20 May 2014
Hot Day Lunch Date
What for the juxtaposition...
It was positively hot as my daughter and trekked along the Notch to get a lunch of Mex-'Merican at the cantia down valley. I mean, it must have been seventy if it was a degree. I told my daughter perhaps the house would need to be outfitted with an air conditioner.
She asked me if I missed the city at all and I reminded her how the junction, six miles from my front door, is too far east these days. I mentioned how when I lived in the historical district, I quite enjoyed it, but there came time to leave. No, I do not miss the metroplex in the least, but nor do I regret my time there, for I also experienced a spark of uniqueness and adventure amongst the neon and back-alleys.
"Does this ever get tiresome?" A traveler with a thick Arkansas accent asked me the other day.
"Oh, it can be tough," I said quite gravely. "In the years I've been here I've had to hike, bike, mountain climb, rock scrabble, roadtrip, snowshoe, get beer from small breweries and attend festivals. It's been perdition." I sighed heavily. "But I take that bullet, nay, shoulder that burden. For the team."
It was shocking enough that he didn't believe me, but it bordered upon insulting when he started to laugh, as if I was joking!
"Imagine," my daughter said with a chuckle after I related to her that tale. "Dad, you're proud that you live where others come to vacation."
"Pride is a sin," I retorted. "It was taught to us in a moving picture show with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman, and you know those things don't lie."
"Dad, you're a Buddhist," my daughter said. "And you once told me you don't believe in sin."
Contemptuous fucking whelp. She gets this from her mother, you know. Stop fucking snickering!
After a lovely lunch of build-your-own tacos and burritos we cut up the canyon, which the narrow gage railroad snakes up. From the time we left in the late morning to our walking back time, more leaves had appeared on the aspens. The deciduous finally putting on their summer plumage at ninety-one sixty. It filled me with joy. We concluded our afternoon sitting in the adirondacks along the east side of the house with the hot sun caressing our faces. With a wicked grin of joy I recalled what I said to an acquaintance as I introduced my daughter;
"This is the true love of my life. Sabina is the other woman."