I'm sitting in my knitting chair, watching the changeable sky that seems to be the norm here. One minute pouring, the next shining sun. It makes for interesting clouds and light, constant moving and fighting creating strange holes and beams that disappear into castles in a moment. I'm sipping Huckleberry Cream Soda, and I just turned on the heat for the first time. I'm loving Montana.
But Robert Earl Keen is singing little barbs at me; I never really made it to Texas. Two days in Amarillo does not a Texas experience make. How is it that I managed to miss the two states I wanted to hit most? I've dreamt about Louisiana since I was a kid, watching terrible Van Damme movies where he tries to be a Cajun. And Texas... sigh. What have I done?
It's okay, my travelin' ain't over yet. I'll get there. But damn, I wish I had made it on this trip.
The miles that I have traveled, the places I have seen
Just won't let me put a saddle on this crazy cowboy dream.
And yet I wouldn't for the life of me change where I am right now. I guess it's just in me to be torn; I always want to be in two places at once. Or five places.
I braved my bat and strange bug-ridden kitchen yesterday in order to make cookies. Somethings are just too important to let little animals drive you away. I took a plate over to one set of neighbors yesterday, and I think I'll bring some to the others that welcomed me tomorrow. Really I'm only justifying the cookies for myself, but I can always convince myself that others need my cookies.
Jobs are good, although too much. Yes, I do have two jobs now. Silly me, I know, but the coffee stop won't be more than a few days a month as back-up, and I can now add barista to my ever-growing resume fodder. The motel is not holding to the 2 or 3 days I insisted on; I'm sure in a few weeks I will actually say something about it. It's just such a hard choice; sleep and housework, or money? Hmmm. I think the money might win for another couple of weeks.
Still no response from the bug, water, or house repair guys. Grrr. Everything went so quickly and well, and then ground to a halt. It seems like I haven't progressed at all in the past 2 weeks. I still can't take a shower longer than 5 minutes, the bugs still are twitching, and the floor still has spy-holes to the basement. And winter, it is a-comin'.
Speaking of winter, my cable sweater is coming so well!! I love love love it! I'm just asking for something terrible to happen, aren't I? I'm going to discover some terrible flaw in my math, or run out of yarn halfway through. I am using a pattern for a much chunkier yarn, so even with my loose stitches, I had to add 40 stitches or so to get gauge. But it will fit. Oh yes, it will fit.
If I could live my life all over, it wouldn't matter anyway. Because I never could stay sober on the Corpus Christi Bay.
Every state I visited around Texas had things to say about them Texans. I think it was in New Mexico that I heard gripes, often interrupted by wry chuckles, about the crazy trucks with Texas plates that came up to go four-by'ing. They sure knew how to have fun, even if they tore everything to shit in the process. In Amarillo I leaned about mudding, a leisure-time activity that basically consists of tearing around river beds in big trucks, spraying as much mud as you can.
Damn, what else did I miss? Someday...
By the way; pictures are on the way, just need to figure out how to get them where they need to go.
Also by the way; anyone else have dreams about freeways? I'm alternating between horrible nightmares about flooding and the same repetitive nightmare where I drive the same damn interchange, night after night, and yet I never get it right and always end up stuck on a multi-lane interstate with no exit until hell. Is this just evidence of my hatred of interstates, or is there a deeper meaning?