Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Old Haunts

I run away.  I escape.  I tell myself that I am an adventuress, full of ambitious activity.  I am.  I am.  I am.  Saying it makes it real.

The car is a blue convertible.  I drive her with the top down as often as possible.  Sixty degree weather, with the heat cranked up?  No problem.  She still has a bunch of flash, but is steady, sturdy, and reliable.

It's time to spice life up.  Shake life up; shutter the windows of my little house and have an adventure, or at the very least, several small ones.  Thus, the kegels and keg stands from last night.  The leftover effects from the evening prior are evident from my rear-view mirror.  After landing in Bloomington (my Plymouth Rock), and checking into the little apartment I managed to rent for the evening, I venture out to rediscover my hazy years.  The terrain is much the same.  A store has changed on 10th Avenue.  A bar has closed and re-branded itself for the next generation of drinkers.  A few condo buildings have popped up and the number of Starbucks has increased.  But much of what was there before remains. The Greek-lined streets look familiar to me, as do the limestone buildings that I spent as little possible time in. Old haunts.  I smile crookedly and wave at them as I walk by.

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