face to me (the right side) and the rest was taught as she said "Don't you just hate it when you can't write?" "Actually I don't" "It drives me crazy" she said. "As soon as my kids are grown, I'm going to do what you are doing." She's a lovely older blonde with bangs and a short by hooked nose. Her face is wrinkled up to her lips, but they look tight and muscular. She looks like she could talk, her head slightly tilted to the right forever. I drove on through Massachusetts toward Brighton.
Mohawk Wayside Rest Service Station,
I just phoned Mary's mother and got her address and phone number in Gloucester, Mass, 40 miles NorthEast of Boston. There is a young woman in front of me now, who looks terribly confused. She stares off in one direction as if searching for a ship hours late in arriving. Then the moment and desire (longing) fades, and she joins her mother on the way to Fun Lane, a video arcade. Minutes before I had noticed her inside the gift shop, stretching her upper torso in one arabesque, and then the other. Then crossing both arms behind her head, catching and lifted her balled brown pony tale, lifting and falling shortly. I'm enjoying a Bryers Butter Pecan waffle cone, after the toasted cinnamon-raisin bagel, it was luscious. It is time to go, for all the people now are the same; old with muscular legs and only close up wrinkles.
Spring Grove, MN
Rachel made squash manicotti when I arrived home with olive oil and grated cheese on top. We went to auditions for "Blithe Spirit". It had begun to rain, so we borrowed some umbrella's from the opera house and went to the Downtown bar with Sara and Sarah. We went home again when the rain finished.
Beautiful day for a ride on the motorcycle, first to work, then lunch, which I shared with Elyse and Sharon, sitting next to the 2nd funniest man in Iowa's family at Koreana. After work, I joined Abe for a drink outside at the Courtyard, or whatever is now a bar near the outdoor cooler at Cafe Deluxe. We will both head over next to Poker Night at Sarah and Mark's house. Ah, Labor Day weekend will be grand. Just got invited to Bethany and Tyler's Sunday BBQ. Awesome.