Monday, November 9, 2015

Today, I went back to work. 

People could not have been kinder to me. (What-do I work in Candyland or something?) One guy looked at me funny--like when you've been waiting for someone who's really late and you're furious and at the same time overjoyed to see them again. Julie-the sweetest individual on the planet-she made sure I was okay and Lori-my boss-SHE was extra-double nice and Kelly-sent messages of cheer via cellphone and everybody was exceptionally gentle and for that I will be eternally grateful. 

I worked for four hours and came home and slept for 2.5. I forgot how much I like to look at the people. There was a woman with a cinched-kinda peachy-orange jacket and she had a sheer peachy-orangey scarf over her hair-like a loose hood and dark blue rolled cuff jeans and boots. It was quite fantastic. 

I feel like Bill Cunningham sometimes. 

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Saturday we took a trip. We left late. Destination: cheese country.  The thinking here was like-hey as long as you're gonna be sitting around, why not be sitting in a car that's changing your scenery? 
All was swell, except I wore the worst jeans ever. Not covering my ankles(duh)and slicing into my tender underbelly but it was sunny and we were rolling and we were getting hungry and we saw a Taco Bell. 

I could eat a taco, said me. You sure? said P. 

But it was not to be. The drive-thru wasn't moving and when I went in-everyone was just standing around. We left late-I thought, we can't lose an hour over a schtoopid taco. So off we rolled. And we kept passing food signs but I wanted to eat something Wisconsinesque. And Wisconsin kept offering me Subway. (?) And by the time Subway started sounding doable-we stopped seeing Subways. 

We got to Lodi. There was a gas station/food combo(in retrospect ALWAYS suspicious) and I was probably too hungry but I designated myself as the chooser and I saw this pizza brand I'd never heard of and it promised 'Real Wisconsin Cheese'. Rocky Rococo? I picked us out a giant slice and I scored us a root beer float from the A&W. Another terrible selection. 

I think the pizza might have been what's known as 'Detroit-style'. Featuring pop-n-fresh dough-type crust, 5000 lbs of cheese and some nice mushrooms. It was really hot, so we focussed on the A&W and started in on the pizza and that's when I started feeling sorta queazy. 

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We got to a cheese place. It was Very Far. 

A cheese place-in this case-amounted to a couple of very tidy low buildings and a tiny store with 2 cases that featured their handcrafted cheese. I think they also recycled their cheese- crafting water in the next building. I didn't check it out because the counter lady squinshed her nose and said it was fragrant. 

After we made our purchases, we asked directions to get back to some sort of natural bridge and the woman became seriously Coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. She'd nearly missed colliding with six deer driving herself home the day before, she said. 

It was as if, she'd just become convinced we were certain to die in a deer accident on Saturday night. 

She went all Stephen King on our sorry asses.  

It was mating season, she said. The females are nuts. The males are always nuts. And this fine weather is making it worse. They'll leap out from the ditches along side the road and right up into your car. 

The only deer I'd seen so far were sliced up the middle and strapped to the back rack of a pick up truck. 

A to P: Ya know, you don't have to drive right behind them. 

Uggh.


Well. The next section of the ride was a tortuous nightmare. It started getting dark and I'd determined that my job was: Professional Deer Spotter. AND the root beer/pizza. The bad, bad pizza. 

The Red Roof Inn was hidden behind The Rodeway and Siri had to talk us in and my intestines were doing The Lambada and for the first time ever, we got a room on the second floor in the second building and stomach-wise, I was frantic and poor P, he got me up there and scoped the room for-I don't know what-and that's when I saw this: 





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I'm still doing a lot of looking around for things to make sense here. I think, is Mrs. King representative of the cancer dance and how crazy everything got? 

Ya know, one of the best things about going to work today, was that I came home with an armload of library books and one of them? I made certain was not a cancer book. 







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