Somewhere Over Kansas

I am living a year of irresponsibility in the Mr. Chair-like spirit. I saved up some money, quit my job and took to the road, relying on the kindness of others for room and sometimes board, when it’s on the table. My goal is to get a fledgling writing career onto its feet then into the air. So far I just feel guilty most of the time, and somewhat directionless. It’s only been two weeks though. I keep telling myself that I just need to let my body and mind adjust to this strange new lifestyle without places to be, times to be there and responsibilities in general, but I want to be adjusted now. I was cruising along in fifth gear, moving and shaking, albeit in a job I despised and slammed it into first and my transmission got left somewhere over Kansas.

My first stop is Glendale, Arizona with my father and stepmother. If you’ve never been to Glendale you aren’t missing much assuming, of course, that you’ve encountered strip malls full of restaurant and retail chains, golf shirts and white pickup trucks. So far, the things I miss most about Chicago, are the independent, family owned restaurants and shops and the CTA. But I don’t miss the weather. In Glendale I went swimming, out of doors, in October, and no, the pool was not heated. In Chicago, I’d be on clothing layer three by now.

The other thing that makes this area somewhat redeeming is the wash that runs through the town. There’s a bike trail that runs along it for miles and miles and I, thankfully, have a very nice bike at my disposal. A wash, in case you didn’t know, is a dry riverbed and a desert’s natural storm drain. It is lush (for a desert) and rich with wildlife (considering its in the middle of a metropolis). So far I have seen three species of lizard, a roadrunner, quail, and a jackrabbit. Catfish loaned me Desert Solitaire for inspirado, surprised I hadn’t already read it already. So far, so good. I have missed the desert. And Chili’s baby-back ribs.