Flummoxed

As a southern boy it is my duty to be a patron of Sonic. For the most part I am more than willing to fulfill this sweet tea heritage. It is widely known that Sonic has the best ice, their sweet tea (when on point) is the best around. They have a way of mixing the carbonation and syrup that beats the best soda jerk (or would, if I knew where to find a soda jerk). Sonic is convenient and reasonably priced for the quality of product.

When I go to Sonic I have a typical habit of pulling around to the stations opposite of the entrance. There are a few legitimate reasons for this but at this point it is primarily habit.

The reason I bring up America's Drive-In is this: today I went for lunch, something quick and easy was all I was looking for. As my companion and I rounded the corner to park on my prefered side, what did we encounter but a drive through.

Why on Earth would Sonic need a drive through? Essentially, Sonic is one large drive through. Is there a large enough market of people who do not like putting their car in reverse to constitute removing all the stations from an entire side of the establishment for the creation of a menu-board an a automatic sliding window? Is it really faster or more convenient?

I am considering stationing myself in the parking lot for the next few days questioning the drive through users about their choice. I will report my findings.

This room is not my own

I am sitting on a full bed with sheets of sea-foam green. A massive headboard carved out of a light wood, but stained to a much darker color, supports my head. A matching footboard runs along the base of the mattress - preventing my feet from hanging over the edge at the bottom (which I do not like them to do anyway, for fear of monsters under the bed).

On the north wall - the four seasons are displayed on Chinese wall hangings. Long and skinny pieces of parchment painted by the skilled hands of an blind, 89 year-old Chinese woman in the Hunan Provence who has been making similar paintings since she could hold a brush. The scene has changed in real life - but what her eyes see, and what her hand creates, is the village of her childhood.

Against the opposite wall sits a vanity - complete with a round mirror. The piece matches the solid wood of the bed. My grandmother sat here, with her wedding picture tucked into the frame of the mirror, and applied her lipstick before waking up my aunts and uncles for church every Sunday morning.

The room is a pail blue, not a far cry from the color of the bed sheets. The selection was made by the occupant of this house previous to my arrival, even prior to the arrival of the current owner.

The red plastic tubs stuffed with my summer clothes bring me comfort. My jeans thrown in the corner, waiting for a more permanent placement, actually elicit a smile.

With my life as transient as it is right now - it's nice to remember that home is simple where you do your laundry.

Lazy days

I do not have a job. I go to bed late, I wake up late. I watch Oprah and Yes Dear (the ultimate in afternoon syndication). My sweats are wearing thin, my hair is turning a different color. I can name that commercial in 2 notes.

I am on the final stretch of my current CBL stint. One week from today I will pack and go. Is this a new chapter? Is it a new volume?

I'm fairly confident this is still the prologue.