You know those dirt roads I told you about? Well, the only person with whom I've driven them is my dad. It's kind of his territory, out there with nothing to see for miles but farmland. I guess you could say he introduced me to those roads.
And he introduced me to Eisley. Eisley Cemetary. Eisley's located a good two miles from any paved roads, and it probably doesn't have any more than, say, fifty gravestones.
"That's Eisley Cemetary," Dad once told me as we were driving by.
I imagine I looked at him with interest.
"There used to be a huge city here, big as New York."
"What happened to it?"
"It died out. All that's left is that cemetary."
I smiled.
My dad knows everything.
10/28/04
alvarado's
It's a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant on Davis Boulevard. Just to get in the place is a bit of a trick because you have to drive all the way around back to get to the parking lot.
So there I am, ten till three in the afternoon, ordering myself a couple enchiladas with rice and beans. Mexican food's been my default since moving down south, and my default off a Mexican menu is always chicken enchiladas with queso. The cashier kindly accepts my request for cheese instead of the traditional red enchilada sauce.
I settle down with my Pepsi in a booth near a window. (I've always got to be by a window. I think it's something about me and daydreaming... it doesn't work as well when all you have to look at is brick-shaped floor tile and Formica tabletops.) Someone said this place used to be a Dairy Queen, but the windows are now bordered with thick burnt-orange paint. I realize I could never bring my family here. Maybe my husband, but never my family. It's too personal. Too much like the dirt roads on which I used to drive home from work. Now, in the city, it's a new place to get away. No one's going to talk to me here. I might get a few stares, maybe a hello or two, but mostly just privacy... a place to relax.
But not today. Because I've just remembered I've got to be to work in ten minutes, and -- "no thanks I don't need salsa" -- I've just gotten my food. I barely dig into one enchilada -- burning my mouth in the process -- when I realize I've gotta fly if I'm not going to be late. I scarf down some rice and beans. The rest has to go in the trash.
I feel sick.
But it's not the food. The food was great. It's those eyes behind the counter, that Hispanic woman who took my specialized order, watching me throw that food away.
I rush out, too embarrassed to say anything.
So there I am, ten till three in the afternoon, ordering myself a couple enchiladas with rice and beans. Mexican food's been my default since moving down south, and my default off a Mexican menu is always chicken enchiladas with queso. The cashier kindly accepts my request for cheese instead of the traditional red enchilada sauce.
I settle down with my Pepsi in a booth near a window. (I've always got to be by a window. I think it's something about me and daydreaming... it doesn't work as well when all you have to look at is brick-shaped floor tile and Formica tabletops.) Someone said this place used to be a Dairy Queen, but the windows are now bordered with thick burnt-orange paint. I realize I could never bring my family here. Maybe my husband, but never my family. It's too personal. Too much like the dirt roads on which I used to drive home from work. Now, in the city, it's a new place to get away. No one's going to talk to me here. I might get a few stares, maybe a hello or two, but mostly just privacy... a place to relax.
But not today. Because I've just remembered I've got to be to work in ten minutes, and -- "no thanks I don't need salsa" -- I've just gotten my food. I barely dig into one enchilada -- burning my mouth in the process -- when I realize I've gotta fly if I'm not going to be late. I scarf down some rice and beans. The rest has to go in the trash.
I feel sick.
But it's not the food. The food was great. It's those eyes behind the counter, that Hispanic woman who took my specialized order, watching me throw that food away.
I rush out, too embarrassed to say anything.
10/11/04
to adam and amy...
...the couple we met at Barnes & Noble, of all places... two people we just bared our heart to, like we were fools, in desperate need of friends. And you know the amazing thing? You listened... you understood.
Maybe we are fools. But it just seemed like you are too... like your deepest pleasure is in being fools like us. Fools for Christ.
You've got our number. Maybe we'll never hear from you again.
But then again, maybe we will... because, although it was our night to need you, fools need each other sometimes, too.
Maybe we are fools. But it just seemed like you are too... like your deepest pleasure is in being fools like us. Fools for Christ.
You've got our number. Maybe we'll never hear from you again.
But then again, maybe we will... because, although it was our night to need you, fools need each other sometimes, too.
10/4/04
on rain
What is it with people, that they complain so adamantly about the rain? I love the rain, performing a symphony outside my window, accompanied by the rumbling bass of thunder.
"Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby." -Langston Hughes
Rain is like a healing balm, blanketing the dry brown grass.
"Many a man curses the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance to drive away the hunger." -Saint Basil
I love how rain announces the sovereignty of God without reservation. No one can silence the thunder or mellow out the lightning.
"Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains. " -Henry Ward Beecher
So you can look at me like I'm crazy when I say I hope for a storm, or when I admit that I wouldn't mind another shower. It won't change my mind.
"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather." -John Ruskin
"Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby." -Langston Hughes
Rain is like a healing balm, blanketing the dry brown grass.
"Many a man curses the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance to drive away the hunger." -Saint Basil
I love how rain announces the sovereignty of God without reservation. No one can silence the thunder or mellow out the lightning.
"Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains. " -Henry Ward Beecher
So you can look at me like I'm crazy when I say I hope for a storm, or when I admit that I wouldn't mind another shower. It won't change my mind.
"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather." -John Ruskin
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