A nervous wigwam and a teepee with anxiety walk into a psychiatrist's office and they ask the psychiatrist, "What's wrong with us?" and the psychiatrist says, "Well, first of all, you're two tents."
On my quest to learn the names of all my favorite regulars, I've realized that I've inadvertently been building a skill that will benefit me greatly as a teacher with a class full of students. So I know that Peter is the guy with the mole, and I believe he fancies the americanos. I know that Christine commutes from Oakland. I now know that Erica's name is not Becca (but close!). Tamara's friend with the "A" name is Alison (which would've been my third guess). The pipe-tobacco guy is Michael. Eric and John Michael might invite me to their next game of disc golf. Holly is the woman with the face of an Amy that gets a soy latte every morning.
Jason's still out of town, so Tim is doing all the interviews this week. Found out Lucky is officially sticking around until next Friday to help smooth the transition (which, smooth as they can make it, probably won't be very smooth at all). New-girl Megan is doing well. She's got a boyfriend who commutes to San Francisco every day for work who she barely sees, despite living together (I think). Cody is Cody. Nick is Nick. Jessica is Jessica, working more evening shifts, now. Tyler's apparently changed his mind about the military because he's got a steady girlfriend. Devon and I are in a constant pretend-fight about something that never happened. The bakers are the bakers and I rarely see Joe or Stephanie anymore unless I visit Old Soul in the evenings. I haven't seen Jack in what feels like months. The evolution of Old Soul has been quite amusing to witness from the inside. It's easy to love and it's easy to stay, even if I know it's not that great for me, I keep coming back each morning for more.
I was sitting on my front porch watching folks parade down 17th street, waiting for Iven, when I happened to look up and see Meredith heading home with a pair of grocery bags from Gross Out. We hug and catch up. She tells me about the bee she stepped on in Capitol Park. I ask her about Peru and she's still planning on going. We part ways and I realize Iven's not going to be at my place for another half-hour, so I go back inside and pack up my backpack for the river.
Drew said Kasha asked him out and he turned her down because he's still with Amber, which was the right thing to do, of course, but you can tell he wishes he hadn't. He's going back to Sac State this semester, too.
Iven still really wants to get an apartment. Two bedroom, preferably, but my only requirement is that I save money on rent (including utilities), so we need to find something cheap. Part of me wants to look closer to Sac State. Part of me would miss Midtown too much. A lot of me will miss my window overlooking 17th and the bonfire pit that has made this such an awesome summer.
John and Amy arrive and I rush over to Gross Out to buy beer, ice and a cooler. This and our backpacks go into the trunk of John's car, which carries the four of us over to Paradise Beach. Last time I was here (with Jenny, Nick, Ashley and Erin) we found this awesome hand-shaped tree on the shore that we could sit in the palm of. On my second visit, the tree was still there but the river had dried significantly so the tree looked like it sprouted miraculously out of the desert. So instead we headed further downstream to the hillside where others were congregating in the spotty shade and we set up camp at the top of the hill, looking down at the skin-boarders riding the shoreline, the girls flirting with the guys tossing the football, the families letting their kids splash in the shallow water and all the other folks drinking beer and getting high on this perfectly sunny Tuesday afternoon. We hang out for a while and drink and Iven shotguns a whole tall can of Pabst and we comment on the crowd and talk about butterflies, beer pong and honey badgers that don't give a shit and we laugh at the old hip-hop being played from someone's stereo ('cause the boys in the hood are always hard, come talkin' that trash and we'll pull your card). Eventually we have to go into the water, so we ford the river and investigate the opposite shore, walking over submerged vegetation that makes me feel like I'm stomping down a forest. It's crystal-clear water on the other side, colder than Satan's nipples, speckled with so much gold it feels like a crime not to be collecting it somehow. We skip rocks and fight against the current and then float back to our spot and return to the hill to dry. About an hour later, we head out.
At deVere's afterward with Iven, we get dinner and a little drunker and I spill my guts about Jenny leaving and how I can't quite yet wrap my head around the idea. Barbara and Howard walk by outside and wave and they're with a guy who turns out to be Jake and Maggie Gyllenhaal's uncle. Somehow we get back to my house and have an impromptu bonfire in the backyard with roasted marshmallows. I call Jenny back. Then I set up Iven on the bed and I crash on the floor of my room as we watch Planet Earth and get attacked by mosquitoes all night because he leaves the window open.
I'm one month away from my one year anniversary of moving to Midtown.
Crazy to know that I'll be here for another 12 months, barring any spontaneous urge to flee. Crazy to see myself creating a family, watching it grow and change, knowing how quickly things have gotten to this point and how much potential there is for more. Crazy, this thing called life!
- Left to Fry
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