The past few days encompassed many hours in the car that looked like this ^ and sounded like Jim Dale, punctuated by Dad's pretty words when Mishu yowled inconsolable in the backseat. I'm pretty proud of how well she's doing bouncing from place to place. And once, she ambushed a toll collector with her cuteness, like a feline Carebear stare. I heard the collector's "Aww!" as we drove away.Chicago:
was great fun - watching Tootsie in the park with Sarah, Annie and friends. It's the first time I've ever witnessed the Second Wave causing the Wave - folks were cheering mighty loud when Dustin Hoffman's character called out her chauvanist boss, naturally. But also when s/he first put on her drag just to walk down the street, and also when she had a photo shoot montage with Cosmo? Apparently, Chicago's a supportive town. True for me as much as for actors in drag: Sarah and I essentially had a slumber party, and it was great to stay up late chatting and kvetching and sharing a pillow. I maintain that the amount of support I've received in the last two months has blown my mind and touched my heart. My network is far-flung but securely woven. I love it, even if those points on a map are visited seldom.Omaha:
The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that mass-produced pie was worth the time it takes to chew it. It ain't. Maybe I'm spoiled, but it sure ain't.
Meanwhile, back at The Ranch:
So much feels like it's made out of cardboard and plaster here. With my niece and sister, we visited yet another pizza/gaming/rides/tokens/tickets/prizes extravaganza with strategically dim lighting (disconcerting). Skeeball is awesome wherever you go, though.
Last night, there was a "Soulful Dance" concert on the community green. I learned that during a Michael Jackson hip-hop medley, even suburban neighborhood kids can really kick it. I think that's just the amazing, unselfconscious power of kids. And even (especially?) toddlers appreciate Boom Boom Pow.
Tomorrow we hit the road again. I'm anxious to go, even though I could stay here with P and Michele forever, chilling at the playground and getting tipsy off of a beer and a half (altitude). But my To Do list looms, and my big box o' stuff rumbles ever Westward. Poor Mom, I want to get to Portland before she is doomed to haul my queen mattress into the garage all by herself.
Part of me has always felt that everything on the road East of Denver is killing time. What can I say? I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Western girl. Just-- This, always this:
How can you not?
I am so jealous of that landscape.
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