Just for You

I attended my childhood ward today for church. A friendly, familiar face recalled one Sunday School class  she taught that I attended, and she opened the lesson by asking the class what the speed of sound is. She told me that I knew the answer, and that she asked the question knowing full well I’d confidently raise my hand with the correct response.

I don’t remember this. Go figure.

Why This Is A Pretty Great Oktoberfest Photo

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1. Tent – these kinds of events are best held outdoors, especially when the leaves are turning and with inordinate amounts of drinking going on.

2. Polka band – the moment I took this photo two accordions and a tenor saxophone were jamming. The band made polka look very, very cool. They were incredible! See the clarinet next to the other saxophone off to the side?

3. Liederhosen – does anyone else find the attire pretty sexy? Shorts and suspenders? Buttons and clasps? No one? Think about it, people.

4. Western European girl with very rosy cheeks and perfect little highlights – she came to have a great time, and she looks successful.

5. Steins of bier as big as one’s head – can someone explain the size of that beer receptacle? Also, you can’t see how the woman is holding it, which makes me think the ‘fest is haunted. Wouldn’t that make sense? Up at Bear Mountain? Beginning of autumn? Secluded area with a lot of drunk people? Why wouldn’t the ghosts want to come out and play and hold people’s frothy mugs while they polka and puke?

I had a brat with sauerkraut and onions that day. The perfect nip chilled the air under overcast skies. I watched my friends Lisa and Jason waltz and polka; we went on a hike; we watched kids on the haunted carousel, round and round, round and round.  ROUND and ROUND … Then we took the Metro North home and I finished getting ready for my own going away party. I have pictures of that as well. Oktoberfest, indeed.

Saturday Morning

There’s quiet in the city, and then there’s quiet in suburbia.

The city seems to sleep out of necessity. It sets an alarm and bounds out the door with a coffee  (diet Coke) and a bagel.

Suburbia wakes up whenever. Not that some people don’t get an early start. I mean, I had the choice as my body sprang awake nearly an hour before my alarm went off. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t want to.

The air conditioning is on. The fan from my laptop whirs, and that is all I hear. White noise. I guess I’m supposed to go back to sleep.

Weekends are as sacred here as I held them to be in the city.  It seems people celebrate them a little differently. And I guess that has nothing to do with geography as one’s desire when to roll out of bed.

I had intended to be running right about now.  I like my mornings a little busy, and the exercise does help clear my head.

But it also seems I like my weekend mornings a little lazy. Quiet, contemplative. In pajamas until at least noon.

I won’t go running. My legs are sore, so maybe I’ll just stretch and be lazy some more until it’s time to get hopping.

I’m not sure when that time will be. I’m very much enjoying the quiet.

Arachnid Florida

Florida has bugs. Lots of them.

So, people. Be glad I’m not dead. I headed out the door this morning for a run, and my eye caught some spiderwebs glistening in the sunlight. I made a note to try to take some photos when I got back.

I risked my life taking these pictures. I had to put the camera lens up against the webs. The webs billowed when the wind blew and the silky strands stuck to the camera. I was terrified the web would wrap around me, then the spider would finish cocooning me and finish me off for dinner.

I’m not sure what kind of spider it is. As you can see, it’s pretty ugly, but it didn’t seem to mind posing for the photos. It spun some beautiful webs, too. Maybe if I sit underneath them, the spider will spin lovely adjectives about me.

Heebie-jeebies. I still have them.

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Florida Morning

I don’t remember being this excited about driving through fog. The entire state is pretty much flush with the ocean, and it’s as if the clouds settle down upon the sea and peninsula, and they’re still asleep as some of us rise from our slumbers around 6am. We drive through the mist. Our commute parallels the state of our brains that early in the morning.

It’s a patchy fog, which means we get moments of clarity among stretches of translucence. The car’s headlights call out these early morning spirits, amorphous beings, gossamer souls who only evaporate as the dawn breaks.

Going north from Green Cove Springs on Highway 17, I cross a bridge over Black Creek. The dew point is no match for the water’s temperature, and maybe the span of the creek instantly dissolves the fog that tried resting on the glassy surface. The creek clears out a vista to the east, where the sun slowly unseals itself from some low clouds on the horizon.

I see it now; this morning belongs to me. I emerge from the hour, the fog, the eerie whispers. I settle into the heat, the humidity; and the sun begins its arc through the day. I am not melting. I won’t disappear.

Rest Assured

I’m having a good time in Florida. The weather started off a bit cool, but it’s warmed up rather nicely. It’s been a little jarring coming back to this reality.

I’m having a good time in Florida. I’m staying at Jenny’s for this short season. Her generosity has meant so much to me the 18 years we’ve known each other.

I have a lot to catch up on.

I’m fighting feeling overwhelmed.

And maybe a little angry.

I’m having a good time, though.