seekerofvisions
04-23-2007, 03:46 PM
I had a nice, busy and yet somehow relaxing weekend. On Friday l watched Freedom Writers. Good, albeit sad, movie about Long Beach's Wilson High School just after the riots.
Saturday, drove out to Silverado Canyon for a fellow employee's candlelight party. My whole department was going so I decided, what the hell, I'll go. I got lost and found myself in some other canyon on the way there. I had to (really, really, badly) use the restroom. I nearly stopped over at a port-a-potty when I saw a Fire Station and nearly stopped in there, when I saw a garden of cacti and horse ranches and decided I would just call Susan, whose party it was, to see how far I was from her house before pulling over and peeing in the cacti garden. Turns out I was way, way, way past her house and in some other part of canyon country so I turned around. I drove and drove and drove until I was on a two lane highway and saw the neighbourhood library which was on a small strip of pavement. I walked in and saw a guy on the solitary computer and a short woman with long thinning hair being pulled back with a plastic butterfly barrette sitting behind a table surrounded by cats. I begged her to let me use the bathroom, promising that, although I am a stranger to the mountainous community, I am safe. I passed through the one room library into a bathroom/broom closet/kitty bathroom/kitchen to excuse myself. After washing my hands I wandered out and told her that I was lost and was about to cry because I felt so far from home. The neighbourhood library’s calico mascot cat, Megan, lumbered her way over, all 20 pounds of her, and rubbed against my leg and then made three attempts to jump onto a nearby chair. Lorraine, the neighbourhood librarian, calmed me down and opened a drawer to extract a 9x11 hand drawn map covering canyon country which showed all of 5 lines of paved streets and a slew of feathering bumpy packed dirt offshoots along with a spackling of upside down v’s indicating mountain ranges which created the surrounding canyon. Lorraine pointed with a warbly hand to the ¼ inch indication of street that I needed in order to reach my friend’s house. I was warned that I would lose reception on my cellphone, “so, try not to get lost.” With this new found, albeit warbly, confidence I set out to find Susan’s house which, was just past the neighbourhood café, saloon, firehouse and postoffice which constituted “downtown.” Two miles down the two lane highway was a wooden, hand painted sign tacked to a mighty oak that indicated Susan’s street. Street is being generous when describing the bumpy hard packed dirted ¼ of a mile pathway that housed a hand full of homes surrounding large and old trees. No asphalt for this street. I was greeted by Susan who was happy to see I made it to her house, which stood large and grey against the lumpy side of a hill. Behind her house was a babbling brook and a home doubling as an artist studio tacked into the side of the hill with a wooden deck housing about 20 statues.
Sunday, I did nothing more than watch Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and go to lunch with a friend because I was struggling with the worst migraine I’ve had in ages. The room was spinning, lights were flashing and I wanted to vomit. This migraine lasted until past 2:30 am and I was worried that I would visit the er, but then thought, “really, what are they going to be able to do for me?” So, I tried my best to sleep through it. I finally fell asleep and what seemed like two minutes later the alarm went off. I didn’t have the migraine, but I had the somnolence that follows lack of sleep and the strength of prescription meds built to fight off a migraine.
Saturday, drove out to Silverado Canyon for a fellow employee's candlelight party. My whole department was going so I decided, what the hell, I'll go. I got lost and found myself in some other canyon on the way there. I had to (really, really, badly) use the restroom. I nearly stopped over at a port-a-potty when I saw a Fire Station and nearly stopped in there, when I saw a garden of cacti and horse ranches and decided I would just call Susan, whose party it was, to see how far I was from her house before pulling over and peeing in the cacti garden. Turns out I was way, way, way past her house and in some other part of canyon country so I turned around. I drove and drove and drove until I was on a two lane highway and saw the neighbourhood library which was on a small strip of pavement. I walked in and saw a guy on the solitary computer and a short woman with long thinning hair being pulled back with a plastic butterfly barrette sitting behind a table surrounded by cats. I begged her to let me use the bathroom, promising that, although I am a stranger to the mountainous community, I am safe. I passed through the one room library into a bathroom/broom closet/kitty bathroom/kitchen to excuse myself. After washing my hands I wandered out and told her that I was lost and was about to cry because I felt so far from home. The neighbourhood library’s calico mascot cat, Megan, lumbered her way over, all 20 pounds of her, and rubbed against my leg and then made three attempts to jump onto a nearby chair. Lorraine, the neighbourhood librarian, calmed me down and opened a drawer to extract a 9x11 hand drawn map covering canyon country which showed all of 5 lines of paved streets and a slew of feathering bumpy packed dirt offshoots along with a spackling of upside down v’s indicating mountain ranges which created the surrounding canyon. Lorraine pointed with a warbly hand to the ¼ inch indication of street that I needed in order to reach my friend’s house. I was warned that I would lose reception on my cellphone, “so, try not to get lost.” With this new found, albeit warbly, confidence I set out to find Susan’s house which, was just past the neighbourhood café, saloon, firehouse and postoffice which constituted “downtown.” Two miles down the two lane highway was a wooden, hand painted sign tacked to a mighty oak that indicated Susan’s street. Street is being generous when describing the bumpy hard packed dirted ¼ of a mile pathway that housed a hand full of homes surrounding large and old trees. No asphalt for this street. I was greeted by Susan who was happy to see I made it to her house, which stood large and grey against the lumpy side of a hill. Behind her house was a babbling brook and a home doubling as an artist studio tacked into the side of the hill with a wooden deck housing about 20 statues.
Sunday, I did nothing more than watch Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and go to lunch with a friend because I was struggling with the worst migraine I’ve had in ages. The room was spinning, lights were flashing and I wanted to vomit. This migraine lasted until past 2:30 am and I was worried that I would visit the er, but then thought, “really, what are they going to be able to do for me?” So, I tried my best to sleep through it. I finally fell asleep and what seemed like two minutes later the alarm went off. I didn’t have the migraine, but I had the somnolence that follows lack of sleep and the strength of prescription meds built to fight off a migraine.