May You Live in Interesting Times

A sampling of what's been on my mind over the last few days:

*** Do you know about rug hooking? I saw a listing in a newsletter for freelance writers for a magazine dedicated to rug hooking, presumably written by and for rug hooking enthusiasts, which is what made me think of it. We had a rug-hooked Christmas pillow we made. It had Santa’s smiling face on it. I think we also had a wall hanging with a coat of arms, “DePriest” written on it that we never finished. So you remember rug hooking? Why was this a good idea? I didn’t know people still did these, the little pieces of yarn you hooked through the square and then pulled it with the rug hook tool thingey. How monotonous and repetitious. I enjoyed only the part where you were through.

*** I live in Mississippi, at about the geographic center of the state, not close to the Gulf Coast, in other words. I’m something like five hours from the coast. I followed the news and weather reports for the last week. On the anniversary last Friday, I thought about Katrina and that fiasco. Some of the images and stories haunt me still. I wasn’t unaware of Gustav and its possible repercussions, is what I’m saying.

But. Sunday afternoon The Fiancé and I went to pick up some lunch. Before I tell you what we ate, let me say this: Saturday evening we suffered a disappointing defeat at the hands of a team that our team should have beat. Did beat, in fact, if you look at the stats. All those besides interceptions, fumbles, turnovers and, uh, the SCORE. We needed some good old fashioned greasy comfort food. We ordered cheeseburgers from the Huddle House and then went to the Sonic for dill pickles, tater tots, and Cokes because they have the best Cokes in the whole wide world. These two joints, and a few other fast food places, are located where Interstate 55 crosses Highway 82. Interstate 55 runs the length of the state north and south. When we got on the highway, I couldn’t get over all the cars, the traffic. There is a motel, an old school one, like a motor court across from the Huddle House. I don’t know that, honestly, I’ve ever seen any cars there. Its parking lot was full. We barely found a parking spot at the Huddle House. It’s next to an Exxon gas station, where cars with Louisiana tags filled the place. I watched a mother and a young daughter, about three years old, both in sundresses, hold hands and walk across the parking lot.

I wondered how people do this, how they cope. How they travel with over excited and upset children. The toll the tension, the unexpected expense, must take. How they explain why they left, why their car is loaded down, why they’re driving so far, why the traffic is so awful, why it’s taking so long. How do they tell their children they may not have a home when they get back, that they don’t know where they’re even traveling to – hopefully some place safe? I can’t wrap my mind around it. The Fiancé picked up our lunch and got in the truck. He shut the door and shook his head. “Every seat in there is taken. Everyone looks shell-shocked.”

Sad and depressed now? Let’s talk about something else.

*** Do you know what I just realized? With the tendonitis and all, I have a sports-related injury. I’ve never had one of those. I can’t help it; I think it’s a bit cool; an injury, and it’s sports-related. How much fun will it be to be around me for the next 8 days? When I can talk about my injury and its sports-relatedness?