gauley 2004: part two
Flash forward to Saturday morning. Jody and I rested, languorous, in room that morning. The specific gravity of the mattress was too much for us.
The faint call of tiny boxes of cereal eventually met my ears, though. They reminded me of visits to my cousins' house growing up. For some reason, we always got those packages of miniature cereals. I guess it was an effort to keep the peace -- insurance against breakfast cereal jihad.
Just the thought of those tiny packages of whole grain and sugar goodness, and I was up and at 'em.
Jody, whose official nickname was "Jolene," reminded me of my first boyfriend, Joel. It was his doleful eyes, pronounced forehead and lack of confidence. Over Cheerios, Honey Grahams and Count Chocula, we discussed our prospects.
It was foggy and foreboding. The puddles outside rippled with raindrops. Phil confidently pronounced that it would "burn off." But how could it burn off when there was absolutely no sun? I was pessimistic as I sipped my cafeteria machine apple juice from concentrate.
Somehow, though, it did burn off. And we got a beautiful violet sky above us... the kind of sky that gives you pause. The kind of sky that reminds us of heaven, Technicolor movies and better places beyond what might be expected.
It was the kind of weather you only get from severe weather -- from a hurricane, to be precise. And this was the tail end of just such a storm.
Like a teenage girl at a sleepover, the sky was trying on a different color. "Oh, that color looks simply divine," said the earth to the sky. And sky moved this way and that in the mirror and agreed whole-heartedly.
The faint call of tiny boxes of cereal eventually met my ears, though. They reminded me of visits to my cousins' house growing up. For some reason, we always got those packages of miniature cereals. I guess it was an effort to keep the peace -- insurance against breakfast cereal jihad.
Just the thought of those tiny packages of whole grain and sugar goodness, and I was up and at 'em.
Jody, whose official nickname was "Jolene," reminded me of my first boyfriend, Joel. It was his doleful eyes, pronounced forehead and lack of confidence. Over Cheerios, Honey Grahams and Count Chocula, we discussed our prospects.
It was foggy and foreboding. The puddles outside rippled with raindrops. Phil confidently pronounced that it would "burn off." But how could it burn off when there was absolutely no sun? I was pessimistic as I sipped my cafeteria machine apple juice from concentrate.
Somehow, though, it did burn off. And we got a beautiful violet sky above us... the kind of sky that gives you pause. The kind of sky that reminds us of heaven, Technicolor movies and better places beyond what might be expected.
It was the kind of weather you only get from severe weather -- from a hurricane, to be precise. And this was the tail end of just such a storm.
Like a teenage girl at a sleepover, the sky was trying on a different color. "Oh, that color looks simply divine," said the earth to the sky. And sky moved this way and that in the mirror and agreed whole-heartedly.
posted by jblend at
Sunday, September 26, 2004
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