Misplaced

Posted on 17 June 2006

I am at Susan and David’s house, sleeping in an alcove in a room that looks out over the Esplanade, a room where I spent many happy hours at Susan’s feet, talking about everything under the sun. I look out the window and there is a thick mist over the valley. Shannon and Jim, our guests/renters arrived yesterday afternoon. (I thought they were to arrive the 15th but Shannon tells me it was to be the sixteenth.) How strange to see Shannon on the streets of Castelnau in her LJ clothes. I knew her as a customer at the store first and then this wild affectionate woman began inviting me to her home for feasts that she and Jim often prepared together. (I took them to the large grocery store last night and Jim was in heaven – Shannon tells me that he loves food stores as much as she loves LJ.) She also has taken a few courses with Marlene so I find our interests in Body/Soul collide as well.

I cleaned our house till it shone. Before they arrived, I walked through each room thinking how beautiful all looked. I even waxed the dining room table. What is it about a clean sparkling house that makes me feel so good? Perhaps Basil was right when he said I missed my profession: I should have been a cleaner. Susan has noted to others that I’m very good at laundry… my mother and all my mothers before her would be proud. How I wish I could make my writing shine so well.

This morning, Susan and I leave for Germany. David will drop us off in Albi at the car rental place and then, my older friend and I will hit the road. All I have to do is drive. Susan will navigate. She has planned the schedule, the “interesting” places where we will stop for the night. I think she has me driving up to eight hours a day… so Kate, if you’re reading this, Susan is not following MapQuest’s route that you so kindly sent. Heaven knows when we’ll arrive at your doorstep. I’ll call you en route, and let you know where we are…

And for my family and friends who like to know what I’m up to, I’ll blog again at Kate’s – she made me last time so I imagine her, stick in hand whipping me into shape once again.


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