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Saturday, Aug. 07, 2004 / 1:14 p.m. ~Change In the Weather, Changes In Me~ The first thing I noticed was the quality of light, as if someone turned a knob, darkened the world, just a bit. It seems softer, muted, subdued. Darker in the morning, darker earlier, but again, as if a screen has been placed between us and the sky, or a filter. We talked about Autumn and Autumn Festivals, and how crowded some are, but I was positive and said some are worth it, you pick the right time of day it's not so bad. We'll go, she and I. And the air, we talked about the air, how clear it is, how much cleaner, how even ten degrees lower can make the biggest difference in temperature, five degrees, it's cooler, we can feel it. It's too early yet, there are Dog Days to endure, there is Indian Summer, but there are those little pumpkins they sell at the grocery store, and little girls' socks with ghosts and goblins on them, multicolored leaves to crunch underfoot on the ground. I feel it, I'm ready for it, I feel an excitement about it all. Yesterday morning I woke with that excitement, I felt I wanted to tackle every project I could think of, do everything I've put off for so many months, thinking how the weather would no longer get in my way, and I could turn on the fan in the window, turn off the a/c, pay off my $95 electricity bill and not have another like it for a whole year! At lunch I got in my car and saw a beautiful light green insect with long green wings on the driver's window, tried to shoo it outside, but it flew into the car instead. I cupped it in my hand, so delicate I was afraid I'd break it, and carried it outside, stepped away from the car and watched it fly away slowly when I opened my hands. At Publix they were outside grilling hot dogs and hamburgers. Inside a woman gave away free samples of food, and it seemed like a block party, I wanted to stay and shop and partake of everything. Instead I bought my juice and milk, forgot my coffee beans, and the man who sold me my lottery ticket told me the numbers must have been switched on my last one after I told him I didn't win and he'd said they were the winning numbers. We smiled at each other in a flirting way. I bought a grilled hot dog to go, ate it plain, in the car, on my way home, and it was the best tasting hot dog I've ever eaten. Grilling beats boiling on the stove any day. When I got to my apartment door there was a light green insect with long green wings, looking so delicate, like I'd break it if I got too close. I had to shoo it from my door, and wanted to take it as some sort of sign. But of what, I don't know. On the way back to work, after putting my juice and milk away, and hugging and kissing the cats, bagging some things for the trash, then stopping to pick up a free weekly at the liquor store, I got on the highway and drove behind a big boat of an old car from the '60s or early '70s, something white and wide, with litte pointed fins on the back, so wide the two occupants in the front seat (no buckets in this car) seemed miles apart. He drove, she sat with her long blonde hair blowing in all directions in the wind. Their license plate said Ontario, and he drove slowly so I asked aloud if he drove like that all the way down from Canada, and then noticed that she finally brushed her hair from her face, and I thought 'I bet he likes her hair long, she grows it for him' as I pulled off at my exit. The ride felt dreamy, the light still muted, filtered, and the wind blew, the 'front' moving in, and nothing seemed unsurmountable. I ate takeout from the Chinese Buffet after work, surprised to see so many people there at 5:00 on a Friday, and noted they all seemed foreign, most Mexican, and some African man talking on a cell phone. I came home and ate heavy greasy good Chinese food and felt sleepy immediately. I purposefully washed up before lying on the sofa just after 8:00, chose a channel on the TV to sleep to, and woke at 5:30 a.m. with Norma beside me, turned off the TV and got up to go to bed. More sleep with fan in window, cool and nice, waking to dreams of my old house, and the clothes I still have in the closet (only in my dreams), sifting through them to find something to wear, no time to come home, must find clothes there, clothes hanging since the early '80s. Not even musty. Then Jeff Buckley's "Dream Brother" was the soundtrack and some boy was ill and in bed, and it was so strange and nonsensical I think I forced myself out of it. Now it's a day, it's cool, below 80, and yes that is cool compared to mid 90s every day, a constant heat index of high 90s, and torturous meanderings in the Easy Bake Car. I've promised to clean the interior of said car, to be the driver for tonight's midnight movie with friend/former coworker/new work contact and her roommate. I wonder if I won the lottery last night. Cost of the War in Iraq
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