Sunday

May 6, 2001

modern house and stone wall

corner of Cliff and Virginia

shop window (part of the collection from last weekend's walks)

We've planned a dog walk, but it is drizzling. I stand in front of the house discussing this with SuRu on the phone. Back in the house, I listen to the weather channel. ("They are giving the conditions in Salt Lake City," I say.) We decide to try it in a bit anyway.

SuRu has picked an untouched neighborhood. Untouched by the eXtreme team anyway. And that's what counts. We turn on Barton Blvd., climb the hill in the blue mini-SUV that I call 'the truck', take a jag to the right and park. We backtrack to look at a modern house and walk through an alley beside it. At one stage I mention that we are at the corner of Cliff and Virginia. We see a purple martin sanctuary on Virginia, I think. SuRu thinks I'm talking about some people named Cliff and Virginia who have a sign up in their yard identifying themselves. I think that I could take a picture of street signs with the digital to record where we've been.

Later, we find ourselves a little lost. Darn...should have taken those photos. It's cheating to bring a map. Normally, this is no big deal but we are, we think, on Robert E. Lee and if we go down we'll have to come back up Barton Blvd. which is one way and kind of scary. Oh, steep, too. We decide to backtrack the way we came. For fun, we repeat the comments we made about homes and gardens as best we remember them. A woman provides a landmark standing in her carport, talking on the portable phone. SuRu remembers dogs jumping against a fence, a remember some driftwood. I think we were close to the truck and extended our walk by the backtracking. But we needed the exercise. Looking at the map, some backtracking was necessary but there was a more direct route. I've offered to take a map on these excursions but SuRu says it's cheating. I've got to admit it adds to the adventure.

It's a good walk and, back in the car, Zoey plops down and sleeps and Chalow hangs her head in front of the AC vent.

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The rest of my day is spent doing what I please. I go with FFP to shop for food and Vitamin C (supposedly good for poison ivy). I made Mother's Day cards for Mom, my sister and my niece. FFP made a chicken with a yogurt, orange and Dijon sauce. We eat it with some canned asparagus. We do a little laundry. The pleasant domestic things.

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In the evening I attend a funeral. The deceased is someone I worked with. I have met his wife a couple of times, remember when his kids were born. I go to let them know that people remember him. He was only 45. He had a hard-fought battle with cancer.

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Funerals always make us think of our own. Who would show up, what would those close to us plan to commemorate our passing? I stand in front of the funeral home with people I've known because of work, some for twelve years. Truthfully, one reason I came was to see them.

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At home, I waste some time with the papers and the TV. I know I should do something constructive. But I don't. I let these minutes slip away to a few newspaper articles and a few crosswords. I doze. I'm awakened by a pop when the electricity goes off. I stumble into my computer room because I remember where my flashlight is there. When I get it, I go in search of another. At the moment I find it, the lights come back on. Everything we are depends on electricity, it seems. It always scares me to face that when the lights are out. We are lost without juice. We are lost between birth and death somewhere, powered by electricity.

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